0 Comments
0 Shares
1 Views
0 Reviews
Directory
Discover new ideas, create new connections and make new friends
-
Please log in to like, share and comment!
-
The Pale ShadowsThe blood is thick. It coats my tongue like rust. I taste iron. I taste coal. The air in the mine is dead. It does not move. It presses against my chest. I am holding my left hand up. I am holding it for you. I am holding it for the men behind me. Look at it. It is not a weapon. It is flesh. It is bone. It is red and wet and trembling. It is the only thing I have left that is truly mine. The...0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale ExileThe dream was not a dream. It was a hallway. Miles Vance stood at the end of it. The carpet was red, but faded to the color of dried blood. The walls were lined with portraits of men who had long since ceased to exist. Their eyes were painted in a style that predated the invention of the camera, yet they tracked his movement with a clarity that felt invasive. He knew this place. He had not...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden SuspectYou arrive at the edge of the valley on a morning so thick with mist that the world beyond the immediate treeline ceases to exist, reducing your perception to a narrow corridor of wet bark and the heavy, sweet rot of fallen leaves that crunches beneath your boots with a sound like breaking teeth. You are walking toward the house, that isolated stone structure perched on the ridge, but you are...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant LegendThe rain did not fall. It hung. It was a thick, grey mist that smelled of wet iron and old stone. It clung to the wool of Marcus’s coat, heavy and cold. He stood in the center of the Great Hall, the air vibrating with a low hum that he felt in his teeth. The hall was vast, a cathedral of glass and steel, but the windows were dark. No light came from outside. Only the pale, sickly glow of the...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant MetropolisThe metal is cold against the bridge of your nose, a constant, biting reminder of the architecture of your own face, a rigid iron skeleton that you have come to mistake for your own skin, a structure that holds the world at a safe and terrible distance from the soft, vulnerable flesh beneath, and you sit in the center of the sterile white room, the fluorescent lights humming a low, electric...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded FrontierThe mud of the siege line was not merely dirt; it was a living, sucking thing that held the bones of the fallen in a vice of black, rotting intimacy. You stand in it, your boots sinking with every breath, the weight of your pike a familiar, dull ache in your shoulders that has become indistinguishable from the weight of your own blood. The air tastes of iron and wet wool, a metallic tang that...0 Comments 0 Shares 29 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant WoundThe stone crumbles under your boot. You are bleeding. The blood is red. It smells of iron and old rain. You are in the Hall of Whispers. It is a palace of glass and bone. The light is grey. It cuts through the dust. You hold your sword. It is heavy. It is your friend. It is your enemy. You remember Thomas. He stood beside you. He held the line. He did not run. He broke. Like the glass walls....0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Wistful AshesThe air in the high galleries of the Spire did not smell of dust or decay, as the histories of the old world claimed it should, but rather of sterile ozone and the faint, metallic tang of the Great Clock’s exhaust, a scent that had become so intimate to the citizens of Aethelgard that they had long since forgotten the name for the air that used to carry the scent of rain. Sir Julian Vane stood...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden MazeI dreamt of the door. It was oak. Heavy. Dark. I stood before it. My hands were empty. I woke. The cell was cold. Stone walls. Damp air. I sat up. My back ached. I had been there for three days. Or three years. Time is a liar in a dungeon. I looked at my wrists. The chains were loose. But the cuffs were tight. They rubbed the skin raw. I remembered the Queen. She sat on the throne. Gold leaf....0 Comments 0 Shares 7 Views 0 Reviews
Arabic
French
Spanish
Portuguese
Deutsch
Turkish
Dutch
Italiano
Russian
Romaian
Portuguese (Brazil)
Greek