ivebeenreadingandwriting

[ivebeenreadingandwriting]

Ahtohallan - prologue

Svalbard was dying.

It was certainly not something that could be dealt with so easily, especially when your home is disintegrating before your eyes and you can do nothing but watch it disappear ... sink into the deep and cold blue of the cold sea from which the island had always protected them to disappear into the depths of the abyss and be forgotten by anyone and seen as just a legend by anyone who sailed in those waters by now constantly stormy. Anxiety, a human feeling that sounded unfamiliar in his large white chest, consumed him from within with every step, every little breath, every time his dark eyes turned away to see a sign of rebirth, a sign that it wasn't the strong wind that had blown away the snow and the anomalous heat that had melted the rest and now ruffled his fur.

The king of the Panserbjørn, their proud king, had ventured further, leaving his trusty right arm in charge for a while ... he knew where he was going, but had turned several times to make sure he wasn't being followed. The place he was going was for the few, and only for the strong of heart. On several occasions Iorek Byrnison had shown that he was brave, sometimes more than he should and in his youth in a very reckless way that had calmed down only by entering adulthood. Perhaps becoming King had helped to calm this side of his character, the realization he had when he killed Iofur Raknison and took back his throne, and from reckless and grumpy he had become strong, stable, placated in certain situations but an impeccable warrior in others. Svalbard was never the same since the forest south of Svalbard was shrouded in something like a ... thick fog.

Visitors from the south said it was so thick that it could not be crossed in any way. Iorek did not believe in magic, being a skeptic by nature he strongly doubted that it was anything magical. He knew what magic was, he knew where he was going and its magical properties. That was the only kind of magic he believed in.

Was it hypocrisy? Maybe.

Iorek knew that by going to what the local tribes called Ahtohallan, the glacier of memories, he was truly being a hypocrite after a lifetime of denying magic. But his people, his house suffered like never before ... what other choice did he have? Nothing had worked. Addressing the spirits was his last chance to try to stop what was happening to his land. Ahtohallan was his last chance, and if he didn't go there, the end would come for Svalbard.

Thepath had been long, winding, different from when his father had brought him there when he was little. Walking on the ground, no matter how tireless he was, became difficult due to the absence of snow. But Iorek did not give up and advanced. He advanced, and advanced to exhaustion until the entrance of Ahtohallan overlooked the landscape of Svalbard with all the majesty of the light of the cold ice. Finally feeling the ice beneath him was reassuring but in a way it increased the despair in memory of the times when Svalbard was teeming with ice.

Useless.

Iorek felt useless. "Spirits, great Spirits." He murmured, bowing his head until his big wet nose touched the ground "Please, I beg you ... my land is dying and I ... I don't know what to do anymore." If he could, if he had the ability, Iorek would have cried ... but he didn't, the panserbjørn didn't cry. There was no Panserbjørn who had ever cried, they manifested their emotions differently ... but if Iorek could have shed bitter tears for the love of his land, his homeland abandoned for so long under a despicable deception. "I need a sign." And with these words the fatigue got the better. An anomalous tiredness, but which led him to collapse in front of Ahtohallan's door. Above the ice he could see his image ... yes a King, but at that moment he only saw a bear. An ordinary bear, not the son of one of Svalbard's greatest kings ... it didn't even look like blood of his own blood. A wandering bear. A lost bear, a bear that begs entities without even a foundation.

"I need you."

And with this last whisper he bent down completely, devastated by what his land was becoming. As if he were about to die with it, abandoning himself between the walls of that sacred place. Iorek did not know if time was passing, he had no certainty at that moment. The only one was the fact that that ice had been untouched by the devastation of Svalbard, by everything the island was facing.

a voice.

Iorek raised his head, looking around like a lost cub, separated from its mother too soon. He knew he heard a voice,clear and crystalline. He hadn't imagined it ...

He was sure.

"Who is there?" the voice again, this time even more clearly. That vocal bounced off Ahtohallan's walls ... with a power that made the hair stand on his back.

What it was? It was calling him to it, whatever it was.

He got up and walked, entering the heart of the glacier of memories observing its walls as ancient as time "who are you? What do you want?" Asking 'what do you want?' to a spirit who wants to help you, nice move ...

But a little curiosity was audited ... or not?

All Iorek knew was that the temperature was getting lower and lower, and it kept dropping until an icy wind mixed with his voice. Anger assailed him like thunder in a lightning storm ... that the spirits had misled him? Could be? He wondered as he was flapped by a wind that was beyond anything he had ever experienced "Get it over with!" he roared, trying to wriggle at that current. Hold on, shake it off. It didn't take much for him to release all the repressed anger and frustration caused by immeasurable stress. The king of Svalbard shook as if trying to wipe the water from his fur, with such violence that he felt like he was going to tear his ears out in the attempt, and this time he roared hoarsely, wearily, angry and directed at the maddening wind.

