0 Comments
0 Shares
2 Views
0 Reviews
Directory
Discover new ideas, create new connections and make new friends
-
Please log in to like, share and comment!
-
The Wistful SkylineThe fog did not roll in from the harbor, as the old songs claimed, but seeped up from the cobblestones of Millhaven, a thick, grey exhalation that tasted of wet iron and forgotten centuries. Elias Thorne woke with the taste of ash on his tongue, his body aching with the specific, grinding hunger that came from going three days without a proper meal, a physical void that mirrored the hollow...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Wistful PetalThe air in the manor was thick with the scent of damp stone and the metallic tang of old blood, a smell you had learned to associate with the very walls that held your breath in check. You stood in the library, the room that served as the heart of the house, its high ceilings disappearing into the shadows where dust motes danced in the shafts of pale afternoon light that filtered through the...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant MetropolisThe rain on the glass was not water, but a slow, viscous shattering. It clung to the windows of the High Council Chamber, blurring the city below into a smear of neon and wet asphalt, a world that had lost its edges. Inside, the air was still, heavy with the scent of old wood and the sterile, cold hum of the climate control. Elias stood at the center of the room, his hands clasped behind his...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale BridgeThe rain did not fall so much as it descended, a heavy, viscous curtain of grey water that turned the cobblestones of the Highbridge precinct into a slick, mirroring floor. You stood in the center of the watchroom, the air thick with the scent of wet wool, stale tea, and the metallic tang of the iron stanchions that lined the perimeter. As the Senior Warden, your duty was not to hold the gate,...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale ExileThe frost came to Harrowgate not as a season, but as a verdict. It crept up from the river in a grey, silent tide, claiming the cobblestones, the ivy, and finally, the skin. I remember the cold because I was barefoot, standing in the center of the square where the fountain had stopped singing weeks prior. The town slept under a shroud of ice, a stillness so profound it felt less like peace and...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale BonsaiThe rain in the valley did not fall; it hovered, a persistent gray mist that clung to the wool of coats and the stone of the churchyard, eroding the boundary between the living and the dead. Elias Thorne sat in the center of his workshop, a space that smelled of damp earth, crushed sage, and the metallic tang of old blood. He was a man of fifty winters, his hands thickened by decades of working...0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden MasterThe road to the Abbey of St. Jude was long and white. It was a road of chalk and dust, cut through the heather moors of the highlands. I walked it alone. My name is Elara. I am a woman of the old blood, though the world has forgotten what that means. I carried a cloak of deep crimson. It was woven by my mother. The wool was fine. The dye was deep as a wound. It was my inheritance. It was my...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden QuestThe brick shrapnel hits your cheek before you even register the impact, a jagged tear of wet mortar and dust that mixes with the copper taste of blood on your tongue. You are on your knees in the mud of the courtyard, your hands slick with the grime of the city, and the sound of the explosion is not a roar but a sudden, violent absence of air, a hollow thud that vibrates in the marrow of your...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant WoundThe house is dying. You know this before you do. The plaster peels in long, dry strips, curling back like the skin of a dead leaf. The air inside tastes of dust and rot, a stale sweetness that clings to the back of your throat. You are Margaret. You are the keeper. You are the servant. You are the sacrifice. The walls breathe. That is the first thing you must accept. They do not breathe with...0 Comments 0 Shares 6 Views 0 Reviews
Arabic
French
Spanish
Portuguese
Deutsch
Turkish
Dutch
Italiano
Russian
Romaian
Portuguese (Brazil)
Greek