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 Distant LegendThe hall smelled of roasting lamb and old wine, the air thick with the smoke of a hundred candles and the heavier, cloying scent of too many bodies pressed too close together. You stood at the edge of the table, your uniform immaculate, the brass buttons catching the flickering light like cold, unblinking eyes. Around you, the officers of the garrison laughed, their voices rising in a cacophony...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale PathThe rain did not fall so much as it hung in the air, a suspended grey curtain that smelled of wet iron and old dust. Elias Thorne stood at the edge of the gravel road, his hand resting on the cold steel of his service pistol, the metal biting into his palm with a familiarity that felt less like a tool and more like a limb. He was waiting. The command had been clear, delivered through the...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant GhostThe bone snaps with a sound like dry kindling under a heavy boot, a sharp, brittle shriek that tears through the silence of the high pass, and you feel the shockwave travel up your arm, a cold, electric pulse that stops in your heart and leaves a hollow, ringing vacancy where the strength used to be. You are holding the shield, or what remains of it, a splintered oval of ash wood and iron, and...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden SuspectThe leather is cracked. It is a deep, fissured map of your own neglect. You hold it in the gloom of the guardroom, the scent of damp stone and old iron filling your nose. It is a glove. Just a glove. But it is yours. Or it was. You are Sir Aldric. The title hangs heavy, a chain around your neck. You are the King’s Hand. You are the eye that does not blink. For ten years, you have stood in the...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden SongThe bell at the edge of the moor had not rung in three days, and the silence was a physical weight that pressed against the eardrums of the valley below. Elara stood on the ridge, her breath pluming in the thin air, watching the mist retreat from the ancient stones. She was a woman of the old ways, a keeper of the boundary between the seen and the unseen, though in this age of iron and...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded FrontierThe rain hammered the tin roof. I held the knife. My hands shook. The wind screamed outside. I looked at the wall. The plaster was peeling. Darkness crept in. I waited for the breath. It came. Soft. Cold. I raised the blade. I struck. The air split. Nothing landed. Only silence. I lowered the steel. My heart beat fast. I am a seer. Or so they say. In this city, that is a curse. I live in a room...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Wistful DinnerThe fog did not roll in; it rose from the cobblestones of Blackwood Lane like a living exhalation, thick and cold against the skin, smelling of wet slate and the metallic tang of old blood. I stood at the edge of the town square, my hand resting on the hilt of my sword, the leather worn smooth by decades of service to a crown that had long since forgotten my name. The air was heavy, a physical...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale BonsaiThe clay is cold in your hands, a heavy, wet thing that resists the shaping, and you are alone in the cellar of the old watchtower, the air thick with the smell of damp earth and the faint, metallic tang of your own breath. It is the third day since the sickness took the roots, and the bonsai sits on the workbench, its branches stripped bare, a skeletal mirror of the life you have spent twenty...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale BonsaiThe room smells of stale coffee and wet wool. You are sitting. The chair is hard. It bites into your hips. You do not move. You cannot move. There is a table. On the table is a bonsai. It is pale. Unnaturally pale. Like bone. Like ash. This is the Faculty of Natural Sciences. University of Edinburgh. The year is 2024. But it feels older. It feels like it has always been this way. You are Dr....0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
Arabic
French
Spanish
Portuguese
Deutsch
Turkish
Dutch
Italiano
Russian
Romaian
Portuguese (Brazil)
Greek