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The Wistful CrossroadsThe rain did not fall here; it hung. It suspended itself in the air like a curtain of wet glass, blurring the edges of the stone keep until the world outside the window was a smear of grey and green. I stood in the center of the courtyard, my hands bound by iron bands that bit into the skin of my wrists. The metal was cold. It was a specific kind of cold, the kind that seeped through bone and...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
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The Faded MasqueradeThe fog rolled in from the river. Thick. White. Suffocating. It swallowed the streetlamps. It swallowed the shop windows. It swallowed us. I tightened my grip on the revolver. My hand shook. Not from fear. From cold. From the weight of the gun. Heavy iron. Cold steel. "Stay behind me," I said. My voice was a scrape. Dry. "Is it out there?" Eleanor asked. She was trembling. Her fingers were...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
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The Golden QuestYou are walking. The road is wet. The rain is cold. It soaks your shirt. It sticks to your skin. You do not stop. You cannot stop. You have a bag. It is heavy. It clinks. What is in the bag? Gold. Yes. Gold. Shiny gold. It looks like dirt. It looks like mud. But it shines. You see it in the dark. You see it in the rain. You hold it tight. Your hands hurt. Your fingers bleed. You do not care....0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
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The Distant CrownThe rain had not stopped for three days, a relentless, gray curtain that blurred the edges of the world outside the reinforced concrete walls of Sector 4. You sat at your desk, the surface cold and damp beneath your palms, watching the water bead and slide down the windowpane in slow, agonizing rivulets. The air in the room was thick with the smell of wet wool and stale coffee, a scent that had...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
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The Wistful CrossroadsThe rain in the city did not fall so much as it settled, a grey, persistent mist that clung to the brickwork of the old district and seeped into the marrow of anyone who stood beneath the eaves of the library. Elias Thorne stood there, his coat heavy with dampness, his hands tucked deep into pockets that held nothing but the cold. He was not a man who fit easily into the geometry of the modern...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
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The Faded AtticThe rain fell in sheets of grey. Caleb walked. His boots were heavy. Leather. Stiff. The mud sucked at them. Each step was a struggle. The air tasted of iron. Of old blood. Of ozone. He carried no sword. He carried a coat. It was a long coat. Black wool. Torn at the hem. It hung from his shoulders like a shroud. It was heavy with water. And with memory. He was a warrior. Or so the world said....0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
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The Pale BonsaiThe wall cracked first. Then the light died. I stood in the center of the atrium. Dust fell like snow. My helmet was on. My visor was up. The air tasted of copper and old paper. This was the Bureau of Historical Preservation. Sector Four. Sub-basement. We called it the Vault. It was not a vault. It was a grave. My name is Silas. I am a Senior Archivist. I am also a man who has forgotten how to...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
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The Wistful GridThe heavy wool coat hung in the center of the room, suspended from a brass hook that had long since lost its shine to the damp air of the archive. It was a garment of profound dignity, cut wide and deep in the shoulders, the fabric a thick, charcoal gray tweed that had once repelled the sleet of a hundred winters. Now, however, the elbows were thin, the fabric worn through to a translucent mesh...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
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The Golden DowntownThe town of Oakhaven did not celebrate the harvest with fireworks or parades, but with a silence so thick it felt like wool pressed against the ears. It was a quiet that had settled over the community three days prior, a heavy, expectant hush that followed the arrival of the Grey Figure. No one could say exactly when the figure had first appeared, only that it was there, standing at the edge of...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
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