The Golden Compass
The ledger was wrong, and you knew it before the ink had even dried on the page. It was the autumn of 1904, and the air in the St. Jude’s Municipal Library tasted of dust and old paper, a dry, suffocating scent that clung to your throat. You, Clara Vane, twenty-two years old and a junior archivist, stood before the acquisition records, your fingers trembling not from cold but from the weight of...
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