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 Pale AltarYou drive north. The highway stretches like a scar across the gray fields. It is late autumn. The leaves are gone. The branches are bare black sticks against the white sky. You hold the wheel. Your hands are steady. They have always been steady. You are a clerk. You fill out forms. You stamp documents. You do not feel much. You do not show much. You are invisible. This is your life. The radio...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden CrossingThe sword in Elowen’s hand was not steel, but a shard of frozen breath, brittle and singing with a high, thin note that vibrated against her teeth. She stood in the center of the Great Hall, a cathedral of stone and starlight that had no ceiling, only the infinite, churning void of the cosmos pressing down from above. Around her, the air was thick with the scent of ozone and old parchment. Her...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale ProtocolThe vial of distilled moonlight sat on the obsidian workbench, its contents a viscous, pearlescent fluid that seemed to absorb the dim glow of the singular candle burning in the corner, creating a sphere of absolute, terrifying clarity that defied the murky, smog-choked reality of the city outside. Elias Thorne, a man whose hands were permanently stained with the indigo residue of alchemical...0 Comments 0 Shares 4 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded QuadrantThe iron was cold. Elara touched the gate. It groaned. Rust flaked like dead skin. "Stay back," said the man. He held a spear. The tip was dull. Elara looked at him. He was tall. His armor was dented. "I am here," she said. "You are a child," he said. "I am the key." He laughed. It was a dry sound. Like dry leaves. "Go home." She did not move. The wind blew. It smelled of ash. The sky was grey....0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden FarceYou sit in the dark. The room smells of dust and old paper. You are a maker of things. Small things. Brass gears. Tiny levers. You fix what is broken. Or so they say. The door opens. Light spills in. It is sharp. It cuts the air. "Mr. Ashworth," the voice says. It is smooth. Cold. "We need to talk." You do not look up. You keep working. Your hands move. They know the way. You have always known...0 Comments 0 Shares 4 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden RitualThe ink was dry. The quill was broken. I sat in the tower room, the stone cold against my back, and watched the dust motes dance in the single shaft of light. It was a fine day for dying. My friend, Thomas, stood by the door. He did not look at me. He looked at the book. "Is it done?" he asked. His voice was thin. It scraped like a blade on stone. "Yes." "And the price?" "Paid." He stepped...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant LegendThe rain had been falling for three days, a persistent, gray veil that turned the cobblestones of the royal courtyard into a slick, mirror-like expanse where the sky and the earth seemed to merge in a bruised, endless reflection. Thomas Bradshaw stood at the edge of the dais, his boots heavy with wet mud, his hands resting on the pommel of a sword that had not been drawn in years, the leather...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Wistful WitnessThe rain does not fall on the village of Oakhaven. It hovers. It hangs in the air like a gray veil, a suspended breath that refuses to land, refusing to wash the dust from the cobblestones, refusing to cleanse the sin from the stones of the keep. You know this because you are the one holding the sky up. You are Aldric. You are the jailer. You are the sinner. The cell is small. It is stone. It...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale BannerThe coffee was cold. It tasted of rust and old pennies. Elias stared at the surface. A thin film of oil floated in the center. It was the color of a bruise. He did not drink it. He watched it settle. The machine hummed. A low, sick drone. The break room smelled of burnt beans and wet wool. "You're staring at it again, Elias." The voice came from the corner. Marcus leaned against the counter. He...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
Arabic
French
Spanish
Portuguese
Deutsch
Turkish
Dutch
Italiano
Russian
Romaian
Portuguese (Brazil)
Greek