Serafina arrived at the dock of the Adamant Tower, her feet making soft, echoing taps on the cold metal as she stepped. The journey to the tower had been treacherous, as if the Abyss itself was trying to pull her down. But she had made it, driven by a determination to fulfill her mission and bring Marisa back.
The tower loomed above her, an imposing structure of gleaming metal, its surface reflecting the dim light of the distant sky. Serafina felt a shiver run down her spine as she approached the entrance, the air around her thick with an unnatural stillness. With Kasia back by her side, she steeled herself and entered the tower.
Inside, the atmosphere was even more oppressive. The walls, ceilings, and floors were all constructed from the same cold, unyielding metal, giving the space a sterile, almost otherworldly feel. Every sound, her footsteps, the faint rustling of Kasia's wings, seemed amplified, reverberating through the narrow corridors.
Serafina moved with purpose, following the twisting hallways until she reached the heart of the tower: the lab where Asriel had built the device to destroy the angel. The room was vast, dominated by the remnants of the machine that had once held the power to alter the very fabric of the universe. Now, after Mary's intervention, the device had been transformed, no longer a weapon but a beacon of hope.
In the center of the lab stood a metal platform, stark and cold, where Marisa's body had been placed. The platform was surrounded by the intricate machinery of Asriel's device, now dormant but still humming with latent energy. The air was charged with a faint, almost imperceptible current, a reminder of the immense forces that had been at play here.
Serafina paused for a moment at the edge of the platform, her gaze fixed on Marisa's still form. The weight of what she was about to do settled heavily on her shoulders, but she knew there was no turning back. With Kasia offering silent support, Serafina ascended the platform, the cool metal sending a shock through her bare feet as she stepped onto it.
As she stood over Marisa, the full gravity of the situation washed over her. This was no longer just about Marisa… it was about the fate of the world, the future of Lyra and her child, and the balance of Dust itself. Serafina closed her eyes for a moment, centering herself, then began the rituals that would determine everything.
Serafina stood in the dimly lit chamber of the Adamant Tower, her heart pounding with a mixture of hope and trepidation. Beside her, Kasia watched with a gaze full of concern and encouragement.
Marisa lay motionless on a cold metal platform, her once-vibrant presence now a mere shadow of what it had been. The oppressive darkness of the Abyss seemed to cling to her, a stark contrast to the sharp, metallic surfaces of the chamber. Serafina took a deep breath, steeling herself for the rituals that would either bring Marisa back to life or seal her fate.
With a steady hand, Serafina reached for the Earth she had collected from the sacred grove. She carefully placed a handful of it on Marisa's womb, the gesture both tender and reverent. The soil seemed to resonate with a quiet energy, as if acknowledging the gravity of the moment.
Next, Serafina took a small vial of clear water and poured it gently over Marisa's forehead. The water trickled down her face, glistening as it caught the faint light reflecting off the metal walls. It was a symbol of purification and renewal, meant to cleanse and awaken Marisa's spirit.
The most delicate part of the ritual followed. Serafina took a deep breath, drawing on every ounce of her inner strength. With a precise and careful motion, she extracted a piece of the golden cloud pine from her own body. The cloud pine, now glowing with a radiant golden hue, shimmered with an otherworldly light. Serafina held it above Marisa's heart, letting it hover there for a moment before placing it gently on her chest.
As the golden cloud pine made contact with Marisa's heart, it began to seep into her, infusing her with a warmth and energy that had long been dormant. The golden light spread through Marisa's form, igniting the suppressed power within her. Yet, even as the transformation took place, Marisa remained unmoving, her breathing steady but unchanging.
Serafina watched with bated breath, knowing that the final piece of the ritual was yet to come. The golden monkey, Atlas-Callisto, approached Marisa's side. His reanimation had been gradual, the process of returning him to life a delicate balance of magic and will. Now, as he stood over Marisa, his instincts guided him. He gently pressed his lips to Marisa's cheek, a soft and tender kiss.
In that moment, a spark of life flickered within Marisa. Her body, still in recovery, began to show subtle signs of awakening. Through her eyes remained closed, the kiss from Atlas was the final catalyst needed to stir her from her deep slumber.
Serafina exhaled slowly, her heart both hopeful and weary. The rituals had been completed, and now all that remained was to wait. She stood by Marisa's side, her resolve unwavering. The fate of their world, the future of Lyra and her child, rested on the outcome of this crucial moment.
"She should have woken by now. Mary, it's been three days." Serafina's voice trembled, her worry evident as she looked at Mary.
