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The Faded MasqueradeThe air in the Aethelgard Institute for the Restoration of Order smelled of wet limestone and old dust, a scent that clung to the back of the throat like a persistent, metallic cough. Elias Thorne stood in the center of the Grand Archive, his fingers hovering over a ledger bound in cracked leather, the surface of the page slick with the humidity that seeped through the ancient walls of the...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Golden CellarThe rain lashed against the high, leaded windows of the Hall, a rhythmic drumming that sounded like the beating of a thousand small, frantic hearts. I stood by the cold hearth, my hands trembling so violently that I could not light the candle. The wax had melted into a pale, sticky pool, a tomb for the wick. Outside, the world was dissolving into mist and grey stone, but inside, the air was...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Pale ProtocolThe tablet is cracked. You know this because you are holding it, and the sharp edge bites into the thenar eminence of your left hand, a dull, persistent ache that has become part of your pulse. It is a ceramic plate, white glaze, meant for serving soup. It is broken into three distinct pieces, the fracture lines jagged and final. You are sitting at a stainless steel table in a break room that...0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews
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The Golden CircuitThe house breathes. You hear it. The floorboards creak. The beams groan. It is alive. You stand in the center of the hall. The dust motes dance. They are golden. They are thick. The air smells of decay. It smells of gold. You hold the circuit. It is a golden circuit. It is heavy. It is warm. It is a relic. You are a merchant. You deal in things. You deal in life. You are poor. You are hungry....0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Wistful AshesThe air in the Atrium of Silence tasted of ozone and stale copper. It was a flavor Elara had known since childhood, a taste that sat heavy on the tongue, masking the underlying sweetness of the soil that had long since died. She stood before the Conclave, her posture rigid, her hands clasped behind her back. The floor was polished obsidian, reflecting the pale, sickly glow of the bioluminescent...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Distant TempleThe dream was always the same, a recurring fever in the mind of Elias Thorne. He stood in a field of white lilies so vast and dense it swallowed the horizon, the petals trembling in a wind that did not exist in the waking world. The scent was cloying, sweet, and rotten all at once, a perfume of decay masked by purity. In the dream, his mother’s hand rested on his shoulder, heavy and cold,...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Wistful DinnerThe cellar was cold. It smelled of damp stone and old iron. Thomas stood in the center of the room, his hand resting on the hilt of a sword that was not there. He felt the weight of it. He felt the steel against his palm. He was the keeper of this place. The walls were black. The floor was slick. He had been here for forty years. Or perhaps it was only a day. Time did not move here. It pooled...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Pale Dance"You’re going to break it again, aren’t you?" The voice did not come from the air. It did not come from the shadows pooling in the corners of the white room. It came from the reflection in the mirror that stretched the entire length of the east wall, a pane of glass so clear it seemed less like a surface and more like a window into a void. I looked at my hands. They were small, pale, and...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Golden GreenhouseThe rain did not fall so much as it was exhaled by the sky, a heavy, gray sigh that settled into the cobblestones of the university courtyard with the weight of centuries, washing the dust from the gargoyles and the pride from the spines of the faculty members who huddled beneath the porticoes of the Hall of Eternal Verity. I walked with my boots soaking through, the leather stiff and cold...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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