The Golden Compass
The door closed behind Clara with a soft, final click. It was a sound she had learned to dread. The hall was dim. The air smelled of dust and old paper. She stood still. Her hands were shaking. Not from cold. From the weight of what she left behind. The house was large. It swallowed light. It swallowed sound. It was a machine of brick and stone designed to keep secrets safe. Clara moved through...
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