The Pale Dance

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2026-08-18 01:41:04 -

The Pale Dance

You are the Keeper of the Glassworks. This is not a title you chose. It is a weight that settled on your shoulders the night your father stopped breathing, leaving behind a shop that smelled of hot sand and the metallic tang of molten breath. The shop is a cathedral of soot, perched on the edge of the river town, where the fog rolls in thick as wool. You do not sell glass. You make it. You pull...

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