0 Comments
0 Shares
53 Views
0 Reviews
Directory
Discover new ideas, create new connections and make new friends
-
Please log in to like, share and comment!
-
The Faded RuinYou hold the brass seal in your palm. The metal is cold, worn smooth by the grip of a hundred hands before yours. It is not a weapon, but in the gilded halls of the Ministry, it is the only thing that matters. The impression it leaves on the wax is your identity. Without it, you are no one. With it, you are the law. The air in the antechamber is thick with the scent of beeswax and old paper....0 Comments 0 Shares 40 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden ScarThe mark is on your left shoulder. You have always known this. It is a golden scar, a streak of light that burns without heat. It pulses in time with your heartbeat. You are in the Hall of Records. The air is stale, thick with the dust of ten thousand lives. You are the Archivist. Your job is simple. You keep the order. You keep the silence. You do not ask questions. That is the rule. The rule...0 Comments 0 Shares 45 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden QuestThe rain did not fall so much as it hovered, a fine, gray mist that clung to the glass of the university library’s upper windows. Inside, the air smelled of old paper and the sharp, metallic tang of ozone from the overheating ventilation system. Julian sat at his desk, a small island of light in the vast, dim room. He was a man who believed in the architecture of silence. He thought that if one...0 Comments 0 Shares 49 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded SutraThe bell did not ring. It screamed. A sound like tearing metal ripped through the quiet of the Hall of Records. Margaret Holloway dropped her quill. Ink splattered across the parchment, a black star blooming on the white page. Outside, the sky was the color of a bruise. Purple and swollen. The air tasted of copper and ozone. She knew what it meant. The Veil was thinning. Margaret was the...0 Comments 0 Shares 48 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden MirrorI woke with the taste of iron in my mouth. The dream was gone. Only the sensation remained. Cold. Metallic. Sharp. I lay still. The floorboards creaked. Dust motes danced in the thin beam of light cutting through the window. I knew where I was. I knew who I was. Or so I thought. The village lay below the hill. Smoke rose from chimneys. Thin. Gray. It looked peaceful. It looked dead. I had...0 Comments 0 Shares 45 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant JokeThe dream began with the taste of iron and wet wool. Elias Vane stood in a corridor that stretched back into a darkness so absolute it seemed to have weight. He was wearing his dress uniform, the buttons polished to a mirror shine, yet his hands were stained with grime that no amount of scrubbing could remove. He knew he was asleep, or perhaps waking, for the boundary between the two states had...0 Comments 0 Shares 46 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Wistful IncenseThe scent is not smoke. It is memory, distilled and burning. You wake with it on your tongue, a metallic tang that tastes like old copper coins and dried lavender, the specific, cloying aroma of the chrysanthemums that lined the steps of the Senate building three days before the vote. You are in the House of Representatives, or perhaps it is a mirror of it, a place where the marble veins pulse...0 Comments 0 Shares 45 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant SummerThe feast is loud. It is a roar. You sit at the long oak table. The wood is old. It is stained with wine. It is stained with blood. You wear the armor. It is heavy. It is cold. The iron bites into your shoulders. You do not move. You do not breathe. They eat. They drink. They laugh. "You look tired, Thomas." The voice comes from the end. It is the Captain. He holds a cup of ale. The foam is...0 Comments 0 Shares 41 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant WhispersThe bell did not ring. It broke. A sound like a rib snapping under a boot. Then silence. You are standing in the nave. The air is thick with dust and the smell of wet stone. Your hands are shaking. You look down. You are holding the fragment. It is cold. It is jagged. It cuts your palm. The glass is shattered. Not just the bell. The windows. All of them. Light pours in. It is not sunlight. It...0 Comments 0 Shares 44 Views 0 Reviews
Arabic
French
Spanish
Portuguese
Deutsch
Turkish
Dutch
Italiano
Russian
Romaian
Portuguese (Brazil)
Greek