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The Golden MasterYou drive the sedan through the fog, the wipers beating a frantic, mechanical rhythm against the glass that seems to hold the world at bay. The road is slick with rain, a mirror of dark water reflecting the dim, pulsing headlights of the vehicle behind you. You are driving home, or rather, you are driving toward the only place that has ever felt like home, the sprawling, silent manor on the...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
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The Pale GardenYou wake in the throat of a dream that does not belong to you. The air is thick, tasting of wet stone and ancient rot, a heavy medium that presses against your lungs with the weight of centuries. You are not alone. You are in the courtyard of a fortress that exists only in the liminal space between waking and sleep, a place where the laws of physics have surrendered to the dictates of memory....0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
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The Distant AffairThe iron lantern had not been lit in three weeks. It sat on the heavy oak table in the center of the hall, its ironwork cold and dull, the glass panes clouded with a mist that seemed to originate from within the metal itself rather than the air outside. Seraphina, the keeper of the watch, stood before it, her hands resting on the rough-hewn wood of the table, feeling the vibration of the...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
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The Golden CrossingIn the dream, the stone did not weep, but it remembered every drop of rain that had ever struck its face. You are standing before the Great Hall, a structure of such immense and terrible weight that the air around it feels thickened, viscous, as if the atmosphere itself has solidified in respect for the masonry. The Hall is not merely a building; it is a living organ of the state, a monolithic...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
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The Distant JokeThe ale was thick, dark as the soil of the graveyard, and it tasted of iron and regret. "Do you believe it, brother?" asked Thomas, his voice a low rasp that seemed to scrape against the rough wood of the table. He leaned forward, his eyes bright with a feverish intensity that belied his gaunt frame. "They say the King’s men are coming. They say he has found a cure. A tincture made from the...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
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The Wistful WitnessYou stand in the rain. It is cold. The stone is wet. You are the Warden. You wear the cloak of the Order. It is heavy. It smells of damp wool and old blood. The castle is silent. You are alone. This is the beginning. You hold the bowl. It is clay. It is cracked. Inside is the Porridge. It is gray. It is thick. It is the Ration. You do not eat. You wait. The door opens. Thomas enters. He is your...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
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The Pale ProtocolI dreamt of the seal again. It was a small thing, a square of lead, no larger than a thumbprint. It sat in the palm of my hand, cold and heavy, etched with a symbol that looked like a cross bisected by a single, jagged line. In the dream, the air was thick with the smell of sulfur and old paper. I could not move. I could not breathe. I could only hold the seal, feeling its edges cut into the...0 Comments 0 Shares 4 Views 0 Reviews
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The Wistful SagaThe bell rang. It was the iron voice of the city, cold and absolute. I stood at my post on the high wall of Ashworth Gate. The stone was wet. My boots were wet. The mud sucked at my heels with a sound like a slow breath. I held my spear. The wood was dark. The steel head was dull. It had not been polished in weeks. We were told the polish was a vanity. We were told the duty was enough. The mist...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
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The Faded QuadrantThe tower stood alone. It was made of stone. Old stone. Grey and cold. It pierced the sky. It had no door. It had no windows. It was a pillar. A monument. A cage. Elias stood at the base. He was tall. He was broad. His armor was dull. His sword was sheathed. He looked up. He looked at the sky. The sky was dark. The stars were out. They were cold. He had come here. He had walked all day. His...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
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