The Golden Compass
The frost did not arrive with the usual gradual surrender of the season. It came in a single, violent exhalation from the north, a wall of white silence that swallowed the valley whole and turned the iron railings of the observatory into skeletal fingers clawing at the sky. Dr. Elias Thorne stood at the edge of the cliff, his breath hanging in the air like a ghost that refused to dissipate, and...
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