Knowledge, Lyra found, was an extraordinary aspect of life. Books of ancient worlds, of gods, of witches, of governances, of power, languages of the Old World and the New- anything that sated the expanding hunger of her ambitions she devoured, growing hungrier and hungrier for more. Each time her father readied for his never-ending travels, she would ask of him: “Please, Papa, please bring me more to read, more to learn.”

And because Erasmus loved his dear daughter and the ambitious thirst for knowledge that lived within her, he would acquiesce. He knew in the world they lived in she would need such a repertoire, but as the years went on and the appetite for more grew darker, hungrier, Erasmus feared for the future of his daughter for the world was a nasty place. 

That fear came true the day he came home one day and found a note from his daughter: The world calls upon me. This town is too small, its people too content. I have gone to seek more. Yours, Lyra. And at that moment for the first time in decades, Erasmus prayed to his forgotten gods. 

For a year, Lyra traveled peacefully through the kingdom learning new languages, new cultures, new technologies. For a year, the hunger in her grew, festered. No longer did she sleep, finding solstice in books in the hours of the days. She found herself basking in the glory of her mind, but, still, it was not enough. She wanted more, needed more, and vaguely she remembered something her father had said to her once when her mother had died and she found herself experimenting death. Sometimes, my dear Lyra, knowledge is too much; sometimes curiosity truly does kill the cat. One cannot conquer death, no matter how hard they try. 

At that moment, Lyra knew what she must do. To know true knowledge, true power, she must conquer Death, and in doing so, Life. At dawn the next day, Lyra rode out of the town she had stopped in and set out on her Ultimate Quest for Knowledge.

She picked up where her experimenting had left off, finding long-dead animals along the road and making the potions she had read in Alina Deorum’s Potioneering for Healers, she tried to heal them back to life. Failed, she did, but failure was not an option, not now, not ever. And years later when Lyra crafted a potion of her own, a potion with the blood of man, the flesh of earth, the tears of the gods, and the heart of a creature. She found that sacrifices were easier to find. Lyra, confident in the ritual she had created, found a long-dead snake and set it atop the table, administering the potion and killing her sacrifice.

Rise, she thought, rise and live again. Lightning struck and thunder rolled- the only sound that could be heard besides the pitter-patter of the storm- and Lyra waited. And she waited. And she waited. She would not give up, she would prosper, and she repeated those words in her head over and over, a mantra, a plea. Rise, rise, and live again. And rise, the snake did.

Now it was time for the ultimate test, the Defeat of Life and Death, her name would go down in history. She would have knowledge of the Other Side, she would have the Power to seek more when King Callum heard of her exploits. She smiled darkly, drinking the potion and slicing the neck of the now risen snake, before finally ending her own life.

Little did Lyra know that outside of the secluded cottage she resided in, stood three gods- The God of Life, the Goddess of Death, and the God of the Soul. They looked on as blood pooled around the young woman, watched as she gasped her last breath. The God of the Soul was the first to move, grabbing onto Lyra’s soul before it could climb into her body once again; he handed it to the gods of Life and Death who smirked darkly at the struggling soul.

“Sometimes, my dead Lyra, knowledge is too much; sometimes curiosity truly does kill the cat. One cannot conquer Death,” they repeated the words of her father in unison, the soul stilling before they continued.

 “One does not cheat Death, one can not conquer Life.” They hissed before crushing the soul between their palms.