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The Distant NightmareThe feast is a mistake. You know it. The air is thick. Candlelight wavers. Gold leaf flakes. It falls on the floor. You do not sweep it. You are the guest. Or the host. It does not matter. The room is small. Stone walls. No windows. The door is barred. From the outside. You are inside. This is ancient. Or so it feels. Time is a loop here. The music stops. Silence is loud. You look at your...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
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The Golden MirrorThe mirror lay in the crate. It was a heavy thing, wrapped in oilcloth that smelled of damp earth and old iron. I had carried it for three days through the heath. The wind tore at my cloak. The ground was hard as stone under my boots. I was leaving. I was leaving everything behind. The village was burning. The smoke was thick and black. It choked the sky. I looked back once. Then I turned...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
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The Golden CellarThe mud sucked at my boots. It was thick and cold, tasting of iron and rot. I kicked. The boot stayed. I kicked again. The earth gave way with a wet tear. I pulled free. My lungs burned. The air was thin here, under the town. We were in the cellar. The golden cellar. That is what they called it. Not for the light. There was no light. Not for the gold. There was no gold. It was a name. A label....0 Comments 0 Shares 25 Views 0 Reviews
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The Distant PromiseThe cellar door groaned open, releasing a breath of air that smelled of wet stone, stale tobacco, and the metallic tang of old blood. You stand in the doorway, your uniform pressed and immaculate, the brass buttons catching the dim, yellowed light of the single bulb hanging from the ceiling like a trapped insect. It is a cellar beneath the old manor house in the countryside, a place that should...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
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The Faded QuadrantThe feast was loud. It was a cacophony of clattering pewter and the sharp, percussive snap of dried bones being stripped clean by hands that did not tremble. Thomas sat at the end of the long oak table, his armor polished to a dull, mirror-like sheen. The firelight caught the steel, throwing fractured reflections onto the high stone walls. He did not eat. He watched. His sister, Elara, sat...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
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The Distant JourneyThe sword is heavy. It is always heavy. You carry it through the long hall. The floorboards creak. They sound like bones breaking. You are a knight. You are the shield of the house. The house is old. Stone walls. Cold air. It smells of damp and old blood. You hold the sword. Your grip tightens. Your knuckles are white. They are always white. You see the mirror. It stands in the corner. Tall....0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
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The Faded FrequencyThe letter smelled of damp earth and old ink, a scent that Margaret had associated with her mother’s study for thirty years, yet here it was, resting on the cold steel of the hospital cafeteria table, stark against the sterile white linoleum. It was not a letter in the traditional sense, but a series of entries, dated and typed on a manual machine that clacked with the heavy, deliberate force...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
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The Wistful ShowThe air in the Great Hall of Dunbarshire smelled of roasted boar, stale ale, and the thick, cloying sweetness of the black roses that lined the high windows, a scent that seemed to press against the back of my throat like a physical weight, forcing me to swallow hard to keep from retching as I watched the Lord High Constable, a man named Aldous Vane, raise his goblet to the moonlight streaming...0 Comments 0 Shares 3 Views 0 Reviews
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The Pale TaleThe iron gate of the Citadel of St. Jude groaned against its rusted hinges, a sound like a dying man’s last breath, as Captain Elias Thorne dragged his broken body through the threshold, the blood from his left shoulder soaking through the heavy wool of his tunic, turning the dark fabric into a slick, heavy weight that pulled at his wounded flesh. He was not alone in his suffering, for behind...0 Comments 0 Shares 5 Views 0 Reviews
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