0 Comments
0 Shares
1 Views
0 Reviews
Directory
Discover new ideas, create new connections and make new friends
-
Please log in to like, share and comment!
-
The Faded ParadoxThe rain did not fall so much as it descended, a dense, gray curtain that erased the boundaries between the cobblestones of the High Street and the looming, timber-framed houses of the old quarter, a deluge that turned the air into a thick, metallic soup in which the lanterns of the night watchmen burned with a sickly, flickering yellow, and it was into this suffocating atmosphere that Elias...0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale BonsaiThe mist in the valley of Aethelgard did not rise; it hovered, a thick, grey wool that smelled of wet stone and old iron. It had been there for three days, or perhaps three centuries. Time in the Hollow did not move in lines but in circles, pooling in the corners of the mind like rainwater in a gutter. Elias Thorne sat in his stone cottage, the roof of which was thatched with reeds that...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Wistful VoyageThe iron clank of the chain against the cobblestones is the first thing you remember, sharper than the cold, sharper than the taste of blood in your mouth. You are on your knees in the muddy square, the rain slicking your hair to your forehead, the weight of the manor’s silver chalice heavy in your left hand. It is not a weapon, not truly, but in the eyes of the Magistrate’s guards, it is a...0 Comments 0 Shares 3 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant NightmareThe rain does not fall; it strikes. It hammers against the rusted iron ribs of the cathedral that stands alone in the fog, a skeletal beast of industry frozen in a scream of rust and soot. You are there, in the center of the nave, your breath a white plume in the cold, damp air. You are not a priest. You are not a ghost. You are Captain Elias Thorne, and you are dying, or perhaps you have...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden HarborI woke with the taste of iron and wet slate on my tongue, the sensation so acute it felt as though I had been chewing on a nail left in the rain. The dream had not faded, but rather solidified around me like a heavy fog, a thick, gray wool that pressed against my eardrums and dampened the sounds of the waking world. I was standing in the basement of the old textile mill on the corner of Foundry...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden HarborThe wool of the waistcoat had begun to fray at the elbows, a subtle unraveling that mirrored the slow decay of the castle’s own foundations. Elias Thorne stood before the mirror in his private chamber, the glass dark and clouded by the damp that crept in from the north tower, and watched the threads pull free from the fabric. It was a garment he had worn for thirty years, a deep indigo that had...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded RootThe silk tie, a shade of deep, arterial burgundy that had long since lost its luster to the relentless friction of office lanyards and cardigan cuffs, was the only thing keeping my spine from snapping as I stood before the Chancellor’s desk, a man who occupied a space that felt less like a room and more like a pressurized vessel of institutional memory and bureaucratic decay. I was holding the...0 Comments 0 Shares 26 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded AtticThe feast was a thing of noise and grease, a clamorous engine of wood and iron that churned in the great hall of the manor house. The air hung thick with the scent of roasted pork and stale ale, a heavy, suffocating blanket that settled over the shoulders of the guests. Sir Thomas Ashworth sat at the high table, his face a mask of polite indifference, his eyes fixed on a point somewhere above...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale MistThe rain did not fall so much as it hovered, a persistent, gray mist that clung to the windowpanes of the observation unit like a living thing. Elias Thorne sat in the corner of the cell, his hands resting on his knees, watching the condensation form and drip down the glass in slow, erratic lines. He had been here for three days, and in that time, the silence had grown so thick he could taste...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
Arabic
French
Spanish
Portuguese
Deutsch
Turkish
Dutch
Italiano
Russian
Romaian
Portuguese (Brazil)
Greek