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The Faded ShieldThe ink on my palm did not dry; it seeped, a cold, viscous tide that mapped the topography of my soul onto the skin, turning the lines of my life into a jagged, unreadable script of guilt and grief. I stood in the center of the village square, the cobblestones slick with the rain that had fallen for three days without pause, and I watched the shield I had carried for forty years crumble into...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Golden SuspectThe torchlight gutters. It dies. You stand in the dark. The cold is a living thing here. It eats your breath. You hold your sword. It is heavy. It is cold. You are a man of the law. Or so they say. You are a tool. A blade without a hand. The stone walls breathe. They do not. They wait. This is the Keep of St. Jude. It has stood for three hundred years. It will stand after you are dust. It does...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Pale TaleThe rain hit the window. It sounded like static. I watched the droplets race down the glass. They were fast. They were desperate. I am old now. My knees ache. My back is a knot of wire. I am a man of sixty. I used to be a soldier. I am a man of the law now. I am a guard. I stand in the hallway. I hold my badge. I hold my breath. The cafeteria smells of boiled meat. It smells of decay. It smells...0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews
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The Pale TaleThe feast was a slaughter of light. Candles burned low in the brass sconces, dripping wax like frozen tears onto the oak table. The air was thick. It smelled of roasted pork, stale ale, and the metallic tang of blood that never quite washed out of the leather aprons. Thomas sat at the head. He did not eat. His hands were still. They rested on the wood, knuckles white, fingers interlaced. He...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Golden OathThe feast was loud. Candles burned low in silver holders, melting into puddles of gold on the oak table. Meat roasted on spits. Wine ran red in clay cups. Laughter bounced off stone walls. It was a good night. It was a warm night. Outside, the wind howled in the dark. Inside, we were safe. We were together. Silas sat at the head of the table. He did not eat. He did not drink. He stared at his...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Golden HarborThe firelight in the hall of Blackwood Manor was not a source of warmth, but a predator, leaping from the mantelpiece with a hunger that consumed the oxygen and the shadows in equal measure. You stand at the center of the room, your uniform pressed to a razor’s edge, the brass buttons of your tunic catching the erratic dance of the flames. Around you, the guests are a blur of silk and silver,...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Distant LegendThe ironwork on the palace gates had begun to rust through before the winter snows could even think of settling, a slow and silent corrosion that mirrored the decay of the institution that had commissioned me to build them, and I stood in the shadow of the portcullis with my hands stained black by the residue of the night’s labor, watching the steam rise from the ventilation grates where the...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Wistful ShowThe brass bell above the door of the Grand Hotel in Oakhaven jingled with a sound that was less a welcome and more a warning, a sharp, metallic bite that cut through the humid, stagnant air of the July evening, and you stood at the threshold, your uniform crisp and white as a bandage, your eyes fixed not on the guest who had just arrived, but on the object that sat in the center of the lobby...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
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The Pale CircusThe rain in the city of Oakhaven did not fall so much as it settled, a grey, persistent mist that clung to the cobblestones and seeped into the bones of anyone foolish enough to walk the lower streets at dusk. Elias Thorne walked those streets. He was a man composed of sharp angles and dull regrets, his coat threadbare at the elbows, his boots leaking with every step. He was a thief, though he...0 Comments 0 Shares 4 Views 0 Reviews
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