The Pale Dance
Chapter One The terraced hills of the interior valley rise in jagged steps, each level stitched with dry-stone walls that hold back the earth, and the air here is always thick with the haze of distant fires, a physical weight that settles on the skin and tastes of ash. In the shadow of the sealed king’s granary, the town of Caltagirone wakes not to the sun, but to the sound of church chairs...
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