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 Golden RitualThe brass bell hung in the center of the room. It was heavy, dull, and cold to the touch. We stood in a circle around it. My father stood at the head of the table. He did not eat. He did not drink. He watched the bell. I was twenty-two. I wore my uniform. The wool itched. The buttons pressed into my skin. I felt tight. I felt watched. "Look at it," my father said. His voice was dry. Like leaves...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Wistful MountainThe road to the Abbey was a ribbon of grey stone, frayed at the edges by centuries of rain. We walked in silence. The air was thin, sharp as a blade. It tasted of iron and old snow. I carried my brother’s burden. It was not a sack of grain. It was a weight in the chest, a stone in the throat. It was his hands. They were bound with rope. The rope was thick. It was soaked with blood. We had taken...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale TowerThe rain had not stopped for three days, turning the grounds of St. Jude’s Institute for Behavioral Correction into a slick, grey mirror that reflected the low, brooding sky. Inside, the air was thick with the scent of damp wool, floor wax, and the faint, metallic tang of old paper. Elias Thorne stood by the window in his office, a small, windowless room at the end of the second-floor corridor,...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden CrossingThe rain had not ceased in the valley of Ashworth for three days, a persistent, gray weeping that turned the earth into a slurry of mud and memory, and within the damp, stone-walled keep of Lord Blackwood, Sir Julian stood alone in the center of the great hall, his hand pressed firmly against the small of his back where the leather of his scabbard chafed against his skin. The air was thick with...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded ParadoxThe fog did not lift. It thickened. You stood at the edge of the white void. The ground beneath your feet was not grass, nor stone, nor soil. It was a membrane. It breathed. It pulsed with a slow, rhythmic beat that matched your own heart. You were here because you had to be here. You were here because the work demanded it. You were a scholar of the unseen, a cartographer of the impossible. You...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant ThresholdYou wake in the rain. Not water. Rain of iron filings. Fine, rusted dust. It coats your tongue. It stains your lips. You taste the blood of old gears. You are standing in a field. No, not a field. A vast, gray expanse of shattered glass. Each shard reflects a different sky. A burning sun. A frozen moon. A void. You do not look up. You know what you will see. Your body is heavy. You wear the...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale AltarThe hand was red. Not the red of blood. Not yet. It was the red of a bruise waking up. A deep, violet swell beneath the skin. The hand of Captain Silas Thorne. It rested on the oak table. The wood was polished to a glassy sheen. It reflected the chandelier above. The light was cold. It was the light of an empire. It did not care who bled beneath it. Silas looked at his hand. He looked at the...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden MythThe iron key hangs at your neck, a cold weight against the skin, vibrating with a frequency that has nothing to do with sound and everything to do with hunger. It is an ugly thing, forged in the blacksmith’s heat of the lower village, its teeth worn smooth by years of use, its bow shaped like a skull with hollowed-out eyes. You have carried it for three days, ever since you fled the manor...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale BonsaiThe air in the Ministry’s antechamber tasted of ozone and crushed thyme, a metallic tang that coated the tongue and signaled the thinning of the veil between the ordered world and the chaos that pressed against its walls. I sat upon a chair of carved mahogany, its arms worn smooth by centuries of nervous hands, and watched the bonsai on the desk before me. It was a pale, skeletal thing, its...0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews
Arabic
French
Spanish
Portuguese
Deutsch
Turkish
Dutch
Italiano
Russian
Romaian
Portuguese (Brazil)
Greek