As if two currents of air had collided, a roar filled Ahtohallan from the center to the foundations as soon as the roar came out of the mouth of the King of Svalbard, as if the wind were intimidated by those long fangs and that rough and primitive power , but very angry. The wind stopped, and everything taque. Iorek kept his eyes fixed on his paws in an insistent way as if he didn't want to see anymore.

Was coming there a mistake? Maybe I had to change island?

"Iorek Byrnison."

Who? Who had called his name?

"Look at me."

Iorek raised his head and a scarred face fixed inside his eyes

"rejoice, O King of Svalbard." He said

"The fifth Spirit is returning."

The ... fifth Spirit. The same fifth spirit that was gone. The first bear on Svalbard spoke in a thunderous voice as old as ice just before disappearing into the glacier's this, acient air. His body dissolved into a clear cloud, luminous snow particles that, exactly as they arrived, went off into the depths of Ahtohallan.

Too far for him. Iorek repeated it before his legs could even move to try to chase him ...

If he continued, he would face certain death from a lost cause.

No one had ever entered the deepest depths of that place and had come out to tell it ...

The lullaby that went hand in hand with the legend spoke clearly "not too far, or you'll be drowned." and as much as he hated the frivolity of lullabies, that one was particularly suggestive : A river that contains every memory, every moment ... that rewards those willing to leave behind what they love to reach it. At that point it's up to you not to go too far, because then the river will have no mercy on you. He remembered the times when his mother told him this legend in the den. Back when Iorek was little, Ahtohallan was accessible to a certain extent ...

And Iorek Byrnison chose to believe, for once.

[ivebeenreadingandwriting]

If Lyra and Iorek were hoping for a quiet stay, they were wrong.

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It was incredibly chilling how much a city could smell so of fear, of escape, of life left halfway in that picturesque colorful landscape, yet cold and bare despite the sea waves creating a sort of contrast between the tranquility of an abandoned country and the awareness to be alone in a place so ... empty, messily chaotic for the matter.

But still empty.

The only figures to fill the calculated spaces with a triangular architecture connected to itself were the girl, her daemon, and the white bear. All three were battered with no injuries, so on this side they had been fortunate not to have suffered bodily repercussions from crossing parallel worlds. But they were hot and cold at the same time, tired and badly in need of a full night's sleep.

But caution was inherent in Lyra's footsteps: she and Pan walked a few paces ahead of Iorek, who was holding the rear guard with a skeptical, wary, unconvinced look of his surroundings. Lyra had seen him snort just before passing him with two steps, but immediately he had stretched his muzzle and through the delicate use of his teeth had pulled her back to him from the teal shirt that she still wore from Bolvangar. "Do not start walking away." he told her. Offended, Lyra turned her wild head towards him. "I wasn't! I was looking around!" she bristled, her nose wrinkled in the process. Any other human who faced him so brazenly would have ended up with his face smashed to the ground without going out of the way: but when Lyra was proving her worth, not backing down, Iorek felt his heart grow so proud. And also amused in a way, because the sight of that little face so ferocious yet still so childish brought up big smiles. But Panserbjørne don't smile, they show their affection in other ways.

And his affection was playfully snorting in her face, tickling her cheeks in the process. Lyra immediately chuckled, albeit with some annoyance, shielding her face. "stop that!" she screeched laughing. "Iorek!"

"Now listen to me. Walk beside me and don't go away." he said "if I lose sight of you, I won't have the chance to find you here."

His senses might not work as well as in their world, and if Lyra got lost, finding her would be a mess. Prevention is better than cure.

Lyra, who was stubborn but not disobedient, realized that Iorek had no intention of giving her way. Then she followed him: Iorek had the power to make her obey in the net time of five seconds, seven at the most. But because Lyra admired him so much that even just arguing as she did with Asriel seemed disrespectful to her, precisely because Iorek had great respect and admiration for the little girl he had renamed, and whom he considered as one of them. It would have been ungrateful.

Then the little girl walks cautiously next to the white bear as he gazes at his surroundings equally wary and cautious. The city was a real disaster, a slaughterhouse. Some wooden doors had been removed from the hinges, others lay on the ground ... there were writing erased on signs everywhere and childish drawings on the walls. Some shops still had clothing and food inside, but all the doors that remained were wide open.

Crates of fruit had been spilled on the ground, and apples, pears, apricots lay motionless on the roughly set stone ground. Lyra bent down to pick a few, just to understand what she was talking about. "someone must have gone in a hurry." Pan murmured as he leaned over to smell a very bad looking fruit. "It's been a while ... this stuff has gone rotten." His marten face twisted at that acrid smell. "this kind of fruit goes rotten quickly." corrected Iorek "they may have been gone for a day."

But the town was too decayed to have been abandoned for a single day. It had been uninhabited for weeks, perhaps ... difficult to understand. "what happened in this place?" Lyra wondered as she stood up and started walking next to Iorek. "maybe Asriel...?" Pan began.