Mary placed a reassuring hand on Serafina's right shoulder. "Maybe she just needs more time. We've done everything right. We both double-checked."
"Yes, you're right," Serafina replied, placing her left hand over Mary's right. The hour was late, and with their respective dæmons by their sides, they both retreated to try and get some sleep.
Marisa, left alone in Asriel's lab with her dæmon sleeping at her feet, heard everything. Each time Mary or Serafina came in to check on her, she tried to scream, "I'm here, I'm here!" But no words came out, no sound was made.
As Marisa realized she was no longer in the Abyss, she knew she needed to stay calm. Who knew what her body had been through or how long she had been falling? By her guess, it could have been a year or more. She forced herself to focus, pushing her mind back to another time...
Marisa stood on the edge of the dance floor, the weight of the evening's formalities pressing on her shoulders like the tight fabric of her gown. The grand chandeliers cast a warm glow over the gathering, yet all she could feel was the chill of the night air seeping through the windows. Her gaze drifted to Asriel, standing near the bar with a glass in hand, his eyes seemingly lost in thought yet always alert. She could feel the magnetic pull between them, a force she was powerless to resist.
As the orchestra began to play a soft, haunting melody, she sensed his approach before she saw him. Asriel's presence was unmistakable, commanding, and when he stood before her, she could barely catch her breath.
"Mrs. Coulter," he said, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down her spine. "May I have this dance?"
She hesitated, a fleeting glance towards Edward, who was engrossed in conversation and oblivious to the world around him. She knew what was at stake, but the lure of the moment was too powerful to ignore. Marisa nodded, allowing Asriel to take her hand and lead her onto the dance floor.
The music enveloped them, and as Asriel's arm encircled her waist, she felt a warmth that contrasted sharply with the cold exterior she always maintained. Their movements were fluid, perfectly in sync, as if they had been dancing together for years. Marisa found herself lost in the rhythm, the world around them fading into nothingness.
For a brief moment, when their eyes met, she let her guard down. In Asriel's gaze, she saw something raw and unspoken, a reflection of the desire and yearning she herself felt but dared not voice. It was a dangerous connection, one that could unravel everything if allowed to flourish, yet in that moment, it felt like the most natural thing in the world.
As the music went on, Marisa felt the song's lyrics echoing the unspoken words between them. It was an invitation to a forbidden world, a challenge she wasn't sure she was ready to accept. But as the final notes of the melody played out, the spell was broken.
Asriel released her, the warmth of his hand lingering just a moment too long on hers. The dance was over, but the emotions it had stirred within her were not so easily dismissed.
"Thank you for the dance, Lord Asriel," she whispered.
The chill of the Adamant Tower's lab was palpable, but Marisa was lost in the haze of her memories. Now she was back in the Aethalometer room, at the Magisterium. A dimly lit chamber of mystery, loomed in her mind's eye. She recalled the moment with vivid clarity. She had burst into the room, her heart racing, to find Fra Pavel carefully lighting a candle. His startled expression had only deepened her panic.
"Tell me if my daughter survived!" she had demanded, pointing frantically at the Aethalometer.
Fra Pavel, taken aback by her intensity, as he had read the symbols he stammered, "She's… she's." The words hung in the air as Marisa's gaze fixed on the device.
"What does it say?" she pressed urgently.
Fra Pavel's face grew grim as he read the symbols, his voice barely above a whisper "In Darkness."
The words hit Marisa like a physical blow. She crumbled to the floor, her body wracked with tearless sobs. The reality of Lyra's death was a crushing weight, a devastating confirmation of her worst fears. Despite all her efforts to protect her daughter, it had been in vain. It wasn't until Fra Pavel, after seeing her collapse, knelt beside her and enfolded her in his small frame that she began to cry. Tears streamed down her face, flowing like a river, as the enormity of her loss consumed her.
As the memories keep overwhelming Marisa she found herself in the middle of many terrible ones, she now found herself walking down the steps into the workshop, where Asriel was working. She remembers this, the day her heart shattered.
Her face is a mask of anguish and fury, and blank all at once. "She's dead, Asriel," Marisa said, her voice trembling with the weight of her grief. "Lyra... is dead."
Asriel's reaction was a mere murmur of acknowledgement. "Hmm."
Marisa's anger flared. "Would you like me to tell you how your daughter died? Or would you prefer to keep tinkering with your toys?"
