I do not own anything to do with HDM, Philip Pullman does.
Will stood in his room and drained the last of his coffee from the mug by his bed. He glanced out the window at the slowly setting sun and considered how he had got to where he was now. After parting from Lyra two years ago he had never again been happy, he thought of her always, her voice, her laugh, her lips, her eyes. After his mother died a few months later he could no longer bear it. He had lost everyone he had ever loved and was left alone with his daemon Kirjava and Mary for company. He had dreamed of Lyra every night after that, she haunted his dreams, always just out of reach, never with him and always crying.
Those dreams had pushed him too far, he had to see her again, at first he had no idea how to. Iorek had the skill to repair the knife, but he was a world away, so with Mary's reluctant help Will had made what he now had strapped to his right hand.
It was a glove, made of loose black leather, with inlaid circuitry inlaid across its surface and thick wires running from the fingertips, across his arm and into the pack strapped to his back, within the grey metallic box was Mary's machine. Will had seen it before it was finished, it held the broken pieces of the Subtle Knife in a curricular chamber. Will didn't know exactly how it worked, but it used the knife's powers to punch through reality, rather than cut as the knife had. It no longer opened to the abyss, so Mary had told him. That meant no Dust loss and no spectres
He trusted her judgement and he was about to use it at last.
He turned the dial on the wrist of the glove and punched forward with his fist.
There was a loud thump, and the room seemed to blur as a hole opened where his fist had punched. Not the clean hole made by the knife but a swirling vortex of blue and white. There was no point delaying it any longer Will thought. He leapt through the hole.
As he did one name was in his mind 'Lyra'.
Please R&R and I might write some more chapters if I feel like it.