0 Comments
0 Shares
0 Views
0 Reviews
Directory
Discover new ideas, create new connections and make new friends
-
Please log in to like, share and comment!
-
The Golden OathThe ink is still wet. It smells of iron and rain. You press your thumb against the parchment, leaving a dark smear, a fingerprint of intent. The room is cold. The stone walls weep condensation. You are not alone, but you are. There is a difference. You know it. "Read it again," says Elias. He stands by the window, his back to you. His uniform is crisp, too white for this damp cellar. He is your...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant ThresholdThe rain did not fall so much as it insisted, a cold, relentless finger pressing against the single pane of glass that separated the world from the cellar, a place where the dampness had grown teeth and gnawed at the very foundations of my sanity until I could no longer distinguish the sound of the water outside from the rhythm of my own failing heart. I was here, in this forgotten space...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant LegendThe rain in Manchester did not fall so much as it hung in the air, a wet, grey curtain that blurred the boundary between the cobblestones and the sky. I walked through it with my coat collar turned up, the dampness seeping into the bones, a cold that felt less like weather and more like a memory I had not yet chosen to forget. I was a man of duty, a man who had spent the better part of a decade...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale EchoThe rain had not stopped for three days, a persistent, gray sheet that turned the mud of the valley floor into a sucking, brown paste that held the boots of any traveler with a jealous, unyielding grip, so that when I stepped back onto the porch of the old stone lodge, shaking the water from my sleeves, I felt less like a man returning home and more like a piece of driftwood washed up on a...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale BannerThe rain had not stopped for three days, a relentless, cold sheet that turned the cobblestones of the outer ward into a slick, black mirror reflecting the dim, flickering oil lamps of the night watchmen. Elias Thorne stood by the heavy oak door, his back to the corridor, his hands resting on the hilt of a sword that had seen better decades, its leather wrap worn through to the raw, grey leather...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale TowerThe banquet hall of the Citadel of Aethelgard was not a place built for comfort, but for the display of power, its vaulted ceiling disappearing into a darkness that seemed to breathe with a faint, oily mist. Candles the size of a man’s forearm burned in iron sconces, casting long, trembling shadows that danced across the tapestries depicting the wars of old kings. The air smelled of roasted...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant PromiseThe blackbirds were the first thing I noticed. They did not sing. They stood on the high branches of the elms, their heads swiveling with a mechanical, jerking precision, watching the house as if it were a predator and they were the prey. I sat in the kitchen, the table covered in blueprints and soil-stained maps, my hands trembling not from cold but from a fever that had settled into my bones...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale VerdictThe ink bled into the grain of the oak. It was a dark, wet stain that refused to dry. Elias Thorne sat at his desk, the wood cold against his palms. He had been writing for three days. The words were precise. They were legal. They were true. They were also a cage. The air in the office was still. The clock on the wall ticked with a mechanical indifference that felt like a judgment. Elias wiped...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Wistful SilenceThe air in the sector tasted of ozone and burnt copper, a metallic tang that coated the back of Sergeant Elias Thorne’s throat and settled deep in his lungs, a taste that was not unlike the iron-rich soil of the farm he had left behind three months ago, a memory that felt simultaneously like a dream and a physical wound. He stood knee-deep in the shifting, viscous mud of the Perimeter, a...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
Arabic
French
Spanish
Portuguese
Deutsch
Turkish
Dutch
Italiano
Russian
Romaian
Portuguese (Brazil)
Greek