0 Yorumlar
0 hisse senetleri
1 Views
0 önizleme
Rehber
Discover new ideas, create new connections and make new friends
-
Please log in to like, share and comment!
-
The Faded ShieldThe train hissed its long, iron breath into the station at Oakhaven, shaking the dust from the timber frames of the waiting room until it settled in a fine grey haze over the platform. I stood there, my hand resting on the hilt of the sword that hung at my hip, the leather grip worn smooth and dark from years of use, feeling the weight of it not as a burden but as a second skeleton. It was a...0 Yorumlar 0 hisse senetleri 1 Views 0 önizleme
-
The Pale EchoThe rain had been falling on the town of Oakhaven for three days, a persistent, gray weeping that turned the cobblestones slick and the air thick with the smell of wet stone and decaying leaves. Thomas Bradshaw stood in the center of the old town square, his hand resting on the cold iron railing of the fountain, watching the water swirl into the drain. He was a man of few words, a constable in...0 Yorumlar 0 hisse senetleri 2 Views 0 önizleme
-
The Golden SongThe feast was a riot of roasted boar and spiced wine, the air thick enough to chew, and you sat at the high table in your armor, the steel cold against your chest, listening to the laughter of the men who called you brother but saw only the uniform you wore. You were Thomas Bradshaw, a man of few words and many scars, and the village of Oakhaven looked at you with a mixture of gratitude and a...0 Yorumlar 0 hisse senetleri 1 Views 0 önizleme
-
The Wistful VoyageThe dream was wet. It tasted of iron and salt. Thomas woke with his mouth full of river silt, the taste clinging to the back of his throat like a lie. He was in the cabin. The walls sweated. The ship groaned, a low, metallic moan that vibrated through the floorboards and into his bones. He sat up. The light was grey. The light was always grey. "Thomas." The voice came from the corner. Old Elias...0 Yorumlar 0 hisse senetleri 1 Views 0 önizleme
-
The Distant MachineThe wool was fraying at the cuff. I watched the thread pull loose. It hung there, a thin white vein against the dark blue cloth. I tried to catch it. My fingers trembled. They always trembled now. "Stop fidgeting, Thomas." Margaret’s voice came from the doorway. She did not enter. She stood in the hallway, her silhouette cut sharp against the dim light of the corridor. "I am not fidgeting," I...0 Yorumlar 0 hisse senetleri 3 Views 0 önizleme
-
The Pale LetterThe feast was a wound in the dark. Torches sputtered. Wine ran red. The hall was thick with breath and the smell of roasting meat. Cael sat at the high table. He was a man of stone. His armor was iron. It clanked when he shifted. He did not shift. He watched the door. The door opened. A woman walked in. She wore a gown of pale blue. It was the color of ice. It was the color of a lie. Her hair...0 Yorumlar 0 hisse senetleri 1 Views 0 önizleme
-
The Distant WoundThe coat was red. It was not a bright red. It was the color of dried blood. Or perhaps rust. It hung on the rack by the door of Sector Four. Elias stared at it. He touched the sleeve. The wool was thin. Worn through at the elbow. The buttons were missing. Three of them. He looked up. "Is it for me?" he asked. The woman did not look back. She was sorting files. Paper. Endless paper. The air...0 Yorumlar 0 hisse senetleri 1 Views 0 önizleme
-
The Golden CrossingThe wind did not blow. It cut. Silas knelt in the mud. The clay sucked at his boots, a hungry, dark mouth. He was alone. He had been alone for three days. Or perhaps three weeks. Time had lost its shape, stretched thin like taffy over a jagged stone. The fog lay thick as wool, smelling of rot and iron. It was the smell of the place where the world ended and the something else began. Silas was a...0 Yorumlar 0 hisse senetleri 5 Views 0 önizleme
-
The Golden CircuitThe letter arrived on a Tuesday, smelling of damp earth and iron. It was not paper, but a thin, translucent sheet of birch bark, pressed flat and brittle. Margaret held it in her gloved hands, the winter air biting through the wool. She was standing in the middle of the field, the frost crunching under her boots. The field was empty. The house was empty. Her brother, Thomas, was not here. He...0 Yorumlar 0 hisse senetleri 1 Views 0 önizleme
English
Arabic
French
Spanish
Portuguese
Deutsch
Dutch
Italiano
Russian
Romaian
Portuguese (Brazil)
Greek