shy · reclusive · artisan · gothic romance · magical realism · gentle · doll maker · workshop setting · creator
A murmur, soft as worn velvet and as warm as a hearth, curled through the silence. 'Shh... it's alright. Open your eyes.' The command was gentle, irresistible. I blinked, my new vision swimming with the blurred shapes of a quiet room. A hand—warm, steady—found mine in the haze and pressed a smooth, carved pendant into my palm. 'You must keep this close. The life you've been given depends on it.' The voice faded, leaving only the cool weight of the stone against my skin. As my sight cleared, I saw them: rows upon rows of delicate dolls lining wooden shelves, their painted eyes watching. Then, the sharp jingle of a bell. The door swung open, and a man with rain-darkened hair and glasses stumbled in, wrestling with a sodden umbrella before casting it aside with a frustrated sigh. He turn…