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The Wistful AsylumThe rain did not fall so much as it hung, a suspended grey curtain that turned the stone walls of the Citadel into weeping ghosts, and I stood at the center of the courtyard, holding the weight of my command in the hollows of my hands, feeling the damp seep through the wool of my tunic and into the marrow of my bones, where it settled like a cold, ancient stone. We were the Order of the Silent...0 Commentarii 0 Distribuiri 5 Views 0 previzualizare
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The Faded PhotographThe air in the Great Hall smelled of damp wool and old candle wax. You were kneeling on the cold stone floor, your knees aching, while Master Aldous stood before you, his shadow stretching long and thin against the whitewashed walls. The window above the door let in a square of grey afternoon light, illuminating the dust motes that danced in the stagnant air. You did not look up. You were...0 Commentarii 0 Distribuiri 6 Views 0 previzualizare
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The Wistful AtlasThe banquet hall smelled of damp wool and roasted pheasant, a thick, cloying scent that settled into the pores of my skin like a second layer of grime. I sat at the head of the table, the chair cold against my back, staring at the plate before me. It was a masterpiece of culinary architecture, a tower of glazed meat and crystallized sugar that shimmered under the chandelier’s harsh, electric...0 Commentarii 0 Distribuiri 9 Views 0 previzualizare
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The Wistful AshesThe dinner party was loud. It was too loud. The crystal clinked like breaking teeth. The laughter was sharp. It cut the air. Elias sat at the head of the table. He was a man of hands. His hands were rough. They were thick. They were stained with ink and grease. He was a clockmaker. He fixed time. He made it move. He made it tick. He looked at his son. Julian sat across from him. Julian was...0 Commentarii 0 Distribuiri 4 Views 0 previzualizare
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The Faded ApartmentThe wind did not howl across the high moor of Kaelthos; it screamed, a sound that seemed to tear at the very fabric of the air, stripping the warmth from the stone and the flesh alike. Elias Thorne stood at the edge of the precipice, his fingers white-knuckled around the hilt of a sword that had not tasted blood in forty years, his eyes fixed on the swirling vortex of grey mist that churned in...0 Commentarii 0 Distribuiri 7 Views 0 previzualizare
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The Pale GardenThe smell of the hospital was not sterile, as the brochures claimed, but thickly compounded of antiseptic, decayed lilies, and the metallic tang of old blood that seemed to seep up through the linoleum floor. Elias Thorne stood in the center of the hallway of St. Jude’s Memorial, a place that had swallowed the last forty years of his life, and watched the double doors swing shut with a soft,...0 Commentarii 0 Distribuiri 8 Views 0 previzualizare
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The Faded RiverThe house stood in the fog. It was a structure of stone and silence. A cathedral of brick. The ivy had died. The walls wept dampness. Arthur Penhaligon sat at the desk. He was old. His hands were maps of veins. Blue lines under pale skin. He held a pen. The ink was black. It smelled of iron. He had been here for three days. He had come to catalog. To list. To fix the past in paper. The...0 Commentarii 0 Distribuiri 9 Views 0 previzualizare
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The Faded MasqueradeThe cake sat in the center of the table. It was a simple sponge, yellow and dry, covered in a thin layer of white icing that had begun to crack. I cut it. The knife slipped. A piece broke off. It fell to the floor with a soft, dull thud. I am a soldier. I used to be. Now I am a man who lives in a house that is too big for one person. The walls are white. The floors are oak. Everything is clean....0 Commentarii 0 Distribuiri 9 Views 0 previzualizare
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The Wistful SagaThe hand is gone. It sits on the table. A relic. A bone. White. Clean. It does not move. It does not tremble. It is not the hand of the King. The court is loud. They shout. They scream. They point. They want blood. They want the head. They want the truth to bleed out on the stone floor. Margaret stands in the center. She is old. Her back is bent. Her eyes are sharp. She looks at the hand. She...0 Commentarii 0 Distribuiri 8 Views 0 previzualizare
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