Lyra woke up on a cold stone and the first thing she noticed was the smell. Old dust. Burnt oil. Something sharp and bitter that stung the back of her throat. The second thing she noticed was that her hands were flat against the floor, her palms warm against stone that should have been freezing. When she pushed herself up slightly, her skin scraped against rough ground and she sucked in a sharp breath

“ouch” she groaned in pain..

This was not her room.

Her heart began to pound as she sat ...