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21/12/2005
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The Two-Way Mirror - Variant 1: The Brass Visage (Victorian Gothic)The Two-Way Mirror - Variant 1: The Brass Visage Style: Victorian Gothic The Brass Visage VARIANT 1: VICTORIAN GOTHIC Style: Emily Brontë + Oscar Wilde Setting: 1847, Yorkshire Moors and London ACT I The brass telescope sat on the shelf like an accusation. I found it in the sealed library wing of Morane Hall, that decaying manor perched on the Yorkshire moors where the wind never stops and the...0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 1 Ansichten 0 BewertungenBitte loggen Sie sich ein, um liken, teilen und zu kommentieren!
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The Lone SentinelThe rain in Neo-Noir City didn't just fall; it judged. It washed the grime of the lower levels into the gutters, but it could never touch the filth of the spires. Jack Sterling was a man who lived in the gutters. A former Special Ops commander with a dishonorable discharge and a liver that was failing faster than the city's power grid, he spent his nights drinking synthetic rye and remembering...0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 0 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen
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The Nodes Between Jackson and WashingtonEvery connection creates a network, and every network has nodes that matter more than others. Beauregard Beaumont the Fourth was a node in a network he did not understand, connected to people and places and histories that stretched back a hundred years and would stretch forward for a hundred more, and the tragedy of his life was not that he was insignificant but that he spent forty-eight years...0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 1 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen
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THE SIGNAL FROM LILY BRENNANThe office was on State Street, third floor of a building that smelled of boiled cabbage and old plumbing and the faint, sweet-sour smell of whiskey that seeped up from the bar downstairs. It was a small office—just a desk, a chair, a filing cabinet that stuck when you pulled the second drawer, and a window that looked out over a brick wall so close I could touch it if I leaned far enough out...0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 2 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen
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The Pariah's GiftThe town of Oakhaven did not welcome strangers, and it tolerated Silas Thorne only because it had no other choice. Oakhaven was a place of red clay and rotting porches, a town where the humidity felt like a wet blanket and the history was a collection of grudges passed down through generations. Silas lived in the "Hollow House," a decaying Victorian manor that sat on the edge of the swamp, its...0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 2 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen
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The Ghost MemoryThe chip was warm when Margot Fielding put it on my desk. Not body-warm—machine warm, like it had been sitting in a pocket next to something that ran hot. I didn't ask about that. In New Carthage, you learn not to ask about the things that are warm when they shouldn't be. I was Elias Grant, forty-five years old, former homicide detective, current private eye, and the proud owner of a left eye...0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 2 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen
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The Patient from BelowDr. Evelyn Blackwood had been treating soldiers for fourteen months when she began to suspect that the war was happening inside their heads. The facility was a converted country estate outside New Carthage, all white corridors and padded rooms and the faint smell of carbolic and iodine. It housed the military's most difficult cases: men and women who had been brought back from the front lines...0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 2 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen
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The Weight of a MemoryThe city of Aethelgard was a miracle of glass and gravity, a cluster of ivory spires floating amidst a sea of eternal clouds. It was a place of absolute peace, where the citizens lived in a state of perpetual grace, their lives governed by the harmony of the spheres. Julian was the last of the High Archivists, a man whose duty was to maintain the Memory Well—a shimmering pool of liquid light...0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 2 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen
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ACT IDr. Julian Frost found his own biography in a Taiping archival document, written in 1854—twenty years before he was born. The discovery happened on a Tuesday, in the imperial archives of Tianjing, where Julian had spent the last three months cataloging rebel propaganda and religious texts for his forthcoming Oxford publication. He was thirty-two, a man of meticulous habits and rational...0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 9 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen
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Sample V-03: The Accidental King(Act I: The Spark) The mud of the Danube valley had a way of erasing a man's identity. Julian was a clerk of the third grade, a man whose greatest ambition was a quiet desk and a warm tea. But the war had a cruel sense of humor. When the Great Warlord Kaelen was assassinated by his own guard, the chaotic retreat left Julian as the only surviving officer of the royal escort. By a fluke of...0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 9 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen
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The Patent of ShadowsElias lived in a world of blueprints and solder. His family's legacy, a century-old precision engineering firm, was a dying beast, gasping for air in an era of mass-produced plastic and planned obsolescence. He spent his nights in the workshop, the air thick with the smell of ozone and machine oil, trying to build something that would make the world stop and look. He called it the "Sovereign...0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 862 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen
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The Black Vessel of MayfairThe fog rolled off the Thames like a living thing, thick and yellow as old wool, swallowing the gas lamps whole. Edward Harrington stood beneath the flickering sign of the White Hart Club, his collar turned up against the November chill, and watched the carriages clatter past on cobblestones slick with rain and horse dung. He had been waiting forty minutes. He would have waited longer, but the...0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 9 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen
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