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The Golden SongThe rain had not stopped for three days. It drummed against the slate roof of the cell, a relentless, gray rhythm that matched the beating of Thomas’s heart. He sat on the straw, his knees drawn to his chest. In his lap lay the object that had condemned him. It was a cloak, heavy wool dyed the color of dried blood. It had belonged to his friend, Julian. Or rather, it had belonged to the man...0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews
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The Pale MistThe iron crown sat heavy. Not on my head. On my hand. It was a ring. A plain band of blackened steel. Cold. I looked at it. I looked at the King. He did not look back. He was busy. He was counting his gold. "Speak," he said. His voice was dry. Like old leaves. I opened my mouth. No sound came. I looked at the floor. The tiles were white. They were stained with blood. Old blood. Black. I looked...0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews
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The Golden EchoesYou are standing in the humming blue light of the server room, the air thick with the smell of ozone and stale coffee, and your right hand is trembling so violently that you cannot keep it steady against the cold steel of the rack, the vibration traveling up through your knuckles and into your jaw, making your teeth chatter in a rhythm that matches the low, thrumming drone of the cooling fans...0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews
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The Pale DoorThe fluorescent lights of the Department of Anomalous Records did not hum so much as they breathed, a low, electric exhalation that seemed to synchronize with the frantic, thudding rhythm of my own heart, which had begun to race not from fear of the supernatural entities that haunted the sub-basement archives, but from the terrifying, visceral realization that I was no longer the man who had...0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews
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The Wistful PetalThe hall smelled of wet wool and expensive perfume. It was a smell that clung to the nose, a heavy, cloying scent that suggested something rotting beneath the surface. Margaret stood at the edge of the room, her hands clasped tightly in front of her. She was the Head of Botany at the university, a position that usually afforded her a certain quiet dignity. Here, in the glass-walled atrium of...0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews
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The Golden SongThe road was wet. You walked. The mud sucked at your boots. You are not human. You know this. They know this too. But they do not see you. They see only the clothes. They see the coat. They see the hat. They see the face. They do not see the inside. The inside is glass. It is thin. It is cold. It is cracking. You held it in your left hand. The shard. It was gold. It was small. It was warm. It...0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews
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The Pale PathThe shrapnel took Elias Vane’s left hand at the wrist. It happened in the dark. The tunnel shook. Dust fell like snow. He felt the pop. Not a sound. A sensation. Like a bone snapping in his mouth. He looked down. The arm was gone. The blood was black. It pulsed in time with his heart. He was a soldier. He knew how to bleed. He did not know how to lose a limb. He crawled. The floor was slick...0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews
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The Distant ThresholdThe feast was a riot of salted pork and dark bread, a communal table stretched out under the low, soot-stained rafters of the manor house, where the air smelled of wet wool and the sharp, metallic tang of old blood. Cael sat at the edge of the long bench, his hands resting on his knees, watching the steam rise from the tureen as if it were a ghost he could not quite grasp. He was twelve years...0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews
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The Distant AffairThe rain has been falling on the ridge of the Appalachian foothills for three days now, a ceaseless, grey curtain that blurs the line between the earth and the sky, until the world feels less like a place with physical dimensions and more like a bruise that is slowly, painfully expanding under the skin of the continent, and you stand at the center of it, your uniform soaked through to the bone,...0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews
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