"I wouldn't rule it out." Lyra responded with acidity and anger, continuing to observe the town and the sky slowly unfolding above their heads.

Something had happened in this place ... maybe people had fled for an outside attack? Iorek surveyed the walls, peering at them carefully with a critical eye. He excluded a war on his own: there were no signs of blood or marks from bullets or arrows. It was as if the city had depopulated overnight. "Lyra, can you consult the alethiometer and ask where we are?" but before Iorek could even finish, an unknown though subtle rage in Lyra railed at him briefly. "I'm not going to ask that thing anything." she growled, not looking at the Panserbjørne in his eyes. Lyra had been, more often than not, quite calm beside Iorek's presence. But now he could clearly see anger in her and frustration, clearly at Roger's death. He paused to watch her marching, her soft brown curls sitting on her shoulders and rocking with each abrupt step. "Lyra-" Pan began.

"No." she answered resolutely, her thin brows curled down threateningly as she looked at the wall beside her for signs in their language.

Not even Iorek recognized the language he saw written everywhere ... By ear it could have been Latin, but it was much less articulate and short."now we have to make our way alone." Iorek spoke calmly, "Lyra, try to be reasonable."

But the girl shook her head, lips tightly closed in a strike of silence.

And once Lyra gets stubborn like this, good luck trying to move her. Iorek gave her a nudge with his nose to make her walk "let us find a place to stay, then we shall decide what to do."

"what place?"

"It is full of empty houses, any one will do."

The house they found, which seemed quite spacious from the outside, had been closed with wooden poles stuck between the two handles of the main door. But once those were broken, the house would be accessible.

"Can you break down the door?" Lyra suggested to Iorek.

"Let's try the sweet manners for once." replied the bear, simply cutting the piece of wood in half with his index claw (thick, strong and sharp as a knife) The half-broken wood fell to the ground with a crashing sound, and automatically the dusty doors swung open sending dust in the face of the trio, who coughed and sneezed in response. "we're off to a good start ..." Lyra commented, sneezing into her arm. Pan sniffed "A dusting in here wouldn't hurt." Iorek did not deign to answer them, he just poked his head inside the house to observe the surroundings. He smelled stuffy, musty ... but the oxygen was there and seemed quite livable. He took a sniff in the air to see if there was any danger, but the way seemed clear "Come in, but do be careful." he said "don't go upstairs until I tell you."

"you say there might be someone here?"

"Do not move too fast, and do not attract attention anyway."

Whose attention, exactly? that city was empty. But without arguing and wasting their time Lyra walked in behind the bear with cautious and slow steps, coat still leaning on her shoulder and her daemon trotting behind her. Iorek now had one paw resting on the rough surface of the symmetrical stairs leading upstairs, neck tilted up and nose functioning to detect foreign odors or dangers. Lyra put her coat down on a chair, walking towards the back of the stove to see if there was any water they could carry around so as not to die of thirst, when suddenly she felt watched.

It wasn't Iorek.

It wasn't Pan.

And when a dark hand came to touch her shoulder, her nerves jumped before Iorek could even warn her of the danger. She turned with a lightning jerk, violently planted a hand in the shoulder of the one behind her and gave a shove grabbing the opposite arm of the other to keep it yanked backwards and with equal violence she sank her elbow into the back of their neck, shoving with all the force that stood straight on the surface of the table with a dull thud. Whoever it was, landing so hard on the wooden table was hurt quite badly. "Lyra!"

Before Iorek's voice could even reach her, he had already rushed to her rescue. But he had stopped immediately at the sight of a boy, at a guess much taller and stronger than her, stuck under Lyra's elbow and trying to tilt his neck to look at the one who had just landed him against a table without a precise reason. "you're hurting me!" he said in a loud, frightened voice.

Lyra had no mercy. In fact, she gritted her teeth and pushed her arm even further into the back of his neck. "so you learn to move stealthily." she growled straight into his ear.

"okay! I scared you! I'm sorry!"

"you didn't scare me! I scared you!"

Iorek had never felt more proud.

The boy spoke again. "let me go, please." he said quickly, breathing heavily. With yet another shove against the table Lyra freed him, and he hurried to get up and walk away from Lyra with his back to Iorek. And the bear was silent. "who are you?" the boy asked.

"Lyra Silvertongue."

It was the first time the new name Iorek had given her had left Lyra's mouth, and with so much pride. As if she meant 'yes, Silvertongue will forever be my name.' as the boy picked up some meanwhile fallen vase pieces, inadvertently bumping into the white mountain that was Iorek and backing away before he even got to look him in the eye "oh my god-"

"that's Iorek." Lyra replied nonchalantly while Iorek's eyes flashed in the direction of the boy, intent on fearing for his life as he swung his gaze between the girl and the bear. "Where does it come from?"

