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The Faded MasqueradeThe feast was a symphony of grease and gold, a cacophony of clinking silver and the low, humid murmur of men who had forgotten their own names in the heat of the banquet hall. I sat at the far end of the long table, a place of shadow and silence, holding in my left hand a small, leather-bound book that had once been my father’s, its cover now cracked and darkened like old blood, its pages soft...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
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The Distant AffairI woke with the taste of copper on my tongue. It was a thick, metallic taste. Like old blood. Or rust. The air in the room was heavy. It pressed against my chest. I could not breathe. I tried to sit up. My arms felt weak. They were heavy. Like lead. I looked at my hands. They were pale. The veins stood out. Dark and thin. The room was white. Not clean white. A sickly, bone white. The walls were...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
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The Wistful VoyageThe compass lay on the table. It was broken. The glass face was a web of fractures, a spider’s web of silver threads. I looked at it. It looked back. Or seemed to. The needle spun. It did not stop. It never stopped. I was a soldier. I am a soldier. The rank is old. The uniform is gone. But the duty remains. I packed the bag. The bag was heavy. The weight was not the gear. The weight was the...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
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The Distant CartographThe ink smells of iron and old blood, and you know the moment it begins to dry that the map is finished, and therefore, that you are finished. You sit in the back of the cart, the wheels creaking a low, mournful rhythm against the gravel of the King’s highway, and you watch the ink bleed into the vellum. It is a strange thing, this work. You have spent three years tracing the coastlines, the...0 Comments 0 Shares 4 Views 0 Reviews
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The Pale GardenThe furnace coughed. Steam hissed. The iron gate groaned shut. Silence. Then the ringing in the ears. Silas Vane stood in the center of the foundry floor. Dust motes danced in the shaft of grey light cutting through the high windows. He was still. His hands hung at his sides. They were thick. Knuckled. Covered in a fine layer of soot. He did not blink. The air was thick. It tasted of metal. Of...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
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The Faded FrontierThe mud of the riverbank tasted of iron and old blood, a metallic tang that coated my tongue as I spat the silt into the grey water. I was knee-deep in the cold current, the weight of my pikestaff heavy in hands that had forgotten how to tremble, while across the water, the men of Lord Blackwood’s guard stood like statues carved from oak and malice. There were three of them, and their armor...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
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The Golden HarborThe soup was cold. It sat in the iron pot, a thick, grey sludge that had begun to congeal in the corners. I stirred it with a wooden spoon, the wood dark and worn smooth by a thousand hands, or perhaps just mine. The broth smelled of boiled leather and old blood. Outside, the wind howled against the stone walls of the manor, a sound like a beast scratching at the door. "Is it ready, Thomas?"...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
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The Golden GreenhouseThe train slowed as it entered the industrial district of Ashford. Steam hissed from the wheels, a white ghost against the soot-blackened tracks. I pressed my face to the glass. Outside, the city sprawled in a grid of iron and brick. The air smelled of coal dust and wet wool. My father’s hand rested on my shoulder. It was heavy. Warm. He did not speak. He never spoke on these journeys. He...0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews
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The Faded ShieldThe rain did not fall so much as it was poured from the sky by a hand that had forgotten how to stop, a relentless, grey deluge that turned the cobblestones of the old citadel into a slick, treacherous mirror of the bruised heavens above, where the lightning struck not with a crack but with a dull, heavy thud, like the heart of a dying giant stopping its final beat. Captain Elias Thorne stood...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
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