0 Comments
0 Shares
0 Views
0 Reviews
Directory
Discover new ideas, create new connections and make new friends
-
Please log in to like, share and comment!
-
The Faded ParadoxThe ink on your fingers does not wash away. It settles into the whorls of your skin, a permanent stain that marks you as a maker of words, a shaper of truth, and, in the cold eyes of the High Court, a forger of lies. You sit in the chamber of the Archivist, a room that smells of dried lavender and old dust, the heavy oak door barred against the world outside. Here, in the heart of the Citadel,...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale GardenYou are standing on the precipice of the old estate, the wind whipping your hair into your eyes, the air thick with the scent of rotting lilies and the distant, metallic tang of rain that has not yet fallen. It is a night of such profound stillness that the silence feels less like an absence of sound and more like a physical weight pressing against your eardrums, a suffocating embrace that...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale LetterThe orchid was a ghost of white, its petals thin as parchment, trembling in the stagnant air of the glasshouse. Elara Vane stood before it, her hands clasped tightly at her waist, watching the slow, inevitable curl of a single petal. It was a sign. In the old ways, in the lineage of women who had walked these hallowed, suffocating halls, the death of the white orchid meant the death of the...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant JourneyThe iron gate is cold. It has always been cold. You press your palm against the rusted bars, feeling the grit of the city’s decay under your nails. The fog rolls in from the river, thick and gray, swallowing the streetlamps one by one. You are here because you must be. You are here because the debt is owed. The debt is not money. It is life. It is breath. It is the right to stand under the open...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden DowntownThe fluorescent lights of the precinct hummed with a frequency that seemed to vibrate directly inside your molars, a low, constant thrum that masked the silence of the empty bullpen. It was late, the kind of late where the shadows in the corners of the room stretched long and thin like dried taffy, and the only sound was the rhythmic clacking of the single keyboard being typed by the night...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant ThresholdThe dream has no horizon, only a vertical drop of pale, sterile light that feels less like illumination and more like an absence of shadow, a blinding void where the geometry of the world has been stripped away to its bare, trembling bone. You are standing on the edge of this nothingness, your boots sinking into a substance that is not dirt but a thick, viscous slurry of white petals, crushed...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant AffairThe rain had not stopped for three days, a ceaseless, gray curtain that turned the cobblestones of the old walled city into a slick, treacherous mirror. In the uppermost chamber of the Ironkeep, a structure that had stood since the reign of kings who no longer had names, Thomas Bradshaw sat in the dim light, his back straight against the cold stone. He was a man of few words and harder bone, a...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden DowntownThe seal on the envelope was not wax, but a square of hardened resin, stamped with the insignia of the Bureau. It sat on the cold steel of the desk like a dead insect. Elias Thorne held it between his thumb and forefinger, feeling the faint grit of the residue against his skin. He had been waiting for this. For weeks, the air in the office had grown thick, a pressure that sat behind the eyes...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Wistful ThroneThe carriage wheels bit into the gravel, a rhythmic grinding that sounded like the grinding of old bones. Thomas Ashworth sat by the window, his hands resting on his knees, stiff and pale as parchment. He was leaving the estate, the house that had held him for forty years, to return to the university where his chair waited, empty and cold. It was a departure, but it felt less like a leaving and...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
Arabic
French
Spanish
Portuguese
Deutsch
Turkish
Dutch
Italiano
Russian
Romaian
Portuguese (Brazil)
Greek