The Golden Compass

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2026-08-17 03:28:16 -

The ink had not yet dried on the parchment when I realized that I had signed my own life away, a signature that looked less like my name and more like a jagged scar tearing through the skin of the page. It was a Tuesday, or perhaps a Wednesday; time had become a viscous, unreliable thing in the high tower of the Abbey of St. Jude, where the rain lashed against the leaded glass with the...

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