Asriel's eyes remained fixed on his work. "If what you're saying is true, I am very sorry... but what I am doing here is of the utmost importance. It is going to change everything."
Marisa's voice rose in desperation. "How, Asriel? How? How will this change anything?"
"Can't hear it. Not now," Asriel replied, clearly overwhelmed.
Marisa's frustration boiled over. "You will hear this. The Magisterium created a bomb to target our child using her DNA. Last night, we attempted to disable it. Lord Roke died trying."
Asriel's gaze softened for a moment. "You mustn't blame yourself. You clearly—"
"Oh, believe me, I'm not blaming myself," Marisa interrupted sharply. "I know that technology. I designed it. I stopped it from detonating. But a bolt of light struck the intercision chamber and triggered the release... sending the bomb straight to Lyra."
Her voice dropped to a whisper, almost reverent with pain. "Angelic light."
Marisa's eyes blazed with accusation. "Metatron's answer to your war cry. If you hadn't baited him, Lyra would still be alive."
She stepped closer, her face inches from his. "Do you understand? You've taken my daughter from me."
Her words hung in the air, heavy with sorrow and rage. "And I will never forgive you."
As Marisa delved deeper into her memories, Atlas sensed the surge of her emotions. Observing the distress etched across her face, he felt her anguish anew. Beads of sweat began to form on Marisa's forehead, and Atlas's concern grew. Moving carefully, he climbed up the platform, now covered with a folded blanket, and positioned himself at Marisa's side. Gently, he dragged his paw up her left arm, trying to comfort her. Settling beside her head, Atlas pressed a tender kiss to her cheek, hoping to provide a small measure of solace amid the storm of her memories.
Suddenly, Marisa's eyes shot open, wide with terror, as the shadows of her memories seemed to pull her back to a place of fear and loss.
Atlas snuggled closer to Marisa, laying himself gently over her chest, right above her heart. He knew this familiar gesture would help ground her, a soothing practice they had shared through the years, growing up, as teens, and into adulthood. The last time they had shared this comfort was on the night Marisa had told Asriel to take their baby Lyra. That night had marked a turning point, deepening the complexity of their relationship and intertwining their fates in ways they could not have foreseen.
Marisa's awakening is not immediate or gentle. The first sensations were disjointed flashes of light, the distant murmur of voices, the soft touch of something familiar yet distant against her skin. She drifts in and out of consciousness, each time surfacing a little further from the darkness that has held her captive.
Her thoughts are muddled, a jumbled mess of memories, fears, and a persistent, gnawing sense of loss. The Abyss has left its mark on her, and even as she slowly begins to regain awareness, the weight of what she's endured presses down on her chest like a physical force. She remembers falling, the cold emptiness that had consumed her, and the sound of a voice, her daemon's voice, calling out to her, bringing her back.
But when she tries to move, her body betrays her. Every muscle feels heavy and unresponsive, as though she's been encased in lead. Her first attempts to sit up are met with searing pain, forcing her to collapse back onto the platform. Her mind, once sharp and calculating, now struggles to grasp even the simplest of thoughts.
After a night of real rest Marisa was more awake. Her frustration grew as days passed. The golden monkey, Atlas-Callisto, stayed close by her side, his presence a comfort but also a painful reminder of all she's lost. She finds herself clinging to him, drawing strength from his steady gaze and the warmth of his fur against her skin. The re-learning process was excruciatingly slow, each step a battle against the limitations of her weakened body, each word a struggle to form on her tongue.
As Mary gently guided her through this process, Marisa's mind continued to flicker between past and present. She remembers her days of power, the feel of command at her fingertips, and the cold ruthlessness that had defined her. But now, all of that seems distant, almost unreal. The woman she was feels like a stranger, someone she can barely recognize.
Amid her struggle, one thought keeps resurfacing, piercing through the haze of her recovery: Lyra. Her daughter, her fierce, independent daughter, who had been both her greatest love and her greatest regret. Marisa wonders where Lyra is, what she's doing, and whether she's safe. But she doesn't ask Serafina, partly because she's not yet able to, but also because some part of her fears the answer.
As Marisa fights to reclaim her strength, Serafina watches over her with a mixture of sympathy and determination. She knows that Marisa's recovery will be long and difficult, but she also knows that her own journey is far from over. The world outside the Adamant Tower is still in turmoil, and Lyra, too, needs her.
