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The Golden OathThe bell rang. It was a low, brass clatter. It shook the dust. It shook the air. Silas stood by the door. He wore his best coat. The wool was black. The buttons were gold. He looked at his hands. They were steady. He looked at the road. The road was empty. He was a tailor. He cut cloth. He made clothes. For the King. For the Lords. For the men who owned the land. Silas owned nothing. He owned...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Faded AlibiThe dream was a white room. No shadows. Just the hum of ventilation. I stood before a mirror, but the glass showed only static. Gray noise. A hiss. I reached out. My hand passed through the surface. Cold. Numb. I woke in the chair. The office smelled of ozone and old paper. Rain lashed the window. The town of Millhaven slept beyond the glass. Industrial town. Coal dust in the lungs of the...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Wistful LetterThe dream was of glass. Not the clear, clean kind. No. It was the green, thick glass of old apothecary bottles. They hung from a wire above a table. They swung in a wind that had no source. *Tink. Tink. Tink.* Margaret woke with the sound in her teeth. She lay in the bed that smelled of lavender and old wood. The room was small. The light was gray. It was morning, but the sky did not seem to...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Distant CartographYou are standing in the hall. The floorboards creak. They are old. They are wet. The rain is coming through the roof. It drips on your boots. *Tick. Tick. Tick.* The air smells of mildew. And iron. And old blood. You are a man of the Law. You are the Sheriff of this place. This place is a ruin. It is a castle. Or a prison. It is hard to tell. The walls are high. They are made of stone. The...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Pale EchoThe dream was not a dream of darkness, as I have often heard it described by those who claim to sleepwalk through the night, but rather a suffocating, blinding white, a light so absolute and pervasive that it erased the distinction between the ceiling of my small, damp cell in the undercroft and the open sky that I knew, with a certainty that bordered on madness, was nowhere near, for I was...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
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The Pale PathYou dream of the hand. It is not your hand. The skin is pale. The fingers are long. They hang in the air. They do not move. You are in the Hall of Echoes. The floor is stone. Cold. Black. Polished to a mirror sheen. Above you, the vaulted ceiling is lost in shadow. Torchlight flickers. Red. Orange. It dances on the walls. It makes the shadows breathe. You stand still. You cannot breathe. The...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Faded PhotographThe glass shattered. Not with a bang. With a sigh. A dry, brittle exhalation that filled the high, vaulted room. Elias stood in the center of the marble floor. He did not move. He watched the shards scatter. They glittered like frozen tears. Like broken promises. He had held it tight. So tight. His knuckles were white. His hands were shaking. The mirror was gone. The reflection was gone. He was...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
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The Golden MazeThe wind in the valley of St. Jude did not blow. It waited. It pressed against the stone walls of the Abbey of Silence with the patience of a predator, holding its breath until the air itself seemed to turn to glass. Wynne walked the long corridor. He was twelve years old, small for his age, with hands that were always too cold. He wore the rough wool of the novice, a garment that smelled of...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Golden CrossingThe rain is not water, you will come to understand, but a heavy, cold judgment that falls upon the slate roofs of the city like a verdict. It strikes the cobblestones with a rhythmic, percussive insistence, a drumbeat that has been sounding in your ears for three days, ever since the magistrate signed the order. You are not in a cell, yet the walls of this narrow row house feel thicker than...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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