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The Distant JourneyThe clock in the municipal archive did not tick. It hummed, a low, electric drone that seemed to vibrate in the fillings of my teeth, a sound that had become the baseline of my existence in the city of Oakhaven. Oakhaven was not a modern place, despite the glass towers that pierced the smog; it was a city built on a legend, a myth so old it had fossilized into stone and statute. We did not live...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Distant MachineThe rain has been falling on the slate roof of the Blackwood Estate for three days, a relentless, rhythmic drumming that sounds less like water and more like the slow, grinding teeth of a machine that has forgotten how to stop, and I sit here in the dim, amber glow of the gaslight, writing to you from the study where the air is thick with the scent of old paper, damp wool, and the metallic tang...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Faded RootThe rain fell in sheets of grey sludge. It hammered the cobblestones of the old quarter. The air smelled of wet wool and rot. Elias Thorne walked with a heavy step. His boots were soaked through. He carried a satchel. Inside was a ledger. The paper was thin. The ink was black. It recorded the names of the dead. Not all dead. Only those who had forgotten to leave. He was a Collector. A title...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Faded RoadThe rain did not fall. It hovered. A thick, grey mist clung to the stone walls of the Keep, dampening the air until every breath tasted of wet iron and old decay. Sir Elias stood alone in the center of the great hall. The torches sputtered, their flames low and weak, casting long, trembling shadows that seemed to reach for him. He was still. He had been still for a long time. His armor, once...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
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The Faded RoadThe glass shattered. Not with a bang, but with a sigh, a long, trembling exhalation that filled the drawing room with a cloud of glittering dust. Margaret stood in the center of the room, her hands raised, palms out, as if she had just pushed away a ghost. The mirror on the wall was gone. In its place, the wallpaper peeled back in long, brown strips, revealing the dark, wet rot of the house...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Golden OathThe seal is warm in your palm. Wax. Red. It smells of pine resin and old blood. You hold it up to the torchlight. The lion’s face is cracked. A fissure runs from its left eye to its chin. You have carried this seal for three days. It is the only thing you own. The castle of Blackwood is not a home. It is a machine. Stone gears. Iron teeth. The air tastes of dust and iron filings. You are Sir...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Pale MistThe rain did not fall so much as it hung, a suspended veil of grey water that blurred the horizon into a smear of mud and decay, and within this wet, weeping silence, Elias Thorne stood with his back against the cold, slick bark of an ancient oak, his breath coming in short, ragged bursts that misted and vanished in the chilled air. He was not a man of war, not in the way that the men in their...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Wistful MirrorThe rain did not fall so much as it stood, a thick, grey curtain that blurred the iron gates of the fortress and turned the cobblestones into a mirror of the sky, a sky that had forgotten how to brighten, and Elias Thorne stood at the center of the training yard, his boots sinking into the mud, feeling the cold seep through the soles and up into his shins, a sensation that was both painful and...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Distant BladeI woke with the taste of iron in my mouth. It was a thick, rusty tang, coating my tongue and throat. I tried to spit, but the saliva came back red. I looked down. My hands were stained. The blood was dark, almost black in the dim light of the room. I looked at my palms. They were smooth. No cuts. No bruises. But the red was there. It seeped into the whorls of my fingerprints. I stared at it....0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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