The Golden Compass
The frost had crept across the glass panes of the high chamber like a vein of ice spreading through a body, turning the morning light into a fractured, diamond-dust haze that settled on the shoulders of the men who stood in the circle. Elias Thorne, the Keeper of Records, stood at the center of this cold geometry, his breath pluming in the air, thin and white, a ghost escaping his lungs before...
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