The Golden Compass
The coat was a heavy thing, woven from a wool so dense and dark it seemed to absorb the light of the small, windowless office where I sat, a garment that had once belonged to my brother, Elias, before the fever took the color from his cheeks and the fire from his eyes, and I remember how the fabric smelled of his cologne, a sharp, citrusy scent that had long since faded into the musty, damp...
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