The Golden Compass
The brass badge in your breast pocket has begun to feel less like a symbol of authority and more like a heavy, cold stone that presses against your ribs with every breath, a weight that seems to increase as the days in the ancient, fog-choked city of Oakhaven grow shorter and the shadows in the station’s corridors stretch longer. You are Elias Thorne, forty-two years old, a constable who has...
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