The Dollmaker / Season 1, Episode 6
Barbora's Unseen Gaze
Mira’s gloved fingers hovered over the porcelain cheek of the doll named Barbora, the air in the restoration room heavy with the scent of linseed oil and the faint, acrid tang of solvent. A single bulb hung above the workbench, casting a harsh pool of light over the doll’s face—too smooth, too pale, the blue of her painted eyes catching a glint that made Mira’s pulse stutter. She adjusted the magnifying visor strapped to her forehead, the plastic band digging into her skin, and leaned closer. The crack she’d been filling along Barbora’s jawline was gone. Not mended—gone. As if the porcelain had knit itself back together while she’d stepped away for coffee ten minutes ago. Her breath caught, fogging the inside of her mask for a split second before she forced it out slow. She reached for the dental pick on the tray beside her, the metal cold through her nitrile glove, and traced the spot where the fracture had been. Nothing. Just the faint sheen of her earlier epoxy work, barely visible under the light. Her stomach twisted, a slow churn that had nothing to do with the black coffee she’d gulped down at 2 a.m. The palace was silent around her, the kind of silence that pressed against your eardrums, broken only by the occasional groan of...