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The Distant CrownThe air in the Great Hall of Aethelgard was thick with the scent of roasted boar and stale ale, a cloying sweetness that sat heavy on the tongue like a secret too large to swallow. We were gathered there, the remnants of the King’s guard, our armor dented and dark with the blood of men we had killed and men who had killed us, sitting on benches that groaned under the weight of our exhaustion....0 Comments 0 Shares 9 Views 0 Reviews
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The Faded RoadThe coat hung on the back of the chair. It was a heavy thing, wool and dark green, smelling of damp earth and old tobacco. I touched the sleeve. The fabric was rough against my palm. It had been my father’s coat. Then it was mine. Now it was nothing but cloth. I stood in the center of the room. The walls were high. The air was still. There was no wind. Only the hum of the ventilation system, a...0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews
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The Pale GardenThe banquet hall of the St. Jude’s Psychiatric Institute did not smell of perfume or fresh linen, but of old dust, damp wool, and the metallic tang of fear that seemed to seep up from the floorboards. Margaret Holloway stood at the edge of the room, her hand resting lightly on the cold brass railing of the balcony, watching the sea of faces below. It was a masquerade, technically, though no one...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
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The Wistful CrossroadsThe marrow of my left knee had begun to sing a low, grinding note before I ever understood that the Palace of the Eternal Spring was not a place, but a condition. It was a condition of the bone, a calcified ache that lived in the joint and dictated the rhythm of my steps, a percussion that marked time more faithfully than any clock in the sprawling, glass-walled atrium where the Ministry of...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
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The Wistful AshesThe air in the Foundry tasted of copper and ozone, a metallic tang that coated the back of Elias’s throat. He stood on the gantry, his hands resting on the cold railing, watching the smoke rise from the city below. It was not smoke, not truly. It was the exhaled breath of the machine, the grey, swirling vapor that kept the sky from turning black. Elias was a Keeper, one of the few who still...0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews
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The Faded MasqueradeThe rain did not fall so much as it struck the slate roof of the Blackwood estate with a rhythmic, percussive violence that seemed to vibrate through the very stones of the floor beneath Commander Elias Thorne’s boots. He stood in the center of the grand hall, his left hand gripping the pommel of a sword that had seen better centuries, his right hand clutching the hilt of a pistol that felt...0 Comments 0 Shares 3 Views 0 Reviews
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The Distant SummerThe mud sucked at my boots. It was thick. It was black. It smelled of iron and rot. I held the rifle tight. My knuckles were white. The sound was a constant roar. It was not a sound. It was a pressure. It pushed against my eardrums. It pushed against my mind. I was Sergeant Elias Thorne. I wore the grey uniform. It was stained. The stain was deep. It would not wash out. I knew that. I had seen...0 Comments 0 Shares 3 Views 0 Reviews
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The Wistful DinnerThe table was long. It stretched into the dark, like a tongue. You sat at the end. Not the head. Never the head. You were a clerk. A scribe. You held the pen. You held the spoon. You held the truth, though no one asked for it. The King ate first. He was a large man. His plate was empty. Yet he ate more. The meat vanished. The wine vanished. The air around him grew thick. It smelled of copper....0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
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The Golden CrossingThe sword broke against the stone. It did not shatter. It snapped. A clean, dry sound. Like a bone giving way. Maren stood in the courtyard. The mud was deep. It sucked at her boots. Around her, the King’s men held their halberds. They did not move. They watched. The rain fell in thin, cold sheets. It mixed with the blood on her hands. She looked at the broken hilt. The gold leaf was peeling...0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews
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