0 Comments
0 Shares
3 Views
0 Reviews
Directory
Discover new ideas, create new connections and make new friends
-
Please log in to like, share and comment!
-
The Wistful AtlasThe rain in Seattle did not fall so much as it existed, a persistent, gray membrane that separated the world from the air, and Clara stood before the mirror in the narrow hallway of her walk-up apartment, staring at the architecture of her own face with a detachment that felt less like observation and more like autopsy. She was thirty-four, an age that should have settled her into the firm...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Wistful ThroneThe rain did not fall so much as it was administered, a precise, cold metric of gray water that turned the asphalt of the compound into a mirror of the sky above. It was a night in the modern era, yet the air tasted of something older, something metallic and suspended, like the breath held before a verdict. Inside the observation deck, Elias Thorne sat with his hands folded in his lap, the...0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded FrontierThe storm came in sideways. It was not rain, but a bruised purple mist that swallowed the valley whole. Caelen stood on the ridge, his boots sinking into the wet slate. He was old. The skin on his face was like dried leather, mapped with the cracks of a century he had not lived, yet his body hummed with a strange, cold fire. He held the Sword of Silence. It was a jagged thing, black iron that...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale BannerThe building stood at the edge of the fog, a structure of white stone and sharp angles that did not belong to the valley below. It was not a house, nor a church, but something in between, a vessel of pure geometry that seemed to hover slightly above the mossy ground. I had been walking for three days, or perhaps three weeks; time had lost its linear grip in this place. My legs ached with a...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Wistful ShowThe rain fell on the city of Aethelgard like a shroud of grey silk, heavy and unending. It slicked the cobblestones until they shimmered with a cold, wet light, reflecting the tall, narrow spires that pierced the low-hanging clouds. In the center of this wet, ancient square stood a fountain. It was not merely stone and water. It was a mirror. A living, breathing, terrible mirror. Captain Elias...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale ShadowsThe smell of boiled mutton and stale yeast hangs in the air, a thick, cloying fog that clings to the back of your throat and refuses to let go, as you stand before the long, mahogany table where the General sits with his face turned away from the window, his shoulders hunched in a posture that suggests not defeat but a heavy, deliberate containment of some terrible weight. You are the new chef,...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale MistThe mirror was old. It was a heavy thing, framed in dark wood that had once been polished to a high sheen. Now it was dull. The glass was clouded. It sat in the corner of the room. No one used it. Margaret watched it. She watched it from her chair. The chair was wooden. It creaked when she shifted. She did not shift. She stayed still. The room was quiet. The silence was thick. It pressed...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant ThresholdThe glass shattered on the floor. It was a small sound. A sharp crack. Then the hiss of wind through the hole in the windowpane. Elias stood still. His hand trembled. The shard in his grip cut his palm. Blood welled up, dark and warm. He looked at the floor. The pieces of the vase lay there. Blue and white. Shattered. He had not meant to break it. Or so he told himself. The room was cold. The...0 Comments 0 Shares 5 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale BannerThe moss in the cellar had grown thick enough to swallow the sound of Thomas’s breathing, a soft, damp silence that clung to the stone walls like a second skin. He sat on the overturned bucket, his hands resting on his knees, fingers interlaced so tightly the knuckles turned the color of old bone, and he stared at the object resting against his thigh, the heavy, iron-rimmed wheel that had once...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
Arabic
French
Spanish
Portuguese
Deutsch
Turkish
Dutch
Italiano
Russian
Romaian
Portuguese (Brazil)
Greek