The Faded Masquerade
Chapter One Parvin Hosseini counted the bottles in the crate, fifty-eight in total, each one a small, dark eye staring up at the ceiling of the workshop. The humidity in the caravanserai was a physical weight, a damp cloth pressed against the skin, ruining the film of sweat on his brow before it could even form. He was forty years old, a master glassblower, and he was trying to finish a...
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