Lyra pulled off her soiled clothes and threw them in a heap on the floor. She frowned when she realized that nobody would care about her mess or attempt to scold her for her untidiness. There was nobody left to care. Tears rolled down Lyra’s cheeks as she scrubbed the mud and blood off her body, the stiff bristles of the brush turning her skin pink. The Academy had been her home for many years and now it no longer existed. Her tears helped fill her wash tub as she thought about never seeing her mother again. Everything that had happened today seemed like a bad dream to her and she wished she could wake up and find her mother complaining about her missing classes again. Lyra breathed the aroma of the coarse soap and realized that she was not dreaming. Quickly, she finished washing and got dressed.

Before she headed downstairs, Lyra detoured back to her father’s study, carefully avoiding the pools of blood. Stepping over the body of Master Caulder, Lyra averted her eyes from her mother’s body and moved to the wall of bookshelves. Her father, Master Malafar, never let anyone touch his personal library and Lyra had been scolded just for browsing the titles of the books upon it. The Academy had another library that was open to all students, but Master Malafar protected his personal books from student use. Lyra thought she knew why.

Swiftly she scanned the titles, running her finger along the old leather volumes, and had her hunch confirmed. On the very bottom shelf were books dealing with offensive magic. While Master Malafar may have abhorred the use of offensive magic, his love of books would not permit him to discard any, even those, which he would never open again. Realizing the limitations of traveling, Lyra chose three volumes whose titles suggested the most information in the smallest package. Clutching the leather-bound tomes to her chest, Lyra retreated to her room to complete her packing.