Serafina makes the decision to leave quietly, knowing that Marisa is in good hands with Mary. However, she deliberately avoids telling Marisa where she's going or who she's going to see. There's a part of her that wants to shield Marisa from further emotional strain. She knows how deeply Marisa cares for Lyra, and how fragile Marisa still is. But there's another reason, one that Serafina barely admits to herself: she's not entirely sure how Marisa would react if she knew the truth.
The secrecy weighs on Serafina, but she believes it's necessary. Marisa needs time to heal, both physically and emotionally, before she's ready to face the reality of her daughter's life. And Serafina, ever the protector, is determined to ensure that both Marisa and Lyra are safe before she reveals anything.
As Serafina prepares to leave, she reflects on the decision she's made. She knows that keeping this from Marisa could lead to tension between them later, but she's willing to accept that risk. Marisa has been through enough, and Serafina believes that protecting her from further pain is more important than complete honesty at this moment.
In her heart, Serafina feels a pang of guilt. Marisa has already lost so much, and now Serafina is taking away her chance to be part of Lyra's life, even if only for a short while. But she pushes those feelings aside, focusing instead on the greater good. She has a mission to complete, and that mission requires her to act with both compassion and pragmatism.
As she steps away from Marisa's side and prepares to leave the tower, Serafina vows to return as soon as she can. She hopes that by the time she does, Marisa will be stronger, ready to face whatever lies ahead. And maybe, just maybe, she'll be able to forgive Serafina for the secrets she's kept.
The days had passed in a blur, each one blending into the next as Marisa painstakingly regained the use of her body. The oppressive darkness of the Abyss still lingered at the edges of her mind, but the warmth of the Adamant Tower and the steady presence of Atlas kept it at bay.
Marisa had fought for every inch of progress, and it was hard-won. Her legs, once so strong and sure, now trembled with even the slightest movement. Walking was a challenge, one that required Mary's steady hand or the support of a cane. Speaking was no easier, words came slowly, each one feeling as though it had to be dragged from the depths of her mind. But she was determined, driven by a fierce will that had never left her, even in her weakest moments.
Today, as she rested in one of the tower's small but comfortable rooms, Marisa felt a strange mix of frustration and hope. Her body was slowly healing, but the memories of what had happened, of what she had lost were still raw. She often found herself staring out the window, wondering where Serafina had gone, and what had become of Lyra.
Atlas was always close by, watching her with those familiar golden eyes. He had been her constant companion since she woke, and though his presence was comforting, it was also a reminder of the connection they had once shared, one that now felt irrevocably changed.
As she rested, Atlas climbed onto the bed beside her, his fur gleaming in the soft light. Marisa smiled faintly, reaching out to touch his paw. She was still getting used to the sight of him, restored and whole, after the terror of losing him in the Abyss.
But then, something different happened, something that caught Marisa entirely off guard.
"Risa," Atlas said, his voice a soft, gentle whisper, yet full of emotion. "I missed you."
Marisa's hand froze mid-motion, her breath catching in her throat. She stared at him, wide-eyed and speechless. For a long moment, she wondered if she had imagined it, if her mind, still recovering, was playing tricks on her.
But Atlas's eyes held hers, filled with a depth of feeling that was unmistakable. He had spoken. Truly spoken. And the sound of his voice, so familiar yet so strange, sent a shiver down her spine.
"Serafina named me for you. Atlas-Callisto, the names mean moon, I think I like just Atlas though."
"Atlas…" she finally managed to say, her voice trembling with shock and something else, something like wonder.
"Yes," Atlas continued, his gaze unwavering.
Marisa swallowed hard, the weight of his words sinking in. "Atlas," she repeated, the name feeling foreign yet fitting on her tongue. "You can… you can speak."
Atlas nodded, his golden eyes never leaving hers. "I can. Thanks to Serafina and Mary. They brought me back, and now I can speak to you, Risa."
The emotions that swelled within Marisa were overwhelming, relief, disbelief, and an intense, aching joy. She had never heard him speak before, had never imagined he could. The only thing he had ever been able to say was 'Risa'. But now, hearing his voice, she felt a sense of connection that went beyond anything she had ever known. It was as if the bond they had always shared had deepened, becoming something new and precious.
Tears welled up in Marisa's eyes, but she didn't let them fall. She reached out, pulling Atlas into her arms, holding him close as she whispered, "I missed you too."
For a long time, they stayed like that, Marisa clinging to him as if he were the only thing keeping her grounded. And in a way, he was. Atlas was her lifeline, the one constant in a world that had been turned upside down. And now, with his voice in her ears, she felt a glimmer of hope—a belief that perhaps, just perhaps, she could find her way back to the woman she once was.