"he, not it." Lyra corrected sharply "his name is Iorek, and I'm Lyra. Are you deaf or what? Is this your house" The boy didn't seem angry, he was just confused and a little sore. You know how it is ... An unknown girl had just slammed his face against a table, and a white bear was glaring at him. "No. I'm Will." he answered, keeping a safe distance from both of them "Will Parry." he gave a tentative smile, but it was cut off quickly because Lyra was glaring at him suspiciously. At least until Pan came out from behind her, little black eyes looked at Will in surprise. "finally, someone else to talk to!" he said.

Will's eyesbrows shot up.

"and that's Pan."

The boy remained silent, total silence as he stared at Pan with wide eyes "how does he talk?"

Iorek and Lyra blinked in sync. Why did the boy seem so perplexed and surprised?

"Is this your town?"

if Pan's voice had unsettled him, Iorek's voice made him jump with fright. Hearing a bear speak in such an inquisitive way would make anyone turn white. Will opened his mouth, suddenly dry, and tried to let out a few words. Amazement stopped him, and he turned back to Lyra indicating briefly to Iorek "He talks too?" And the girl shrugged "yeah, but he doesn't talk much." She answered.

Pan began to look around the boy, while Will waved his gaze between Iorek and Pan "Talking animals ..." and a smile had made its way across his serious face. He didn't even try to reach out to caress Iorek, because he knew losing a limb would be all too easy. He then he turned to caress Pan's little head, bending over to the counter and holding out a hand.

But before she could even get close, Lyra tensed and stepped between Pan and him making a steady, threatening eye contact with him. "he's not a talking animal!" she exclaimed indignantly. "he's my daemon!"

Dæmon?

In the sense of a demon?

Will felt his brows curve down. "your what?"

The bear took a step forward from behind them, eyes pricking up. "you don't have a dæmon?" Lyra asked, looking around. "I don't see one." Pan enchoed softly, a lot more softly than Lyra.

Who was this girl? Who were the animals that accompanied her? Will shrugged gently. "I don't know what you're talking about- I don't know who you guys are, nor where you come from-" But it was at that moment that an unfriendly spark appeared in Lyra's eyes, and the girl immediately backed away. "No." she murmured, turning only to the last when she was towards the door. "Pan, Iorek, let's go." The ermine on the counter followed closely, the bear did not hesitate to go behind them leaving Will alone in the room.

"Lyra Silvertongue, wait!"

[ivebeenreadingandwriting]

Lee : I'm gonna jump!

Iorek : do a backflip!

[ivebeenreadingandwriting]

"She thinks you're as brave as Iorek Byrnison"

I MEAN THAT'S ONE DANG COMPLIMENT

gaaah i love Will 😭

will being such a complete utter baddass at the age of what? twelve? so much that lyra compared him to iorek almost every chapter is the biggest flex

[ivebeenreadingandwriting]

AIGHT I'm gonna just fangirl 'bout how well done the casting for Asriel,Marisa and Lyra was.

Like--- DAFNE AND RUTH HAVE THE SAME NOSE, BROWS AND HAIR COLOR--

top notch casting.

[ivebeenreadingandwriting]

he player WHO?!! MA BOY SIMBA?!?!? OMG SIMBA & WILL IM- *dies* CROSSOVER INCOMING

HOLD UP.

Amir Wilson played Young Simba in the London version of The Lion King?!?

WHAT-

[ivebeenreadingandwriting]

I love one (1) lion

SIMBA ICONS

Icons of Simba ( The Lion King )

You’re free to use these icons! No need to credit me but please like & comment so I know that you are using one of these icons. Very much appreciated.

[ivebeenreadingandwriting]

We Stan a King

Do you know what the best thing about Lion King 2?

No, not Kovu being hot, also it does get points for this.

It's that in the first movie, Simba said "getting cubs engaged to each other is stupid, I am so gonna cancell this tradition when I am older", and in the second movie he did, even though he ended up falling in love with the one he was engaged to. By the end he let his daughter marry the one she wanted to. What a power move.

[ivebeenreadingandwriting]

LYRA&WILL | “you’re my favourite color” - carly rae jepsen

[ivebeenreadingandwriting]

Iorek, Lyra and Pan are alone in this world. As they advance, they have a clear goal of finding a place to stay.

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Lyra had never had a dreamless night in her sleep.

Each night was like a projection of different images in her brain, each night she was something different. One night she was a witch, the other she was flying over the skies, on another night Pan had settled into a dolphin ... she liked dolphins, but having a dolphin as a daemon would have been quite uncomfortable especially for traveling. What was she supposed to do, carry a giant saltwater bowl with her? Quite inconvenient.

But Lyra didn't dream that night.

They had not continued after crossing the gap between the worlds because according to Iorek and Pan, Lyra was exhausted and in need of rest.

