The Golden Compass
The road from the village of Oakhaven to the city of Ironbridge was not merely a path of dirt and gravel but a physical manifestation of the debt that bound Thomas Ashworth to the world. He walked it with the heavy, rhythmic gait of a man whose muscles had been calibrated by years of labor in the mill, his boots striking the uneven stones with a dull, percussive finality. The air was thin and...
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