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 RitualThe first crack appeared in the glass of the Grand Hall at precisely noon, a thin white line that ran from the ceiling’s apex to the dust-covered floor. It did not shatter. It merely held, a frozen scream suspended in the air of the Academy, where the air smelled of ozone and old paper. Professor Arthur Penhaligon stood before the lecture hall, his hands trembling not from fear, but from a...0 Comments 0 Shares 4 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale DoorThe road from the northern highlands did not lead to a kingdom, but to a place of stone and silence that the maps simply called The Archive. It was a journey that broke the body before it broke the spirit, a long, grinding ascent through mist that tasted of iron and damp wool. Elias Thorne walked with a limp that had been with him since his father’s hands, and he carried nothing but a leather...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded AtticRain slicked the asphalt. It smelled of wet iron and diesel. Miles drove the truck. The engine hummed a low, steady note. *Thump. Thump.* Like a bad heart. He was late. Again. The warehouse loomed. Concrete teeth. Barbed wire. No windows. Just signs. *AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY.* Miles killed the engine. He sat there. Hands on the wheel. Knuckles white. "Come on, Miles," he whispered. His voice...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded RoadThe jar sits upon the heavy oak table, a monument to the things you have done and the things you cannot undo. It is a vessel of thick, green glass, cloudy with age, and within its belly lies a substance that was once vibrant, once a promise of preservation, but is now only a memory of rot. You have watched it for three days. You have not left the room. The air in the cellar is still, thick with...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded FrequencyThe ink had not yet dried on the final seal, a crimson drop of wax that looked less like a stamp of authority and more like a clot of blood pressed into the parchment, when Eleanor realized that the hand holding the quiver was trembling, a fine, high-pitched vibration that traveled from her fingertips up through the bones of her wrist and settled, heavy and cold, in the center of her chest, a...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant GhostThe rain in the Appalachian foothills did not fall so much as it hung in the air, a gray, wet curtain that smelled of iron and rotting pine. You stood beneath the awning of the general store, your hand resting on the cold steel of the rifle you had carried for twenty years. The wood of the stock was worn smooth by the sweat of your palms, a familiar comfort in the trembling dark. You were...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale BannerMara woke with the taste of rust in her mouth. It was thick. It coated her teeth like old blood. She spat onto the floor of the white room. The liquid hit the tile with a wet slap. It turned into a tiny, red flower. Then it faded. Gone. Just a stain. Then not even that. She sat up. Her head throbbed. A dull, rhythmic pounding behind her eyes. The air smelled of ozone and burnt sugar. It was a...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden QuestThe air in the sub-basement of the Whitmore Institute smelled of ozone, damp limestone, and the metallic tang of old blood. We were gathered in the circular chamber, a dozen of us, our breath misting in the cold despite the midsummer heat above. In the center of the room, resting on a pedestal of black granite, sat the object. It was a simple thing, a brass astrolabe, but its surface was etched...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden OathThe ink was dry. I remember the smell of it. Sharp. Acrid. Like burnt hair. We stood in the room. The air was thick. Heavy. It pressed against my chest. I could not breathe. My brother, Thomas, looked at the paper. He did not look at me. His eyes were fixed on the line of text. The golden line. It shimmered. It pulsed. A faint light rose from the page. It was not the sun. It was not a lamp. It...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
Arabic
French
Spanish
Portuguese
Deutsch
Turkish
Dutch
Italiano
Russian
Romaian
Portuguese (Brazil)
Greek