0 Kommentare
0 Geteilt
1 Ansichten
0 Bewertungen
Verzeichnis
Discover new ideas, create new connections and make new friends
-
Bitte loggen Sie sich ein, um liken, teilen und zu kommentieren!
-
The Pale Bridge"Do you see it?" I shook my head, my fingers trembling against the cold, wet iron of the railing. The wind howled through the gaps in the planks, a sound like a thousand mourners crying out in unison, and I felt the familiar, crushing weight of the fog pressing against my chest, thick and suffocating as wool. "I see nothing but water, sir. And the reflection of the gaslights." "You are looking...0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 1 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen
-
The Golden QuestThe wind did not howl so much as it sanded, a granular abrasion that stripped the varnish from the world and reduced the landscape to a skeletal architecture of ash and bone, a condition that had settled over the Highlands of the North with the inevitability of a verdict long delayed but finally pronounced by a court of invisible judges who cared nothing for the pleas of the living. Captain...0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 1 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen
-
The Distant NightmareThe rain had been falling for three days, a relentless, gray curtain that turned the world outside the office window into a smudge of charcoal and wet slate. Inside, the air was stale, thick with the scent of old paper and the metallic tang of fear. I sat at my desk, my hands resting on the surface, trembling slightly. My left hand. That was the part that hurt. It was a dull, grinding ache,...0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 1 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen
-
The Golden VisitThe rain fell in steady, gray sheets against the high, arched windows of the keep, washing away the dust of centuries in slow, reluctant rivulets. Inside, the air was thick with the scent of damp stone and old iron, a smell that clung to the back of the throat and settled in the lungs. Commander Elias Thorne stood by the fireplace, his hands clasped behind his back, watching the flames die down...0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 1 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen
-
The Pale CircusThe lantern hung by the door. It was old brass. The glass was cracked. Inside, a wick burned. It smelled of tallow. It smelled of dust. It smelled of home. Elias stood in the alley. Rain slicked the cobblestones. The city of Aethelgard was vast. It was stone and shadow. It was cold. It was hungry. Elias was cold. He was hungry. He held a staff. The wood was ash. It was smooth. He had carried it...0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 1 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen
-
The Distant ThresholdThe letter lay on the table. It was black. Not the black of ink. Not the black of night. It was the black of a bruise that would never heal. Elias held it with trembling hands. He was twelve. His hands were small. They shook. The paper felt cold. It smelled of ash. Of old smoke. Of something burning far away. "Is it from him?" asked the boy. His name was Thomas. Thomas stood in the doorway. He...0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 1 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen
-
The Wistful IncenseThe bell rang. Not a chime, but a clang. Iron striking iron. It shook the dust from the beams of the vaulted hall. Elara Vance did not look up from the ledger. She turned a page. The ink was wet. It smelled of iron and vinegar. “Lady Vance.” The voice was thick. Oily. It belonged to Sir Julian Thorne. He stood in the doorway. His cloak was furred. The fur was white. It was not white. It was...0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 1 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen
-
The Wistful GridThe ink is brown, the color of dried blood or perhaps the earth after a long rain, and it smells of iron and decay. I am writing this from the cold stone floor of the cellar beneath the Abbey of St. Jude, where the air is so thick with damp that it tastes of rot. You will not read this until I am gone, for I have sealed the letter within a lead pipe, buried beneath the flagstone where the old...0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 1 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen
-
The Pale MistYou stand at the edge of the precipice where the stone floor ends and the abyss begins, the air thick with the scent of ozone and old blood, a heaviness that presses against your lungs like a physical weight. It is a place that should not exist, a hollow beneath the grand cathedral of the King’s Hall, yet here you are, a warden in the old guard, holding a sword that has not tasted flesh in a...0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 1 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen
English
Arabic
French
Spanish
Portuguese
Turkish
Dutch
Italiano
Russian
Romaian
Portuguese (Brazil)
Greek