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The Pale TowerThe bread was warm. It sat on the stone slab, a perfect golden dome, smelling of yeast and the damp earth we had turned over in the garden that morning. I cut a slice with the heavy iron knife my father had given me before he left for the capital. The crust cracked with a sound like a dry twig snapping underfoot. I held the slice up to the window. The light filtered through the dust motes...0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews
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The Faded PhotographThe door to the cellar was heavy, oiled with years of neglect, and it did not so much open as surrender, groaning in a long, low exhalation that seemed to pull the air out of the room with it. I stood on the top step, my hand trembling against the cold iron of the railing, watching the darkness below settle into a shape that was not quite a room but a mouth, waiting. Elias was standing at the...0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews
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The Wistful AshesThe rain fell upon the grey slate of the roof with a rhythmic, persistent insistence that sounded less like weather and more like the ticking of a massive, indifferent clock, washing the dust from the eaves of the house that stood isolated on the hillside, a solitary beacon of white stone in the sprawling, industrial haze of the valley below where the smokestacks of the textile mills exhaled...0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews
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The Faded QuadrantThe moss was green. Not the vibrant, wet green of spring, but a thick, velvet grey-green that swallowed the light. It grew over the stones of the courtyard. It grew over the iron gates. It grew over my hands as I knelt there, scraping at the earth with a rusted trowel. I was a detective of decay. That was my title in the court of Lord Ashworth. Not a knight. Not a squire. A finder. A seeker of...0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews
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The Pale PathThe coffee in the mug is cold, a dark, bitter sludge that sits in the center of the steel table like a stagnant pool in a dead lake, and you stare at it, not because you are thirsty, but because the reflection of your own face in the liquid is the only thing in this windowless, concrete room that does not look back at you with accusation, a face that is half-hidden in shadow and half-lit by the...0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews
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The Pale TowerThe banquet hall smelled of roasted boar and wet wool, a thick, cloying sweetness that clung to the back of my throat like a secret too heavy to swallow. We were seated in a circle, the light from the torches dancing in the polished stone, casting long, trembling shadows that seemed to writhe against the walls of the keep. I sat at the hand of Lord Alistair, my armor stripped down to the maille...0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews
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The Faded DustHe woke with the taste of iron on his tongue. It was a heavy, rusted flavor. It coated the back of his throat. He spat into his cupped hand. The saliva was dark. A thin, red thread. He wiped it on his trousers. The fabric was coarse wool. It smelled of sweat and coal dust. He was lying in a narrow bed. The walls were stone. They were damp. Water trickled down the corner. It dripped onto the...0 Comments 0 Shares 4 Views 0 Reviews
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The Distant LegendThe glass shattered. Not with a crash, but with a sigh. It burst into a thousand jagged teeth of light, scattering across the floorboards of the grand hall. Silence followed. Then the screaming started. Captain Elias Thorne stood in the center of the ruin. His hand was still raised. The pistol in his grip was warm. The muzzle smoke curled like a ghost, thin and grey, dissipating into the stale...0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews
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The Distant TempleThe ferns in the breakroom did not grow. They were printed on a vinyl wall mural, a static green scream behind the coffee machine. Elias Vance, Senior Compliance Officer, adjusted his tie. The knot was too tight. It pressed against the Adam’s apple like a noose made of silk. He looked at the mural. The fronds were perfect. Symmetrical. Dead. "Morning, Elias," said Sarah. She was pouring oat...0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews
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