The Golden Compass
The dream was always the same: a void of absolute, lightless black, and in the center, a golden compass spinning with a friction that sounded like screaming. Elias Thorne woke with the taste of copper in his mouth, the physical sensation of the needle’s vibration still humming in his teeth. He lay in the dark, staring at the ceiling where the plaster had cracked in a pattern that resembled a...
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