The Golden Compass
The grey commuter train groaned into the station at six in the morning, a metallic shriek that seemed to scrape against the damp, cold air of the early November day, and Elias Thorne stepped aboard with the heavy, deliberate cadence of a man who had spent twenty years learning to move through the world without disturbing it. He was forty-two, a municipal archivist for the City of Ashworth, a...
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