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The Golden MythThe iron gate had not been locked. That was the first thing I told myself, standing in the mud of the courtyard, rain slicking my hair against my forehead. It was simply open. A mistake. A carelessness on the part of the staff. I did not think of it as a key. I never thought of it as a key. I only thought of the cold. The cold that lived in the bones of the house and the cold that lived in my...0 Comments 0 Shares 24 Views 0 Reviews
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The Distant WhispersThe rain had not stopped for three days, a relentless, grey curtain that blurred the edges of the city and turned the cobblestones into slick, dark mirrors reflecting the gaslight of a world that felt increasingly fragile under the weight of its own soot and industry. Colonel Elias Thorne stood on the corner of 4th and Main, his uniform damp and heavy, the wool clinging to his frame like a...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
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The Faded RoadI woke in the damp cold of the stone cellar. The air tasted of iron and old rain. I could not remember falling. I could only remember the weight of the sword at my hip. It was not there. I reached for it. My hand found only rough-hewn rock. The silence was heavy. It pressed against my eardrums. A torch flickered in the corner. The light was yellow. It was sickly. I squinted. Shadows danced on...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
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The Wistful CrossroadsThe rain does not fall on the city; it is extracted from the air, a slow, corrosive bleed that turns the asphalt into a black mirror reflecting nothing but the grey, bruised sky. You stand at the intersection of 4th and Main, your shoes soaking through with a cold that has nothing to do with temperature and everything to do with the fact that the ground is no longer solid. You are looking for...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
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The Distant LegendThe coffee was cold. It had been cold for an hour. Margaret stared at the surface. Ripples. She touched the desk. Cold plastic. The fluorescent lights hummed. A low, persistent drone. It lived in her teeth. It lived in her bones. Room 4B. Sector Seven. The air tasted of ozone and dust. She blinked. The cursor blinked back. Beep. Beep. Beep. A heartbeat. Not hers. It was too fast. Her hands were...0 Comments 0 Shares 9 Views 0 Reviews
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The Wistful CampusI woke with the taste of chalk dust and old iron in my mouth, the metallic tang of a coin I had been clenching for hours. The dream was still clinging to me, thick and gray, like wool soaked in rain. In the dream, I was standing in the library of St. Jude’s Academy, the building that had swallowed half my youth and the other half of my future, and the shelves were not holding books but empty...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
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The Golden OathThe air in the sub-basement of the federal processing center tasted of recycled ozone and wet concrete, a sterile, metallic tang that coated the back of my throat and settled deep in the lungs, a constant reminder that we were breathing something that had been scrubbed, filtered, and approved by a committee that had never once stood in the rain or felt the ache of a bruise. I stood at my...0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews
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The Faded GuestThe air in the valley of the Ashwood was not merely cold but heavy, a dense, metallic sludge that coated the lungs of the traveler, Elias Thorne, with a film of rust and regret, and as he hauled the splintered carcass of his surveyor’s tripod over the jagged, blackened ridges of the highlands, he felt the specific, grinding pain of a man who had mistaken his hunger for a moral compass, a...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
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The Faded RoadThe iron gate of the asylum does not close so much as it exhalation, a long, rusted sigh that settles into the fog like a secret kept too long. You stand there, Thomas, with your hands bound not by rope but by the sheer, suffocating weight of your own guilt, a guilt that has calcified into the very fabric of your being, turning your skin into parchment, your blood into ink, your breath into the...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
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