She had willingly given in to the prospect of getting some sleep and she had reclined against Iorek's warm side, her face pressed against his white fur and her body curled up against him. Lulled by the rhythm of her breathing, she had slipped into sleep. A dark sleep, devoid of light or images. A dream without nightmares, but without dreams in turn. Neither a witch, nor the north who she had dreamed so much at Jordan. Just dark.

And before she knew it, it was morning and the birds were singing in the branches of that warm world. She realized she was awake and alert when Pan climbed onto her back and waved her hair with a paw "Lyra. Lyra." he called her softly, yet it didn't matter how sweet his tone was. Lyra winced awake anyway, her body instinctively tensing, activating her fight-or-flight reflexes. A sharp breath came from her mouth and her eyes widened, but she remained lying on the damp ground. Or rather, she had used her winter coat as a mattress to keep from sleeping on the floor. During the night she must have moved: she had curled up against her Iorek now her back pressed against the side of the white bear, his breath moved her rhythmically and from it she understood that the bear was sleeping. He didn't seem to have woken up, he was probably as tired as she was. They found themselves in a new world overnight, quite literally, and traversing a parallel universe is tiring. Exactly if a few hours earlier you fought for your life, chased your father to the top of a mountain and saw your best friend die. Iorek was relatively well, having quite recovered from the fight against Iofur. Lyra and Pan were tired to the core.

She didn't get up right away, she only got up to lie down better against Iorek and get some more sleep.

But her body was awake, there was no way to go back to sleep now. Pan held the shape of an ermine and lay down on Lyra's chest, the girl closed a hand around her daemon and hugged him to her. "are you still tire"

"I don't wanna sleep."

"We have plenty of time, rest."

Not if Mrs. Coulter was after them.

That woman knew more than the devil, so it was only natural that she was already looking for them with her goddamn men. Her mother sometimes seemed so charitable and kind, nice and caring... and then she got mad and her daemon attacked Pan.

She was unpredictable. She felt the tears burn on the edge of her eyes, but wiped them away angrily. It was anger mixed with pure sadness, loss, fury against her parents and against herself. Pan said nothing, put his little head on Lyra's shoulder and she hugged him. Her tears did not flow, Pan had a calming effect on her. "Shall we wake up Iorek and go?" suggested the daemon.

Lyra shook her head "as long as we can be quiet, let's be okay." she said. Their tone of voice was low, but Iorek's left ear twitched that suggested he was listening to Lyra and Pan conversing and that he had woken up.

The girl sighed "there, we woke him up."

She placed a hand on the Panserbjørne's shoulder, turning to watch him as the bear raised his head solemnly: if there was fatigue in his eyes, Lyra did not see it. Iorek was hard to read, he always had been. The few times an emotion had been on his face it had been during their first meeting: he had always been frowning, perpetually angry. Only when his face relaxed could she realize how calming Iorek's presence was.

Without him now they would be alone, she and Pan, with no one to rely on. Iorek could have easily left her alone and returned to Svalbard ... but he had put her and her safety before his reign. He had refused to let her go alone.

"you didn't wake me up." answered the bear "I was already awake for a while." and his jaws flew open in a jaw-splitting yawn before he looked back at Lyra. She snorted lightly from her nostrils, resting against his side and hugging her arms with her hands. She didn't feel cold because she wasn't cold. The weather seemed cool enough not to put on her coat, she should have put it on her shoulder as they walked.

"where are we going?" As if any of them knew where they were headed, where they were going. There was no town nearby, as far as she knew, there just seemed to be trees. Trees reaching to the end of the earth, there seemed to be nothing but hollows, hills and trees.

Lyra leaned back against Iorek, leaving her head behind until she looked up at the clear, cloudless sky. Pan about her climbed onto her arm and onto her head and Iorek followed her gaze up to the sky.

"now we find the city in the sky."

The forest was thick and unwelcoming.

It was damp, wet, and full of mud that clung to boots, legs, and clothes. Not to mention the mosquitoes, annoying as few but definitely noisy. More than anything else, the hums continued to make the trio nervous, although Iorek was still protected by his armor. Every now and then he would dig a paw into the muddy ground to chase away the gnats and mosquitoes, or he would snap his jaws and then continue. The weather alternated between sunny skies, moments of high heat, cold, and rain. By the time they reached the edge of the forest, they were wet, exhausted, and mud-stained on their clothes and fur. Lyra had alternated between walking and standing on Iorek's back as the bear made its way through the forest until it leveled off, leaving room for a valley and a rise in the ground.

Lyra looked around her: she could see much more from the bear's back, Pan was curled up between the bear's neck and shoulders. Her hair was damp, curled from humidity, and two dark circles under her eyes were hidden by the dark light of the atmosphere after dark. Iorek advanced in rhythmic, cadenced and rocking steps, but steady and determined. The bear had not shown fatigue as his stamina was much more built than Lyra's, who was only a child. Yet he didn't utter a word, not even half a sentence. Anything.

