As the landscaped changed Lyra stepped back, glancing around as the world faded. As the Monument was revealed her eyes widened, and something deep within her seemed to resonate. She didn't understand it, couldn't know it, yet she somehow felt drawn to it. In quick strides Lyra strode to the very edge of that glyph, looking up at the creature as it began to wink out, each eye closing one at a time.
"Whatever I desire?" Lyra asked, uncertain. It was such a simple thing, but she had never thought about what it was she really wanted. Who was Lyra, and what did SHE want? Was everything she did to go back to Lyrielle? What would happen when she did? Would she stop being who she was? Did she want that?
"No." Lyra said softly, the fog flowing in around her as she stood staring out into the distances from the edge of the cliff.
Was that it? Were her questions answered? Was that all that would come of this meeting? Had it been a waste? A dull pain throbbed in the back of Lyra's head, and she rubbed the spot as she looked through the mist, searching for a sight, a glimpse of the being. The way it had appeared, coming and going as if in a dream. What had it said?
We are what we have chosen to be.
The words made Lyra shiver, and she thought that, maybe, she understands a small fragment of what it meant.
"Can I be like you?" she asked the air, still looking, searching, "Can I be that free?"
She didn't look for an answer, nor did she expect one. Something felt different somehow. Like her perspective had shifted ever so slightly. Her mind drifted over her actions of the season, of the promises she made to mortal and god alike. She thought of the holes in her memory, of the decisions she made up until now. She thought of Odison, of Fawn, of Talon, and Rickter. She thought of the day she was released, and her meeting with the Iron Queen. Pieces of a larger game, a grander puzzle was what she had seen those events as before. Something that was orchestrated, led by the strings of the grande puppeteer, and she had fancied herself among the wise who knew the game for what it was. Now though, Lyra realized something.
There is more than one game. More than one board.
The thought made something click, and she looked down at her hands. The cripple who is whole, Soulless with the broken soul. Contradictory, impossible fallacy... when she looked at it from the perspective of who she was now. Finally, she questioned it.
"Why do I want my pieces?" Her fingers slowly clenched into fists. Why did she play this game at all?
