The Golden Compass
The error was not in the stone, but in the ink, and Professor Elias Thorne found it only when the frost had already claimed the glass of his study window in the winter of 1924. He sat hunched over the monograph, *The Imperial Edicts of Trajan*, the leather binding worn smooth by two decades of handling, and his finger traced the line of Latin that had secured his tenure, his reputation, and the...
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