It was late, but Lyra couldn’t sleep. She’d tried, more than once, but every time she closed her eyes, she could feel that strange heaviness in the air, like the world was waiting for something bad to happen. So she gave up and went to the balcony instead.

The night was cold, quiet, and kind of beautiful in a lonely way. The moon was half hidden by clouds, and the wind kept brushing her hair into her face. She didn’t care though. The cold helped her think. It kept her mind steady.

She ...