The Golden Compass

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2026-08-23 13:35:07 -

The correction slip sat on the mahogany desk, a thin rectangle of cream paper that weighed less than a penny but felt heavier than the ledger it was meant to amend. Elias read the entry for the third time, his finger tracing the ink until the nib had worn a groove in the skin. "Thomas Ashworth, Deceased, 14th of March." The date was wrong. His father was alive. He was in the next room, coughing...

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