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 Pale BannerThe road to the Citadel of Aethelgard was not a path so much as a scar cut into the earth, a ribbon of grey stone winding through the mist-choked valleys of the Highlands. Aldous, the Court Archivist, walked it with the heavy, deliberate step of a man carrying a burden that was not on his back but in his marrow. Beside him, his shield and his only true companion in this age of shadows, was...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded PortraitThe wind howled through the gaps in the castle wall. It was a sharp, ancient sound. It cut through wool and bone. Elias stood by the window. He held a shard of glass in his hand. It was thin. It was blue. It caught the moonlight and held it, trembling. "Put it down," said the voice from the dark. Elias did not turn. His back was to the door. He knew the weight of the silence behind him. He knew...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden SongThe fever broke at dawn, not with a sudden coolness but with a slow, grudging retreat of the heat from the marrow, leaving behind a body that felt hollowed out, scraped clean, and reassembled from wet, unseasoned wood, a vessel that no longer quite recognized the rhythm of its own breath. I lay on the straw pallet in the corner of the stone cellar, the air thick with the smell of damp earth,...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant GardenThe garden was not a place. It was a line. A straight, white line drawn across the lawn of my ancestral home. I stood by the window. The rain tapped against the glass. It was a steady, rhythmic sound. Like a clock counting down. My hands were still. They were old hands. They had held many things. Books. Tools. The hand of a woman who was gone. Now they held only the silence. I am a scholar. I...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded AlibiThe rain had been falling for three days, a grey sheet that blurred the edges of the station and turned the cobblestones into slick, black mirrors. You sat at your desk, the wood scarred by decades of files and coffee rings, and watched the water drip from the eaves. The office was cold. It was always cold in the winter at the Bureau, a chill that seemed to seep out of the stone walls...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Wistful IncenseThe house on the ridge had always smelled of damp wool and old paper, a scent that clung to the skin like a second layer of clothes that could never quite be peeled away. Elara stood by the window, watching the fog roll in from the valley below, a thick white blanket that erased the world beyond the garden’s edge. It was a gray morning, the kind that settled into the bones and made the joints...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale EchoThe soup had cooled in the iron bowl, its surface skinning over with a film of pale fat that shimmered in the dim light of the watch house. I stirred it with a wooden spoon, the sound a dull, rhythmic scrape against the metal, a heartbeat for the empty room. Outside, the rain lashed the cobblestones of the square, turning the world into a grey smear of mud and mist. In this town of Alderbury,...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded RoadThe train cut through the gray belly of the night, a steel ribcage rattling against the iron tracks, carrying Elias Vane from the damp, fog-choked streets of London to the sprawling, soot-stained industrial heart of Manchester. He sat in the corner of the third-class compartment, his coat buttoned to the chin, watching the blur of trees and telegraph poles whip past the window like frantic,...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Wistful Cipher"You are late." The voice was soft. It cut through the heavy silence of the hall like a razor through silk. Elias looked up. He was not supposed to be there. He was not supposed to be anywhere near the Palace of Arts, let alone the private chambers of the Curator. But here he stood, trembling in the cold air, his coat thin and patched, his fingers stained with the dust of the street. "Forgive...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
Arabic
French
Spanish
Portuguese
Deutsch
Turkish
Dutch
Italiano
Russian
Romaian
Portuguese (Brazil)
Greek