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 Golden CrossingThe banquet hall of the Aetherium did not exist on any map, yet its chandeliers burned with the cold, white fire of a star that had forgotten how to die. Elias Thorne sat at the head of the long, obsidian table, his hands folded over the silverware, feeling the weight of his rank in his bones. He was a General, or had been, in the world of asphalt and rain that he could no longer quite recall....0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale EchoThe iron pot clanged against the stone hearth with a resonance that seemed to vibrate in the marrow of Eleanor’s bones, a sound so sharp and final that it silenced the frantic scratching of the rats in the beams above. She stood there, the heavy skillet still in her hand, her knuckles white against the blackened handle, watching the last of the thick, grey smoke curl toward the vaulted ceiling...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Wistful ShowThe rain fell like iron filings, cold and heavy, striking the mud with a dull, relentless thud. "Did you see it?" I asked. My voice was a scrape of dry wood against stone. My brother turned. His eyes were wide, white-rimmed, fixed on something beyond the mist. He did not answer. He only stared. We stood in the courtyard of the keep. The stone was slick. The air smelled of wet wool and old...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden EchoesThe ink was still wet on the parchment when the first crack appeared. It ran down the center of the seal, a thin, jagged vein of white splitting the black wax. I watched it form, holding my breath, as if the sound of my own lungs might shatter the rest. The letter had been sealed by my father, Lord Ashworth, just hours before he left for the continent, never to return. He had told me, with a...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale ProtocolThe feast begins with a crash of silver on stone. You are there. You are always there. The hall is vast, a cathedral of wood and shadow, lit by a thousand candles that flicker like dying stars. The air smells of roasted pork, heavy spices, and the metallic tang of old blood. You sit at the high table, though you are not a lord. You are not a king. You are the scribe. You are the one who writes...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded FrontierThe air in the Gilded Atrium tasted of ozone and crushed lilies, a scent that clung to the back of the throat and refused to dissipate even when the doors sealed shut behind us with the heavy, finality of a coffin lid. I stood there, my shoes sinking slightly into the plush carpet that shimmered with an unnatural, iridescent sheen, watching the dust motes dance in the shafts of light that...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Wistful AsylumThe dream had no horizon, only a vast, churning gray that swallowed the sky and the earth in equal measure, a silence so absolute it pressed against the eardrums like deep water. Sir Aldous Vance woke not with a start, but with a slow, painful unfurling of his limbs, the stiffness of iron joints that had been locked in sleep for longer than a lifetime. He lay in the narrow cot within the stone...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale DanceThe soup was too hot. That was the first thing Thomas noticed, not the taste, which was a dull, metallic tang that coated the back of his throat, but the temperature, a scalding aggression that burned the soft flesh of his palate and made his eyes water. He held the chipped ceramic bowl with both hands, the steam rising in a thin, ghostly veil that obscured his face from the man sitting across...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Wistful CampusThe great hall of St. Jude’s Academy for the Orphaned and Destitute was not a place of learning, but a cavern of stone and shadow where the air hung thick with the scent of boiled cabbage, wet wool, and the distinct, metallic tang of old fear, and it was here, in the center of the long oak table that stretched like a spine across the room, that Thomas Bradshaw sat with his hands folded so...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
Arabic
French
Spanish
Portuguese
Deutsch
Turkish
Dutch
Italiano
Russian
Romaian
Portuguese (Brazil)
Greek