Hey there! This is the first part of a continuation of Phillip Pullman's His Dark Materials trilogy. This takes place several years into the future when Lyra is 18 and Will is 19 years old. This is co-written between a friend and I- I am writing for Lyra, and he is writing for Will. Please review with any comments or suggestions! No hate please. :) Enjoy!

Part One

Gap Between Worlds

Lyra loathed the dress she wore. It was dark blue, encumbering, and far too low cut and tight for her purposes. But not for the purposes of Jordan College. She knew they scholars there wished her to find court and wed a man, and soon. They wanted to pull her out of her long days of voluntary solitude with her alethiometer and books, and into the high society she'd been born into.

"Pan?" Lyra called out. Where was he? Then she saw a white streak scurrying along not far from her. Pantalimon leapt towards her, and she caught him and held him close.

"I dunno why you chose to make a run for it wearing that, Pan said dolefully, nuzzling into her arm.

Lyra rolled her eyes. She crested the large hill that overshadowed the College. Lyra threw a glance over her shoulder down at the college grounds, from the garden she'd been reading in, to the gate that marked the edge of Jordan's property. It had been easy enough to scale, even with the stupid dress on. She had left her book, but brought her alethiometer in a small pouch at her waist, and a long dagger hidden in her bodice. At eighteen years of age, her hair was long and grew in unruly curls down her back. Her long legs were strong, and fit for walking... or running away, as she was doing now.

She entered a stand of trees, enjoying the cool breeze on her face, the pine needles crunching beneath her bare feet. She allowed Pan to jump from her arms to explore. After walking for several minutes, she suddenly heard a snap of a branch behind her. She stopped short, and whirled around. "Pan?" It wasn't Pan.

A man was following her. He was very tall and broad, with dark hair. He wore a mask. And held a bladed weapon. Lyra gasped, and then broke into a run away from him, fleeing into the trees. From the sounds of rapid footsteps behind her, she knew that he was chasing her. She fumbled at her bodice and pulled out her knife as she ran, nearing a cave in an outcropping at the base of a cliff. Just then the man dove for her, tackling her to the forest floor. Lyra screamed, and then gasped as she hit the ground hard, the breath knocked out of her lungs.

The man flipped her over and laid the blade of his weapon at her throat, but Lyra pushed it away as best she could, slicing her hand in the process. She cried out and slashed at the man's face with her knife. He roared in pain and drew back. Lyra scrambled out form under him, and staggered to her feet, attempting to run again. He was upon her again in a moment, catching her wrist and throwing her to the ground roughly. Lyra cried out again, but grabbed the man's ankle and yanked him off balance. He toppled to the ground, but managed to struggle to his knees, diving at Lyra with weapon raised, poised for a killing blow. Lyra screamed and lashed out with her knife. A bright spray of blood hit her square in the face. Her blade had found the man's neck. She'd slit his throat.

He choked, and then fell to his side, grasping at his neck, but to no avail. Lyra scrambled back, wide-eyed with fear. Finally the man fell still.

Pan appeared at the entrance of the cave, his white ermine body shaking. "Lyra," he said simply. "He didn't have a daemon."

Lyra swallowed hard, wiping blood from her face with her skirt. She'd killed a man. She wiped off her knife, and re-sheathed it with shaking hands.

Trembling, she stood up slowly, looking at his body. Then she heard something strange from deeper within the cave. She turned, puzzled. She'd heard that sound before, she thought. She took a step towards it. The back of the cave appeared blurred to her eyes.

"Pan, come here," she said. He came to her arms again. "Do you hear that?" Lyra asked.

She heard the passing of cars. But there were no cars in her Oxford.

Her Oxford.

Lyra swallowed hard, and then reached out her hands, blindly walking into the cave, but she found no back wall to it. Instead, the air changed slightly, and she saw light filtering in further ahead. She began walking faster towards it.

Suddenly she emerged to an exit to the cave. It opened to the edge of a wood overlooking a hill. Below were busy streets among blocks of buildings and parks of a town. She stared.

"Pan," she said breathlessly.

"This is impossible," Pan said. "This is... This is Will's Oxford."

Lyra held Pan close. "I am going to find him," she said determinedly. "I'm going to find Will."

"But-"

"Hush, Pan. I won't listen to you anyways." Lyra began making her way down the hill and towards the streets, finding herself on a busy sidewalk. She began to draw stares for her dress, and was thankful the material was dark so that the blood did not show so much.

As she passed a closed in park she realized was a cemetery, something caught her eye. A procession of people was making their way in to the cemetery. There were not many people gathered, but she was curious. She let herself through the gate and walked slowly down the cobbled pathways until she reached the gathering of people.

She stood back hesitantly, staring at one of the gathered. His back was turned to her, so she could not be certain. Was it Will? She shrank back, half behind a large statue of an angel, Pan clutched tightly in her arms.

Will couldn't bring himself to listen to the priest. The only thing he could do to keep from breaking out in tears was to stare at the ground. He was getting nervous about talking. Will knew he wasn't going to be able to make it through the whole speech. The priest's words suddenly became audible to him.

"Amen. Now, the belated's son would like to share a few words about his mother." Will snapped out of his trance, he looked up at the priest and had to force himself to move up there.

As he stepped onto the foot table, he looked out at the small group of people who were gathered here. He hardly recognized any of them. There was his piano teacher, a few school friends. The rest of the people were almost strangers to him. He finally gathered the courage to speak.

"My mother, as we all know, hadn't been well for a while. It was only a matter of time, but it still feels too soon. Even though her health was fading, she still gathered the strength to make sure I knew she loved me, each and every day. I wish I could have seen her face when I received my letter of acceptance to Oxford." Will paused. He knew he wasn't following his outline, but he could hardly see the letters.

He took a second to wipe his eyes, and scan the people again. As he passed over the last few people, he caught a glimpse of a girl at the back of the gathering, half hidden behind a statue of an angel. He tried to focus on her face, and suddenly his heart stopped. He recognized her.

I must be mad… he thought to himself. There is no way she could possibly be here...

He blinked, realizing he had frozen in the middle of his speech. He tried to speak again, but nothing came out.

"I… she... my mother... I miss her so much." He couldn't think of anything else to say, completely distracted. He looked over to the priest and then stepped down. Will went back to his spot, glimpsing over to the statue on his way.

The priest started to wrap up the ceremony. Will's attention was now torn. He tried to put that girl out of his head. His mother was more important right now. No matter who that other girl was.

He watched as his mother's casket was lowered into the ground.