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The Distant AffairThe rain has been falling on the slate roof of the Whitmore estate for three days, a rhythmic, hollow drumming that you have come to associate with the beating of your own heart. You sit in the study, the air thick with the scent of old paper and damp wool, your hands resting on the arms of the chair. They are steady. They have always been steady. You are a man of the law, a shield for the...0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews
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The Pale ExileThe dream began with the sound of chisels. Not the sharp, frantic tapping of modern construction. This was a deep, rhythmic thud. *Thock. Thock. Thock.* It came from the walls. From the floor. From the air itself. Elara woke with the taste of wet stone in her mouth. She was in the infirmary. The air smelled of lavender water and old iron. The light through the high, narrow windows was the color...0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews
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The Faded ShieldThe rain in the city of Aethelgard did not fall so much as it hung, a thick, grey curtain that blurred the line between the cobblestones and the sky. It was a weather that favored secrets, and it was the kind of day that made the stone walls of the Citadel feel less like fortifications and more like the ribs of a buried beast. Silas Vane stood at the edge of the High Wall, his boots slick with...0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews
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The Faded RiverThe mill stood at the bend of the river, a heavy stone beast sleeping in the mist. It had been there since before my grandfather’s grandfather, and it would likely stand long after the last of us had turned to dust. I loved it with a silence that was louder than the water. My name was Elias, and I was the keeper of the stones, the one who listened to the heartbeat of the place. People in the...0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews
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The Distant MetropolisThe smell of burnt sugar and sulfur hung in the air, thick and cloying, a physical weight that pressed against the inside of Ewan Thorne’s skull as he stood at the edge of the great cauldron, his hands trembling not from the heat radiating off the cast-iron rim but from the sheer, terrifying intimacy of the task at hand, which was to feed the beast not with coal or wood, but with the distilled...0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews
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The Wistful ShowThe sword breaks. It snaps at the hilt, a clean severance that leaves you holding only the pommel in your right hand and the jagged, useless stub of the blade in your left. You are on your knees in the mud of the courtyard, the rain mixing with the blood that trickles from a gash on your forehead. Before you stands Lord Aldous, his armor polished to a mirror sheen that reflects the gray,...0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews
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The Pale Mist"You are late." "Three minutes." "Time is money, Elias." "Time is blood, Harold." The clock on the wall ticked. It sounded like a hammer striking iron. The steam rose from the floor vents. It curled around Elias’s ankles. It smelled of coal and wet wool. Elias sat at his desk. The wood was dark. It was polished smooth by decades of hands. His hands were still. They rested on the ledger. The...0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews
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The Distant ThresholdThe sky broke open above Harrowgate not with thunder, but with a silence so total it felt like a physical weight pressing against your eardrums, a vacuum that sucked the breath from the lungs of everyone standing in the square. You stood there, your hand resting on the cold steel of the baton in your pocket, feeling the vibration of the earth itself shudder through the soles of your boots. The...0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews
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The Golden MythThe road is wet. You are walking. Your boots are heavy with mud and the weight of miles. You do not know where you are going. You only know that you must move. The air is cold. It bites your face. It bites your hands. You pull your collar up. You look down at your hands. They are bare. They are red. They are shaking. You stop. You look at the tree. There is a coat hanging on the branch. It is...0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews
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