But as the shock began to fade, Marisa's thoughts turned to Serafina. The witch had brought Atlas back to her, had given him a name, and in doing so, had given Marisa a gift she hadn't known she needed. But Serafina had also left, without a word of explanation. And that, Marisa realized, was something she couldn't ignore.
She pulled back slightly, looking into Atlas's eyes. "Where did Serafina go?" she asked, her voice steady despite the turmoil in her heart.
Atlas hesitated, his eyes flickering with uncertainty. "I… I don't know, Risa. She didn't say. But I think… I think she had something important to do."
Marisa nodded slowly, her mind racing. She would have to find out where Serafina had gone, and why she had kept it a secret. But for now, all she could do was hold on to the moment, and the unexpected gift that had been given to her.
Marisa was still holding Atlas close when the door creaked open, and Mary entered the room carrying a tray with lunch. The familiar scent of fresh bread and tea wafted through the air, a comforting reminder of simpler times.
"Hey there," Mary greeted her with a warm smile, setting the tray down on the small table beside the bed. "Let's eat. We need to keep your strength up. Today, let's see how you walk alone."
Marisa's heart quickened at Mary's words. The thought of walking alone, of taking those steps without aid, filled her with a mix of fear and longing. She wanted nothing more than to walk, not just across the room, but to her daughter, to her Lyra. The mere thought of seeing Lyra again, of holding her child in her arms, was enough to make her chest ache.
But there was so much she didn't know, so many questions that gnawed at her. And now, with Atlas by her side and Mary encouraging her every step, she couldn't hold them back any longer.
"What do you know of Lyra?" Marisa asked, her voice steady but laced with an undercurrent of desperation. She needed to know—needed to hear anything that could bring her closer to her daughter.
Mary hesitated, her kind eyes flickering with something Marisa couldn't quite place—concern, perhaps, or maybe a touch of sadness. "Let's wait until Serafina returns," Mary finally said, her tone gentle but firm. "She'll explain everything, but Lyra is safe. She's a scholar now. That's all I can say for the moment."
Marisa's heart clenched at the mention of Lyra being a scholar. It was something she had always hoped for, always wanted for her daughter. To see her grow into a strong, intelligent woman, free from the dangers and darkness that had plagued their lives. But the uncertainty, the not knowing when or how she would see her child again, was unbearable.
"And you will see her soon," Mary added, her voice full of quiet assurance. She sat down beside Marisa, placing the plate with a sandwich and a cup of tea into her hands. "But first, we need to focus on getting you stronger. One step at a time."
Marisa took the sandwich, though her appetite was minimal. The worry gnawing at her insides made it difficult to think of food, but she knew Mary was right. She had to regain her strength, had to be ready when the time came to see Lyra again.
"Thank you," Marisa murmured, her gaze dropping to the plate in her lap. She took a small bite of the sandwich, the simple act of eating grounding her somewhat, pulling her out of the swirl of emotions that threatened to overwhelm her.
Mary sipped her tea, watching Marisa with quiet encouragement. "You're making progress, Marisa. It may not feel like it, but you are. And with Atlas here, I think you'll find that things will get a little easier."
Marisa glanced at Atlas, who was perched on the edge of the bed, his golden eyes watching her with an intensity that was both comforting and unnerving. He had been her anchor, her silent guardian, and now, with the ability to speak, he felt more like a partner in her recovery.
"I hope so," Marisa said softly, taking another small bite of her sandwich. "I want to be strong enough… strong enough to walk to Lyra, to be the mother she deserves."
"You will be," Mary said with conviction, reaching out to place a hand on Marisa's arm. "We'll make sure of it. But for now, let's focus on today. Let's focus on getting you walking, even if it's just a few steps."
Marisa nodded, her resolve hardening. She would do whatever it took, endure any pain, any frustration; to be strong enough for her daughter. The journey ahead was daunting, but with Mary's guidance and Atlas's companionship, she knew she could face it.
As they ate together in comfortable silence, Marisa allowed herself a moment of hope. She imagined the day when she would finally walk into the room where Lyra waited, her heart full of love and pride. And with that vision in mind, she knew she had the strength to keep going.
One step at a time.
—
We are officially focused on Marisa! I was going to split this chapter, but then I had ideas and figured out where to put things, and then everything fit so well. That's how it went from 2,000 words to 4,500 words. I'm rambling… Okay, enjoy!
Happy reading!