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The Golden MirrorThe mirror was cracked. Not shattered. Just a single, jagged line running from the top left corner to the bottom right. It looked like a lightning strike frozen in silver. Thomas stood before it. He was twelve. His hands were slick with sweat. The air in the attic smelled of dust and old varnish. He looked at the glass. He saw his own face. It looked wrong. The eyes were too wide. The mouth was...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
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The Pale ExileThe iron gate of the Ashworth estate groaned under the weight of the autumn wind, a sound like a bone snapping in a quiet room. Margaret stood on the porch, her hands white-knuckled around the railing, watching the mist curl through the oak trees below. She was not a woman given to grand gestures, nor one who sought the dramatic. She was a clerk in the town’s registry office, a life of...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
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The Faded RuinThe rain fell hard on the slate roofs. It drummed a steady rhythm against the windowpane. I watched the water streak down the glass. It blurred the world outside. The world inside was cold. The hearth had gone out hours ago. I pulled my coat tighter. The wool was damp. It smelled of mildew and old smoke. My name is Arthur Vane. I am a keeper of the Gate. We are few in number. The city of...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
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The Golden EchoesThe banquet hall smelled of roasted lamb and wet wool, a thick, suffocating aroma that clung to the back of Sergeant Elias Thorne’s throat. He stood near the heavy oak table, his tunic stiff with sweat, watching the candlelight tremble against the stone walls. Outside, the rain lashed against the high windows of the fortress, a relentless drumming that seemed to echo the heartbeat of the men...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
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The Golden RitualThe brass clasp of the silver necklace bit into Eleanor’s collarbone, a cold, metallic bite that mirrored the chill of the air conditioning in the administrative office of the St. Jude’s Industrial Sanatorium. She stood before the glass partition, watching the floor below through the haze of steam that rose from the boiler rooms. The necklace, a heavy chain of interlocking ovals, had been her...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
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The Golden GreenhouseThe soot tastes like copper. You spit it out. It mixes with the grime on your lip. You are not dead. That is the first surprise. You are not a ghost. You are not a memory. You are a body. A heavy, wet, broken body in a field of crushed wheat. The machine is gone. It is just a hole in the air where it used to be. You look at your hand. The skin is black. The veins are purple lines under the...0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews
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The Wistful CipherThe air in the Blackwood Asylum for the Unstable Mind was thick with the scent of wet wool and burnt ozone, a heavy, suffocating perfume that clung to the back of the throat like a physical weight, and it was there, amidst the clatter of teacups and the low, droning hum of the ventilation shafts that had not been serviced since the war, that I first saw Elias, a man who seemed to be made less...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
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The Wistful Campus"You look tired, Sam." I did not look up from the file. My eyes burned. The fluorescent light hummed, a low, constant drone that seemed to vibrate in my teeth. "I am fine, Captain." "You are lying." I set the pen down. The click was loud in the silence. "I am not. I am simply working." "Working is not living." I looked at him. Major Halloway sat behind the heavy oak desk. He was older than me....0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews
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The Pale GardenYou dream of the roots. They are pale. They are white. They drink the dark earth. You are in the cellar. The air is cold. It smells of damp wool and old blood. You do not look up. You cannot look up. You count the roots. One. Two. Three. They pulse. They beat like a slow heart. You know what they are. You know who they belong to. The door opens. Light floods in. It is too bright. It hurts. You...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
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