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The Distant BladeThe bell tolled not for hours, but for death, a sound that cracked the air like a dry branch snapping under a heavy boot. You stood in the courtyard of the High Keep, the mud slick and cold against your worn boots, watching the smoke rise from the village below. It was a thin, grey ribbon, twisting upward into a sky that had forgotten how to be blue. In your hand, you held the blade. It was not...0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews
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The Pale BonsaiThe air in the hall was thick with the scent of roasting goose and the sharper, metallic tang of old money, a perfume that clung to the velvet drapes and settled into the pores of the skin like a fine, invisible dust that no amount of scrubbing could ever fully dislodge, and I stood at the edge of the banquet table, watching the silverware clink against the porcelain with a rhythmic, mechanical...0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews
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The Golden ScarThe dream did not begin with darkness, as dreams often do, but with a blinding, sterile white light that hummed in the frequency of a dying fluorescent tube, a light that felt less like illumination and more like the pressure of deep water against the eardrums. Thomas Bradshaw stood in the center of a vast, circular room that had no ceiling, only an infinite expanse of this same oppressive...0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews
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The Pale ExileThe hall smells of roast goose and wet wool. You are seated. The candles gutter. The air is thick with breath. You look down. Your hands are still. They are not shaking. You are a guard. You watch the door. You watch the table. You watch the faces. They are smiling. They are drinking. They do not know what you see. You hold the sprig of thyme. It is green. It is brittle. It breaks under your...0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews
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The Golden QuestThe dream was of gold. Not coins, nor bars, but a liquid light that pooled in the hollows of his hands. It tasted of iron and honey. He woke with his fingers curled tight, as if holding something heavy and hot. The room was cold. The fire in the hearth was a bed of grey ash. Outside, the wind scraped against the stone walls of the cottage like a beggar’s nails. Elias sat up. His joints popped....0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews
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The Pale CircusI woke with the taste of ash in my mouth. The dream was still there, thick and black, clinging to the back of my throat. In the dream, the sky was the color of a bruise. I was running. The ground was soft, like rotting leaves. I knew I would not stop until my heart stopped. I opened my eyes. The ceiling of the cabin was dark. The moon cut a pale sliver through the window. It hit the...0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews
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The Faded DustThe river broke open at dawn. It was not a gentle swelling. It was a violent, tearing rupture of the earth. The mud of the valley floor, baked hard by the July heat, gave way in long, heaving plates. Water, black and thick with silt, surged through the cracks. I stood on the ridge, watching the landscape dissolve. My boots sank into the softening clay. I had come here to find the body. I had...0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews
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The Faded FrequencyThe mud sucked at my boots. It was thick, black, and cold. I pulled free with a grunt. My axe hung low. The enemy was close. Too close. I saw the glint of steel in the fog. I swung. The wood shattered. A body fell. I did not check for a pulse. I moved. The air tasted of iron and wet stone. I am writing this by firelight. The ink is thin. It smears on the parchment. My hand shakes. Not from...0 Comments 0 Shares 3 Views 0 Reviews
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The Wistful DinnerThe hall smelled of wax and old blood. It was a smell I had carried for twenty years. It sat in the back of my throat, a bitter taste that no amount of wine could wash away. I stood in the center of the Grand Antechamber. The stone floor was cold. My boots made no sound. I was a man of duty. A soldier. My uniform was dark, pressed tight against my ribs. My hand rested on the hilt of my sword....0 Comments 0 Shares 3 Views 0 Reviews
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