Full Summary (It gets cut off in the description/rating area): Almost a year after they parted, Lyra and Will are struggling to go on with their lives when Lyra discovers a mysterious clock that creates "blends" between worlds. After so long apart, can they reunite to be what they once were to save their Republics of Heaven and Earth and stop Dust from disappearing forever?
(Ooh, cliffhanger... summary might change, depending on how the story turns.)
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters like Lyra, Will, Dame Hannah, Mary Malone, Mrs. Parry... those are all Phillip Pullman's creations. All I can say is... Thank you, Mr. Pullman! You're the real smartypants, not me.
Author's Note: I'm afraid chapters 1 and 2 may seem like something anyone else would write (though that may be just my opinion, probably some of you will agree) and I sincerely apologize- I am just trying to set the stage. Please keep reading-- Things start to get interesting and twisty in chapter three and four and will only get more so with the updates!
Chapter One: The Dream
If she were the sort of girl who cried often, Lyra might have done so. As it was, she let out a small groan and rubbed her eyes. They were puffy and bloodshot from lack of sleep and from constantly staring at her alethiometer before referring to its corresponding book of meanings. She was sick of trying to puzzle the thing out. It had come so easily to her once. Why wouldn't it still?
Pantalaimon, her dæmon, flowed onto her lap and began to nuzzle her. "It en't working, Pan," Lyra murmured softly. Her eyes reflected a familiar longing. "If only Will were here…"
Pantalaimon shot her a warning glance. Lyra's words trailed off into nothingness: they both knew what she meant. Lyra shook her head fiercely, trying to clear her thoughts. She didn't want to think of Will, not now.
It had been almost a year since she had watched his fingers close the window between her Oxford and his, sealing the barrier between the two worlds forever. Yet not a day passed that she didn't think of him. Not a day when she didn't talk to him in her head, or think of the way he had braved everything, of the way he had kissed her, of the way he had looked at her…
A hand landed on her shoulder, startling Lyra out of her reverie. The last thing you need is to be seen as a weepy romantic, she scolded herself silently. She glanced up and recognized the owner of the hand: Dame Hannah, Lyra's alethiometer teacher and friend.
"Look at you, child," Dame Hannah spoke softly. "You need rest. Go, now."
Lyra opened her mouth to protest, as was her nature, but found her self ushered along towards the rooms she shared with five other girls before she could get a word in. Realizing that Dame Hannah was right after all, she grudgingly flopped onto her neatly-made bed and rapidly fell into troubled sleep.
She crept along the edge of an abyss, a silent procession of ghosts behind her, Will at her side. They trudged onward, speaking none, faces grim. Lyra's thoughts began to wander. She thought of falling, and the thought induced a strange kind of vertigo in her. She vaguely remembered a time back in Jordan with Roger when she had defied her fear and walked along Jordan's roof, just to frighten him. With that thought came another: She was Roger's Lyra once again, just has she had been for so many years of her life; she didn't need to creep along the wall like an insect.
But all of a sudden she lost her footing and began to slip. At first it was simply comical, then merely annoying. Then the real terror set in: she was falling. Falling into that dreadful abyss, slipping away from everything.
Nothing could save her. The few ghosts who tried to do so only found themselves hurtling through her like the shimmering apparitions they were. The harpies, the only ones who could perhaps rescue her, only laughed. She saw Will standing near the edge, eyes wide with terror, powerless to do anything but watch as she was dragged away. She called his name over and over again, little by little losing all hope. He shrank until suddenly she couldn't see him at all, only the darkness enveloping her like a glove. With one last, desperate effort, she cried "Will!"-- and woke with a start.
Lyra sat up in bed, her heart pounding. Sweat dripped down her forehead. It was still dark out, and the rest of the girls were fast asleep. Lyra's sheets were a tangled mess.
She shivered. She'd had the dream so many times before. It was always the same: the slipping; the terror settling in; Will, powerless, shrinking and shrinking; the blackness enfolding and covering and smothering her.
In real life, the harpy Lyra had named Gracious Wings had swooped down and rescued her. She had lived to set the ghosts free from the world they were imprisoned in. She and Will had ensured that no soul would ever again have to endure the monotonous eternity of the world of the dead.
But the abyss still haunted her. The mere thought of being shrouded by that darkness made her shudder. At first Lyra thought that she was just afraid of it still, but someplace under that something whispered that her life was like an abyss. She felt like she was falling and falling, growing ever more remote from the one person she thought could save her, and now she was in so deep that there was no way out.
Please read on! (Well, and reviewing would be nice, too...)