Lyra knew that Iorek was trying to concentrate on picking up any signs of civilization nearby so they could find the city in the sky and decide what to do next. But Lyra felt tired.

"I hear you yawn." Iorek commented as Lyra's mouth dropped open in a yawn. The girl immediately closed her mouth, looking at the Panserbjørne. Iorek was watching her from the corner of his eye, if a smile could ever appear on her that face of her at that point he would surely have given her a benevolent side smile.

"sleep, I'll wake you up when we arrive."

Lyra rubbed her eyes "no, wake me before we arrive ..." but she was already lying on Iorek's back "I want to see the city ..."

"You'll see it. But now sleep."

Lyra mumbled something sleepily, but soon fell asleep like a stone on the bear's back. He'd spent those days of traveling sleeping, walking next to Iorek, standing on his back, talking to Pan ... But the sun hadn't always been in their favor.

A few days later the rain had caught them, and they had to take shelter in a nearby cave. It was big enough for everyone, and they had a chance to warm each other up by snuggling up to each other. And it was just when Lyra had curled up between Iorek's front paws to protect herself from the cold that at some point she had started sobbing. And she clung to Iorek as if he were an anchor, and the bear hugged her as her little body was shaken. "I miss Roger too." Pan said, as he snuggled against Lyra softly.

Lyra had lost a friend.

It was obvious that she was crying.

It was obvious that she was weeping her soul away and she fell asleep exhausted against the bear's chest. And it was sunset that same day that Iorek stopped just near a cliff.

"Lyra."

And Lyra, with those brown eyes, had woken up with a start from a hill in front of her, or so it seemed in the dark. In reality the tip of it was a tower and under it...

"the city in the sky."

[ivebeenreadingandwriting]

I’m not realy feeling this one so it’s gonna stay like this I guess

[ivebeenreadingandwriting]

right now i can see Lyra shrieking "IOREK, THE SPECTERS! BE CAREFUL" and that knucklehead Just going in for a stare contest with a specter lmao

Quick question...

Would the Panserbjørne be immune to the specters?

[ivebeenreadingandwriting]

Quick question...

Would the Panserbjørne be immune to the specters?

[ivebeenreadingandwriting]

we could be an ancient tale - chapter 5: east

Or John and Will stumble across an aeronaut whilst Mary and Elaine set out on a journey of their own.

[ivebeenreadingandwriting]

Check It out!

Iorek Byrnison crosses worlds with Lyra. He, Lyra and Pan find themselves in a transit city between their world and another, totally different. The fulfillment of a prophecy has them all as protagonists, but at what cost?

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"LYRA!"

The cry that had emerged from the throat of the Panserbjørne could not overcome the roar that the friction with the air emanated, much less the shock wave that shook every type of living particle in her body. But worse still… he had seen Lyra Silvertounge, her protégé, his little friend, the child he had sworn to protect, fall off the precipice, overwhelmed by the shockwave the cut had caused.

Her small body had been thrown out of the metal cage where he, by giving her a shove, had helped her approach in a last-ditch effort to save Roger. But the blade had got in the way between the delicate and strong bond between daemon and person with a growing hiss ...

And then the impact of the energy that was released.

The little boy fell back, all kinds of life now flown from him, every kind of color had been sucked from his normally red cheeks. And Salcilia was gone, she had dissolved into a cloud of golden dust merging with the air and abandoning the body state. And a few meters from where he was, Lyra had crashed disastrously to the ground. Her frail little body made such a powerful friction as it fell from such a height that a cloud of snow rose beside her ... and Lyra stood still. His breath caught vehemently right in his throat.

A Panserbjørn does not feel fear easily, it is not part of his nature to be scared. But Iorek, proud in all his being a bear, at that moment felt dying of fear when he saw that stubborn child, stubborn and innocent despite everything not moving an inch after that fall.

Come on, Lyra ... come on! It was what his nerves screeched as he ran to her, an unfamiliar panic attacking his lungs violently, squeezing them in the tightest, hardest of grips. She wasn't pale, she wasn't cold.

She at least she was alive, she must have just banged her head against the snow ... she was going to get away with it. Yet that paternal instinct that had only recently developed pushed him to move her face with his muzzle, the big wet nose rubbed against her cheek. "Lyra? Lyra Silvertongue, can you hear me?" And his deep, flat tone betrayed a hint of concern. A tinge of sheer terror that he didn't even try to suppress as he carefully sniffed the little girl's head, her red hat still firmly anchored to her dark head to check for any kind of confusion or injury.

Lyra didn't move, though, although she didn't look hurt.

Iorek's heart was going crazy in his chest, a pace only achieved while he used to run. Why didn't Lyra move? Why was she still motionless?

He nudged her one more time, trying to shield her from the cold ...

and then the girl stretched, stiff and confused. "Iorek..."

