The Golden Compass
The iron in your sword sings a low, sustained note as it bites into the wood of the barricade, a sound that vibrates through the hilt and into the marrow of your wrists. You are not afraid. You have learned to strip fear from the equation, to reduce the chaos of the skirmish to a series of technical adjustments: the angle of the blade, the weight of the shield, the precise millisecond in which...
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