The Golden Compass

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2026-08-20 13:47:07 -

The cart came to a halt at the edge of the ash fields. I stepped down. The mud sucked at my boots, cold and heavy, like a hand trying to pull me back into the earth. I did not look up. I looked only at the crates. Three of them. Oak. Reinforced with iron bands that had rusted brown in the damp air. They smelled of ozone and old blood. My name is Silas Thorne. I am a merchant of strange things....

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