And Iorek allowed himself to breathe, and felt his solid chest let go against the plates of his armor in a sigh that he wasn't aware was trapped in his torso's cavity. Lyra tried to look at him, tilting her head up with confused eyes to observe the illegible expression of the Panserbjørn. His face hadn't moved, but his eyes spoke volumes. He let his eyes close for a brief moment, lowering his muzzle to examine Lyra (just to be safe), his breath lifting her hair in the process as she struggled to at least get to her knees. "Iorek, is that you?"

She had a fragile, broken voice ... helpless and scared. Iorek let a breath go against the back of her neck in comfort. "I am here, Lyra Silvertongue. Do not move, you've had a bad fall." letting his voice reach a low, comforting tone that could soothe her. But Lyra seemed to fidget even more under that imposition, and immediately she tried to turn around once more shaking on her own movement "R-Roger ... Iorek ... Roger is up there."

The boy was up there, yes. But he wasn't alive.

That smell of opacity, firmness that lightened in the air was clear. Crystalline. There was nothing left of Roger Parslow but an empty seat, and beside him the cage of his beloved soul, his Salcilia, was as empty as an arctic wasteland. He had smelled the smell of death before... But this was a drier, more absent and neutral version than when Hjalmur died.

And the helpless body lay there, in the cage, left behind as if it were a worthless rag doll. "Iorek- we have to go to Roger ... please let me get up there."

Getting up there to hold a dead body?

Iorek opened his mouth to try to dissuade her, but it was there that the two pairs of dark eyes met and the Panserbjørne was greeted by the sight of two red eyes on either side, glistening with water gushing freely from them down Lyra's cheeks, and the child's lower lip was curled inward, as if she was ready to start sobbing. But she did not take her gaze, that gaze full of agony, from Iorek's eyes... and it was those tears that pulled the strings of his heart, in such an unexpected way that the Panserbjørne blinked and looked at her intently.

He had seen Lyra cry several times during the journey, but one had been when she had crouched beside him and his battered body in the fight against Iofur as he tried to get up, one leg after another ... but it seemed that his muscles refused to answer for a brief moment, but in his mind it was all a show. A staging that the phony King had fallen for in full, believing that Iorek was dying by observing the way he couldn't stand up straight, how he struggled for air. And Lyra had been crying exactly after she had slipped to her knees beside him and wrapped her head with her arms to comfort him and had seen him slump his chin on her legs, worn out to the bone from her point of view. And that wild little head pressed against the side of his own with tenderness, warm tears crashing down her young cheeks as she murmured sobbing words including his name, over and over.

But then he had seen Iofur ready to jump on her, to sweep her away with a paw ... and Iorek felt a jet of anger counter the theatricality, with a sprint of energy mixed pure fury had rushed between Lyra and Iofur, but the tears of the child were not stopped so easily. Lyra had been to Bolvangar in the first place, first of all of them. She knew what they were doing there ... she knew why Roger was lifeless in the cage and why Salcilia was gone.

She wanted to say goodbye to Roger, to her childhood companion, her best friend.

An impromptu farewell, but no less poignant or sad.

Iorek granted it to her. He couldn't do anything else. Roger had been, along with Lyra, under his protection. And he had failed to protect him, a new failure for Iorek Byrnison. One of many in his life.

Lyra sniffed incessantly as she gently stroked the boy's face, Pan beside her with his paws resting on Roger's motionless arm watching him with sad eyes.

Lyra's face, in stark contrast to the stillness of Roger's, was a mask of tears, sheer pain and suffering as her hand continued to search for signs of her friend's life. "His face is still warm." she murmured, thick voice with tears that still hadn't come down. But her lower lip was already quivering and curling, her vision blurred of her as Pan reached her. Iorek stayed behind Lyra, watching that lifeless little body from behind the girl's shoulder letting go of sounds of consolation. When bear cubs were in pain, their mother would always let go of pacifying sounds to calm them ... in her heart Iorek hoped they could calm Lyra, too. But Lyra didn't seem to sense them. She just looked at Iorek in a lost, defenseless way. As if the Panserbjørne could magically bring her best friend back to life. "I-Iorek." his name sounded so strange said in such a broken voice "his face is still warm." she repeated desperately, looking at Iorek pleadingly. Yes, Roger Parslow's face was still warm... but his daemon was gone. There was no mistaking it... slowly Iorek shook his head. "he's gone, Lyra Silvertongue." he sentenced softly, though seeing Lyra's expression tore a piece of his heart. The little girl leaned over Roger, tightening her arms around him, shaking as if Roger were sleeping and she could wake him up by giving him some warmth. "I thought he wanted the alethiometer..." she said. Her eyes still fixed on Roger's sleeping face. "I was wrong ... I was wrong about everything."

Her father had deceived her.

First he made it clear that he didn't want her here. He didn't want his daughter here, after the little girl had traversed the north and earned a reputation as one of the bravest humans Iorek had ever known and one of her was so young. "I didn't even say goodbye to him." And with that a sob left her throat, and Lyra slumped over her Roger holding him tightly to her. And Iorek allowed himself to put a paw on Lyra's back to comfort her. Humans did that, right? he wasn't sure what to do. No one had ever cried in front of him.

