When her eyes failed, Lyra saw the truth.

In a world that conceals depths that the human mind cannot comprehend, the eye fails to behold wonders lurking just beyond view. All her life, she adhered to a strict code of scientific method in spite of evidence to the contrary, choosing to live in ignorance of forces that could end the world in a blink.

A natural disaster in a neighboring country does not affect you. Until one feels its effects, it’s possible to live without knowing anything or caring to look deeper. Before the age of worldwide communication, a person’s life was an isolated and quaint little thing; one could spend their entire lives in a single village and live a long and fulfilling life, surrounded by loved ones and small, but satisfying achievements.

Not anymore.

When the walls of ignorance are broken, whether by choice or accident, a person becomes aware that there is more waiting. That there’s a truth and new horizon waiting out there, ugly or beautiful as it may be.

She could have drifted gently into that good night, satisfied with how far she came. But she was still a scientist at heart: someone who sought the truth of all things, no matter the form it took.

Waiting in the blinding void between this world and the next was a woman. Her back was turned — not just on Lyra, but all of humanity.

Orange hair that swirled like a dying flame. A body bearing the scars and wounds of a thousand battles.

“You had another chance to remain in this world,” she said. “Why abandon it?’

The same voice that spoke to her three hundred years prior. The only difference this time was that Lyra’s self-made light illuminated the one who stood alone in the end.

“It was my time to go,” Lyra said. “We carry the breath of life for only a fleeting moment before it returns to its source. I’m not going to overstay my welcome.”

“Second chances are far and few between. You existed without ever truly living; would this not be the time to rectify that?”

It was the truth. Lyra barely lived at all, having died before she could accomplish anything truly meaningful.

“We cannot help our circumstances. The people we become are the result of what we go through and the people we meet. Accepting where and what you are will allow you to go much further than the alternative.”

The world was a cruel and unjust place. Both Lyra and the woman knew that well.

Lyra wanted to lament the unfairness of it all. To weep and sulk, to rage against the hand she had been dealt.

“It’s only natural to feel helplessness and despair,” the woman continued. “They’re parts of you that you shouldn’t fear. Embrace yourself as you are — don’t look away from your true self.”

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Lyra saw her true self. It was so easy to accept what she was, helpless and miserable, but she turned away from it all. There was another way.

She had thought her heart to be too jaded, too withered to be able of this introspection. A lifetime of scorn made her numb and uncaring, but things were different now. Her mind was clear.

“This misery was entirely my fault,” Lyra said. “It’s mine and mine alone. I’ll accept the consequences — I won’t run from the responsibility.”

“You’re only creating more misery for yourself as you spurn your hopes and desires. Being honest will quell the pain in your heart.”

The woman was right about one thing: the pain would always be there. Loss. Disappointment. Injustice. These feelings would never go away. At the same time, Lyra knew.

“These are all selfish desires. I know that. But these wishes won’t go anywhere without action. Instead of waiting for somebody else to save me, I’ll take on the future with my own two hands and accept anything that comes. There’s nothing left to fear.”

Fear paralyzes, a poison for the mind. Burning resolve, tempered with the strength to better oneself, is the only cure.

“You’ll burn yourself out with that school of thought,” the woman said, seemingly amused. Perhaps disappointed. “A candle only has so much light to give.”

She knew this offer, because she was foolish enough to accept it once before.

This woman sought to unveil humans in their true form, to let them shine eternally, free from the restraints that once caused them so much grief and suffering.

“You only need a little light to shine in the dark.” Lyra stood up and walked away from the woman. “I see what you’re trying to do. I don’t agree with you — and I won’t be the first. There will be others, and they’ll come for you. They’ll find the truth.”

There are no miracles without a price. Lyra saw that first-hand. And as she denied the woman’s offer, she saw more of what was really going on.

In a cyclical world, the living dance within the perpetual spiral of life and death. Tragedies are doomed to repeat themselves, and misery is unavoidable.

“I see it now. Everything that was. This has happened before, hasn’t it?”

The chains of karma may ensnare this world, yet there is still hope. It may take the most extraordinary of circumstances to produce a different future, but Lyra whole-heartedly believed in this faint possibility.

In this strange state of existence, she saw the nameless girl that she would never see again. A lost soul that had raven black hair and eyes the colour of the open sky, who was trapped in an unfortunate form and a most unfortunate fate.

“This time, I pray you can create your own future.”

Flames and steel; mathematics and words, they have no will of their own. To hurt or heal, protect or destroy, that depends entirely on how they’re used.

Comets have their own paths to take.

And so, Lyra gave the nameless girl a small hug and went on her way.

She didn’t know where she was going. She didn’t know where she’d end up, or if there was even anything out there. But that was fine. No matter where she went, she had a feeling she wouldn’t make the same mistakes.

The nameless girl took in a part of her, that was for certain. Lyra could see it burning within, a smouldering emerald ember that carried her regrets and dreams, the potential that she never got to reach in her own lifetime. It was a heavy weight to carry, but already the girl was stronger than Lyra ever was.

“I’ll be with you. Don’t falter, no matter what comes.”

Words that didn’t need to be said. Perhaps they were said to reassure herself, but Lyra felt the need to say them nonetheless.

It only takes a single drop to create a ripple that shakes a pond. Nothing wrong with throwing a handful of extra pebbles to really make sure you got your point across.

Now then. Lyra had something to do: she was a scientist before, and she was still a scientist here. If anybody had to document the mysteries between this world and the next, it may as well be her.

Clutching her emerald sword, she stepped forward, intending on blazing a trail bright enough to guide the lost through the night.