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The Pale DoorThe rain did not fall so much as it hung in the air, a fine, persistent mist that turned the cobblestones of the lower ward into slick, dark mirrors reflecting the flickering oil lamps of the watchmen. Thomas Ashworth stood beneath the eave of the apothecary’s shop, his leather cloak heavy with water, and watched a rat scramble across the wet flagstones, its tail twitching with a frantic,...0 Comments 0 Shares 4 Views 0 Reviews
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The Pale BridgeThe rain fell in sheets of grey iron. It hammered the roof of the keep, a relentless drumbeat that matched the thud of Aldric’s heart. He stood in the courtyard, mud caking his boots, his hand slick with blood that was not his own. The air smelled of wet stone and ozone. Above him, the sky was a bruised thing, swollen with storm clouds that refused to break. Aldric was the King’s Hand. Or...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Pale VerdictI woke with the taste of copper in my mouth. The dream was gone, but the residue remained, a metallic film over the tongue that no amount of water would wash away. I sat up. The ceiling of the hospital room was white. Too white. It hummed with a low frequency that seemed to vibrate in my teeth. I was seventy-two years old. My body felt heavy, like wet sand packed into a suit. The door opened....0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Distant JokeThe feast was held in the high hall of the Citadel, a place of stone and silence where the air tasted of old iron and colder things. Torches burned low in iron brackets, casting long, trembling shadows that danced against the rough-hewn walls. At the center of the room, a long table groaned under the weight of roasted meats, dark bread, and clay bowls of wine that looked like spilled blood. But...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Wistful MirrorThe ink is drying on the contract before you even see it. It sits on the counter of the old shop in the district, a slab of mahogany that has seen too many winters. The air smells of dust and varnish. Outside, the rain hammers against the glass, a relentless, deafening drumroll that vibrates in your teeth. You are not a man who signs things lightly. You have been a master restorer of antique...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Wistful CrossroadsThe rain did not fall so much as it settled, a heavy, gray silt that coated the world in a fine layer of despair, turning the heather on the moors into a bruised purple bruise against the bone-white sky. Thomas Ashworth walked the perimeter of the camp, his boots sinking into the mud that seemed to possess a memory of every soldier who had ever dragged their weight through it. He was a man of...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Faded DustThe rain did not fall so much as it intruded, a gray, persistent mist that clung to the stone walls of the manor house and seeped into the marrow of everything it touched. I stood in the center of the great hall, the air thick with the scent of wet wool and old varnish, my hands resting on the hilt of a sword that felt heavy with the weight of centuries I had not yet fully understood. My name...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
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The Pale BonsaiThe shrapnel had not yet stopped singing in my left ear, a high, thin wire of sound that vibrated against the bone, when I realized that the mirror on the wall of the Inquisitor’s office was not reflecting me, but rather, a hollow space where my head should be, a void shaped like a skull with no eyes, no nose, no mouth, only the rough, jagged edges of where a face used to be before it was...0 Comments 0 Shares 3 Views 0 Reviews
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The Golden OathThe rain did not fall so much as it hung in the air, a heavy, grey curtain that smelled of wet stone and old iron, settling over the city of Oakhaven where the cobblestones were slick with a sludge that seemed to absorb the light of the setting sun. Captain Elias Thorne stood at the head of the watchtower, his hands resting on the cold steel of the railing, and his left hand, the one that had...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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