Lyra's POV
Death should have been the end. It should have been darkness and nothing else. But slowly, impossibly, light crept back into my vision.
I opened my eyes to golden reeds stretching endlessly in every direction. They swayed in a breeze I couldn't feel on my skin. Above me, the sky defied everything I knew about reality. Colors flowed like liquid silk across its surface. Purple melted into deep blue, then shifted to coral and amber. Scattered across this impossible canvas hung moons in every phase. Crescent and full, waxing and waning, suspended like precious stones against the painted heavens.
I pushed myself up from the soft earth. My hands left no impression in the soil. No pain tore through my body. No glass pierced my throat. I touched my neck with shaking fingers and found smooth, unmarked skin.
Was this what came after death?
