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The Distant GardenThe rain was not falling; it was being thrown, a grey sleet that stung the glass of the conservatory with the persistence of a thousand tiny accusations. You stood by the window, your hand pressed against the cold pane, feeling the vibration of the storm outside like a second heartbeat, one that was faster, more frantic, and entirely out of sync with your own. Inside, the air was thick with the...0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews
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The Pale DoorThe rain had not stopped for three days, and the mud of the valley had turned into a soup that swallowed our boots up to the ankles. I stood at the edge of the quarry, watching the water swirl in the dark pool at the bottom, while the men argued behind me. My hands were shaking, not from the cold, though the air was biting enough to freeze the breath in a man’s lungs, but from the weight of the...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
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The Golden HarborThe rain did not fall so much as it hung in the air, a suspended, viscous membrane of grey that pressed against the high, arched windows of the Blackwood estate, blurring the manicured grounds into a smear of ink and mud. Inside, the silence was not an absence of sound but a heavy, pressurized thing, a vacuum that pulled at the eardrums and settled in the marrow, thick with the scent of wet...0 Comments 0 Shares 4 Views 0 Reviews
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The Distant JourneyThe table is long enough for twenty, but only eight chairs are occupied. The air is thick with the scent of roasted pheasant and beeswax candles. You sit at the head, though you are not the head. You are the guest of honor, a title bestowed by men who do not know the weight of your hands. The candlelight flickers, casting long, dancing shadows that seem to stretch toward you, hungry and alive....0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
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The Faded RuinThe fog does not drift here; it stands. It is a solid, gray wall that presses against the windows of the High Tower, obscuring the horizon and erasing the sun, leaving you in a perpetual, bruised twilight. You are not a king, nor a wizard, though you wear the robes of the Order and sit at the head of the long table where the lesser scribes tremble with the cold. You are only Elias, the Keeper...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
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The Golden VisitThe tower did not burn; it dissolved, a sudden and catastrophic unwinding of stone and mortar that turned the sky the color of a bruised plum, and you stood in the courtyard of the Citadel of Aethelgard, watching your armor rust into red powder in the space of a single, held breath, the metal flakes drifting down like snow that had forgotten how to melt, while the air tasted of ozone and the...0 Comments 0 Shares 3 Views 0 Reviews
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The Wistful CampusThe rain does not fall on the town of Oakhaven; it haunts it, a persistent, spectral mist that clings to the ivy-choked brick of the university buildings and seeps into the marrow of anyone who dares to walk its wet, cobblestoned paths, turning the air into a thick, breathable soup of decay and old secrets. You are standing at the edge of the quad, your fingers white-knuckled around the strap...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
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The Wistful WitnessThe rain did not fall; it hovered, a fine, grey mist that clung to the skin like a second, colder layer of flesh. Thomas Bradshaw stood at the edge of the precipice, the ground beneath his boots soft and yielding, a mossy spongy thing that swallowed the sound of his breath. In his hands, he held the object. It was a ceramic bowl, blue and white, glazed with a pattern of willow branches that had...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
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The Faded MasqueradeThe bell tolled seven times before the first body fell. It was a heavy sound. It hung in the air of the great hall. Then the ceiling cracked. Dust rained down. The chandeliers swung. Thomas stood by the pillar. He watched the stone shatter. He did not run. He had seen war before. He knew the sound of things breaking. He knew the weight of stone. His left hand hung at his side. It was stiff. It...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
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