The Golden Compass
The bioluminescent fern in Julian Vane’s private greenhouse did not merely glow; it pulsed, a slow, rhythmic throb of cyan light that matched the erratic flutter of his own heart, a biological metronome counting down the seconds of a life he was desperate to steal back from the grave. Julian, twenty-four years old and possessing a charm that usually smoothed over his professional transgressions...
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