The Golden Compass

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2026-08-19 05:20:46 -

The rain had been falling for three days, a persistent, grey sheet that turned the cobblestones of the old quarter into a slick, mirroring mess, and as the carriage door slammed shut behind her, cutting off the last sliver of the warm, dust-moted light of the workshop, Margaret felt the sudden, sharp absence of her own hands. She had left them there, on the workbench, wrapped in oilcloth, the...

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