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The Distant JokeThe rain had been falling for three days, a cold, persistent sheet that turned the mud of the road into a thick, sucking paste that clung to our boots and slowed our march to a grinding crawl. I walked beside my brother, Thomas, our breaths rising in thin, white plumes before us, dissolving quickly into the gray mist that hung low over the valley. We were men of the King’s guard, or so the...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Golden SongThe hall smelled of roasted pheasant and stale perfume. It was a thick, cloying scent, the kind that clung to the velvet drapes and the heavy oak paneling. We sat at the long table, forty of us, the cream of the county’s law and order. I sat near the foot, my uniform pressed tight against my chest. The brass buttons felt cold. They were the only things in the room that felt real. General...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
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The Pale CircusThe rain did not fall so much as it hung, a suspended grey curtain that blurred the edge of the asphalt and the sky into a single, indistinct plane. Inside the precinct’s break room, the air was thick with the smell of stale coffee and wet wool. Sergeant Elias Thorne sat with his back to the wall, his uniform pressed and immaculate, a stark contrast to the squalor that seemed to seep through...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Wistful CipherYou arrive in Harrowgate on a Tuesday. The rain is thin and cold. It sticks to your face. You are a detective. You are here for a murder. The victim is Thomas Bradshaw. He was a baker. He is dead. You stand outside his shop. The door is locked. You wait. The owner is not there. You wait longer. The rain stops. The sky is gray. It is a small town. It is quiet. You go to the station. The station...0 Comments 0 Shares 3 Views 0 Reviews
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The Wistful CampusRain fell on the window. It did not hit. It dissolved into the glass. Leo watched. He was ten. His fingers were white. The cold was a physical weight. It pressed against his ribs. He felt the fabric of his coat. The wool was damp. It clung to his skin. It was heavy. It was his armor. "Leo," said the voice. It came from the corner. The air was thick. It tasted of ozone and old metal. "You are...0 Comments 0 Shares 33 Views 0 Reviews
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The Distant SummerThe air in the Hall of Whispers did not smell of dust or decay, as one might expect in a place that had not seen the sun in three hundred years, but rather of ozone, crushed lavender, and the metallic tang of old blood that had dried into the floorboards long before the current century had drawn its first breath. Elara stood at the center of the circular chamber, her feet bare against the cold...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Faded RuinThe bell in the tower did not ring to mark the hour. It rang to mark the end. It was a sound like a bone snapping in a deep, frozen lake. I stood in the center of the courtyard, my armor cold against my skin, the iron taste of old blood rising in the back of my throat. The sky above the city of Oakhaven was not blue, nor was it the gray of a common winter day. It was the color of a bruise that...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Distant GardenThe willow tree. It stands in the yard. It has always stood there. I see it in my sleep. Its branches hang low. They touch the mud. They do not move. The wind is dead. I am the tree. I am the roots. I am the bark. I know this. My brother, Thomas, does not know. He is a lawyer. He wears a grey suit. The fabric is stiff. It smells of chalk. He sits at the desk. The desk is wood. It is dark. He...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Golden FarceThe oak roots did not merely grip the earth; they devoured it, twisting through the damp clay of the undercroft like the fingers of a buried giant reaching for a sky that had been forgotten for three centuries. It was in this subterranean vault, beneath the heavy stone floors of the old priory that now served as a detention center for the Crown’s most stubborn dissenters, that Sir Elias Thorne...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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