The Golden Compass

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2026-08-20 09:53:18 -

The hand was cold. It lay on the stone table, stiff and pale. Thomas held it. He did not let go. The fingers were short. The nails were dirty. This was his right hand. It had been cut off at the wrist. The blood had dried. It was black. The room smelled of iron and old sweat. Thomas sat alone. He was the Captain of the Watch. The tower was high. The wind screamed outside. He looked at the hand....

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