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The Distant MetropolisThe rain in Seattle did not fall so much as it hung in the air, a fine, persistent mist that clung to the windows of the forty-second floor of the Sterling & Vane corporate headquarters, turning the city below into a blurred watercolor of gray and indistinct neon. Margaret Holloway stood by the glass, her reflection ghosting over the skyline, a translucent woman who felt less like a person and...0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews
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The Wistful AshesThe iron gates of the Citadel of Aethelgard did not open so much as they sighed, a low, grinding exhalation that seemed to rise from the very bedrock of the earth, shaking the dust from the cobblestones and settling into the cracks of the ancient, moss-eaten stone that formed the perimeter of the kingdom’s most dreaded institution, a place where the air was always thick with the scent of ozone...0 Comments 0 Shares 3 Views 0 Reviews
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The Pale CircusThe dream began with the smell of wet wool and gunpowder, a scent that had become so woven into the fabric of my existence that I could no longer distinguish it from the scent of rain. I was standing in the center of a town that did not exist on any map, a place where the houses leaned against one another like conspirators sharing a secret. In the dream, I was not Margot. I was a figure of...0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews
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The Distant AffairThe coat was green. Not the deep, dignified green of pine or moss, but a sickly, jaundiced lime that seemed to vibrate against the gray sky. I held it up. It smelled of wet wool and old smoke. It was mine. It had been mine for thirty years. I wore it every day. It was the only thing I owned that still fit. My brother, Thomas, stood across the road. He was thin. His coat was black. It was tight...0 Comments 0 Shares 70 Views 0 Reviews
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The Faded MasqueradeThe chandelier burns. It is a forest of light. Crystal and brass. You sit. You eat. The knife cuts the meat. It is red. It is wet. You are a scholar. You have a title. You have a degree. You have a name. It is James Whitmore. It is a good name. It is a heavy name. You do not speak. You listen. The air is thick. It smells of wax and old wood. It smells of fear. There is a table. There are many...0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews
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The Golden ScarThe alarm didn’t ring so much as it sighed, a low, vibrating hum that rattled the teeth in the skull of every employee on the forty-second floor of the Ministry of Civil Compliance. It was a Tuesday, or what passed for Tuesday in the grey, perpetual twilight of the city, and the air in the open-plan office tasted of stale ozone and the specific, metallic dread of impending audit. Arthur...0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews
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The Distant CrownThe fever had stripped the world to bone. Miles lay in the ditch, his body a map of failing lines. The mud was cold, a slick, black mirror reflecting a sky that no longer held stars. It held only the Gloom, a thick, breathing fog that rolled in from the treeline. It tasted of copper and rot. He coughed, and the sound was a wet, jagged thing, tearing through the silence. "Can you see it?" a...0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews
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The Golden CrossingThe hammer struck. Again. And again. Elias Vance did not flinch. The air in the forge was thick with smoke and the scent of hot iron. He worked the glowing billet under the anvil. Sweat stung his eyes. He did not wipe it away. The metal screamed a low, metallic note. It was a sound that had haunted him for three days. It was the sound of a lie. He was a tinsmith in Oakhaven. A small place. A...0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews
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The Faded RootThe tower stood against the sky. It was made of bone. Not animal bone. Human bone. Or perhaps it was something else entirely. Something that remembered being alive. You dreamt of it. You always dreamt of it. The white spire pierced the grey clouds. It hummed. A low, resonant hum that vibrated in your teeth. In your dreams, you were small. You were a speck of dust at the base. You looked up. The...0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews
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