"I brought him here." she murmured against Roger's face "I cheated on him...He was safe at Jordan college...I took him to his death."

No.

Iorek nudged Lyra on the shoulder. "You didn't bring him to his death." he told her, a paternal hardness in his voice (more paternal than Asriel's would ever be) "The Gobblers brought him here. Not you."

"But I suggested him to go north!"

The Panserbjørne shook his head. "You fought for him with all your might. There was nothing else you could do. You were valiant, Lyra."

But the little girl shook her head, fresh tears free-falling again. "Not enough. If I had been braver Roger would be alive." If she had been braver and had come here alone, Asriel would have intercepted Pan from her. He could have killed his own daughter, the blood of his blood, out of sheer selfishness. Iorek suppressed a shiver. "You would have been in danger if you had come alone."

"It would have been better...at least Roger would have been safe." A long silence followed, interspersed only with Lyra's sharp breaths and Roger's name inside each murmur. "what do we do now? Iorek...what do I do now?"

...what to do now?

He could have taken Lyra back to Svalbard for the night, but the next morning? What would she do next morning? The Magisterium was looking for her, her mother was looking for her... sending her back to London was an unexaminable option.

So what to do?

Pantalaimon's eyes followed the trail of light that opened, tearing the northern sky. Where was it leading? Was it really the gateway to another world?

"What if dust is good?" It was Lyra's daemon who spoke, watched, reflected as that anomalous light fell upon them, brightening the night sky. "The magisterium is afraid of it, it fears it..."

Iorek and Lyra turned their gaze to the opening at the same time. Pan was right...if the Magisterium thought dust was evil, then most likely it was something that could be used to their advantage.

But at what cost?

The opening of the portal alone had already cost an innocent life ... Exactly as the works in Bolvangar had caused the disappearance and then the death of numerous children including little Billy Costa and his Ratter.

"Maybe It needs protection."

Lyra didn't take her eyes off the opening "are you saying we should go ... and find it before he does?" she looked skeptical, scared. She turned her gaze back to Iorek to see if he agreed, but she looked at nothing in his face except his usual hard scarred courage. "Do you know what that means? We would be alone ... you, Iorek and I...we would be alone."

Iorek gave her a gentle pat on the shoulder with his muzzle "We will help each other. No one is ever alone." he said. Yet without Roger the world now seemed a hundred times more lonely to Lyra as Pan scrambled gently into her arms and onto her shoulder.

Lyra's wet eyes moved away from Iorek to Roger again and his face pale and transparent in the light. "So we should ... leave him here?"

And it was like a stab in his heart as she bent down, leaning to hold that body close to herself. Roger was getting colder, less and less ... Roger. The little girl gently stroked the cheek of her friend, lips pressed to his hat in that tearful hug, the last they would have exchanged and which Roger could not reciprocate. New tears came down.

But Lyra, brave little Lyra, spoke anyway "We have to make sure they don't win." Lyra had told him some time ago that part of her was surely bear. She had been skeptical of her cheekiness of hers and how she wasn't afraid of him in the slightest, not even one bit. An ordinary child would have been afraid right away, but not Lyra who had proceeded to call him a coward on their first meeting. And the way her eyes now sparkled with determination behind the tears... Yes. Lyra was one of them.

She observed the opening between the worlds and then Roger's face "...we have to go, Roger. Okay?" He said, speaking to him as if Roger were actually just asleep. As if he could wake up and listen to her. Her voice trembled, but Lyra kept talking to him "me, Iorek and Pan ... we'll go to the skies and look for dust."

Pan stepped down on Lyra's arm. "we'll make sure your death wasn't in vain." she said softly "goodbye, Roger." and so Roger Parslow was placed on the cold soil of Svalbard as his final resting place. The snow would run his course, his body would serve nature.

Lyra caressed his head one last time softly, then placed a kiss on his forehead and finally stood up with squared shoulders, Pan about her in her arms and Iorek at a safe distance to give her time to say goodbye to her childhood best friend. Then she turned, and Iorek slowly approached.

They were ready to cross.

Lyra's gloved hand rested on Iorek's shoulder as she took her first step into the new world, the Panserbjørne followed suit.

Lyra, her daemon, and Iorek disappeared into the window between worlds.

[ivebeenreadingandwriting]

Me, standing atop of a counter with a Subtle Knife replica in my hand : GIMME MORE HDM CONTENT OR GIMME DEATH

Philip Pullman and HBO, snatching the knife away from me : give me a break

[ivebeenreadingandwriting]

Pinterest has been throwing a lotta pics of Dafne Keen at me and it's just occured to me that she's already 16 and it won't be long before she's a legal adult.

Like hahahahaha nooo stay child pls