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The Golden DowntownThe banquet hall in the university’s old administration building smelled of roasted lamb, stale wine, and the sharp, metallic tang of impending dismissal, a scent that clung to the back of your throat like a curse you had not yet spoken aloud. You stood by the window, watching the November rain streak down the glass, blurring the lights of the campus below into long, weeping smears of amber and...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
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The Distant MachineThe glass shatters. You hear it before you see it. A high, thin shriek that splits the air in the Grand Hall. It sounds like a bone breaking. It sounds like the world ending. You stand by the mahogany desk. Your hands are still. Your father’s hands are shaking. The chandelier above is a spiderweb of crystal. It hangs low. It catches the light from the gas jets. It burns cold. You look at the...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
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The Distant LegendThe rain on the roof of the library was not water. It was sound. It was the static of a radio left on in an empty room, a hiss that had forgotten how to stop. You woke with the taste of copper in your mouth and the weight of the floorboards pressing against your skull. You were in the Archive of Unwritten Things. The shelves stretched up into a darkness that did not have a ceiling, only a void...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
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The Golden ScarThe air in the Sanctum tasted of ozone and old paper, a dry, metallic tang that coated the back of my throat before I could even swallow. We stood in a semicircle, twelve of us, our white coats stained with the invisible dust of the work, our hands clasped behind our backs in the rigid posture of obedience. At the center of the room, on a plinth of black marble, sat the thing. It was not large,...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
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The Faded SutraThe coat was gone. Or rather, the idea of it was gone. Elias stood in the grey light of the university courtyard. He held a cup of cold coffee. It burned his fingers. He did not move. Around him, the students flowed like a river of wool and noise. They spoke of the war. They spoke of the peace. They spoke of nothing at all. The coat had been his for thirty years. It was heavy. It smelled of old...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
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The Golden ScarThe air in the valley did not smell of earth or rain. It smelled of copper and ozone, a metallic tang that coated the back of the throat and lingered long after a breath. I was twelve years old when the sky turned the color of a bruised plum, and we were told that the rain was not water. It was filtration. It was purity. The adults said this with the calm, hollow certainty of people who had...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
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The Wistful AshesThe air tasted of copper and old ash. "You're late, Elias." Elias turned. His boots scraped the concrete. The sound was sharp, a single note in the silence. He looked at the man. The man did not look back. He stood by the window. The glass was black. Outside, nothing moved. Only the gray. "Traffic," Elias said. "Lies." Elias stopped. He felt the weight of the words. They were heavy. They sat in...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
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The Pale BannerThe rain did not fall so much as it hovered, a fine, silver mist that clung to the skin and tasted of iron and old copper. Elias Thorne stood in the center of the white void, his boots sinking slightly into a ground that had no texture, only a faint, pulsing luminescence. He held the bone in his left hand. It was long, curved, and pale as moonlight, heavier than it looked. It was his brother’s...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
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The Faded BouquetThe rain did not fall so much as it hung, a thick, grey curtain that smelled of wet stone and old iron, pressing against the high, narrow windows of the Hall of Silence until the glass groaned under the weight of the sky. I stood in the center of the room, my hands bound by the heavy, cold links of the chain that had been forged for me a lifetime ago, watching the dust motes dance in the single...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
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