I left my community once, too. Long time ago now. Left everything I had ever known. It felt like the world was ending. But now I can see, it was just beginning to open up in front of me. Full of strangeness and mystery.

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@laura-p-g
I left my community once, too. Long time ago now. Left everything I had ever known. It felt like the world was ending. But now I can see, it was just beginning to open up in front of me. Full of strangeness and mystery.
First, it's been a while since I read the books. Second, I'm ADHD and Pullman writes like Dickens, so it was hard for me to get through it all. The last one is also a giant cluster fuck so if anyone did get through it, you have my sympathy.
Anyway.
So I still don't get why destroying the knife was needed, in the end. And the reason I say this is, if anyone notices, the reason Will spends multiple days, even weeks, crossing into worlds in search of Lyra is because he's lost: figuratively and literally. He's lost because Lyra is his compass. What that means is, she's the one who guides him. He isn't with her and so the knife lacks direction. He can't find her until he knows exactly where she is, because the knife recognises that it's bringing its user to the one they love. When he's with her, he finds the window to the land of the dead easily. He finds the window into the cottage easily, because Lyra is on the other side.
Similarly, Will is Lyra's dust. She has the best insights into the alethiometre only when she's with Will. Notice that, when they had to leave one another, that's when the alethiometre stopped working for Lyra. And she couldn't even really get it to work in the first place until Will in his world made the decision to begin his own journey, thus enabling his dust to reach her.
She is his direction and he is her strength.
Breaking the knife after separating them was entirely unnecessary because without one another, they're unable to do anything. Instead of Paradise Lost (which I've not read, by the way) Pullman pulled a reverse Romeo and Juliet. Two star-crossed lovers from two different worlds who after they fell in love could not be separated even in death. But instead of letting them die together, he murdered their childhoods and then kept them apart even in death. How are they meant to live long, happy and fulfilled lives in their respective worlds when the only time they fully function is when they're with each other? The only time they're able to utilise their skills to their full potential is when they're together, not apart.
I don't perceive to know Pullman's mind but I know he wasn't writing this series as a love story and yet he created one of the best literary pairings in the fictional universes. Then he became stumped and asked himself, 'Well what do I do with them now?' and he had no answers.
His Dark Materials isn't a fantasy novel. It's a tragedy.
I think the knife was made by humans and was made out of greed. It is the reason for all the spectres and stuff, that thing is trouble. And xaphia or Serafina said to them something along the lines of: you lose the alethiometer and the knife, you lose the daemons that change form, and you lose each other. Now is your time for something different, new, and your own. Learn to read the alethiometer the old fashion way, learn to be a "shaman" (more like be spiritual and understand the universe and it's barriers without piercing them but traveling through them). Things were different when you were children, now you're not. Find your ways even if they're hard. And maybe in the process get a life, enjoy, and.. maybe you'll find each other again, maybe not. And it is tragic, but it's also life.
And yes, Pullman chose death and wanted everyone to cry and suffer, that too
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Henry's still stepping on her toes, the way she used to, dancing with her father. They've got the T.V. on, but no one's really watching anymore. She thinks Mal might be making more hot cocoa.
It's not quite snowing yet outside, but hoarfrost's covering the window. She'd gotten extra gas for the generator just in case though. She'd learned her lesson the year that Henry turned two.
Regina's not sure where all of that time's gone, but she thinks that she's got a few more years left of playing Santa. At least she hopes she does, with how excited her son's gotten to open his toys, his frantic knocking on her door at five a.m.
They've got a couple days until it's Christmas, and cookies and coquito to make, but she lets Henry lead her around the room, mostly avoiding the furniture. Lily's hunched on the floor where the tree is, wearing ridiculous socks and stringing up popcorn and dried orange slices. Regina wonders if it will be the same next year. Her goddaughter will be in college by then, probably living in Boston. She knows that Mal's quietly worried.
But it's peaceful, even with the wind picking up. Rosemary Clooney's still singing. The smell of chocolate and mint's reached the living room, and she knows Henry will be too full to eat his dinner later, but she doesn't mind. He'll fall asleep on the couch after that, while Lily helps her roll out the cookie dough, and Mal wraps all the presents that they've hidden. He's almost too heavy to carry upstairs, but she'll keep doing it for now, while he still lets her.
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