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The Faded FrontierThe coat was wool, heavy and the color of dried blood, though the rust had long since leached into a dull, mournful brown. It hung on the back of a chair in my study, a place of dust motes dancing in the slanting afternoon light, and I watched it with the same fixed, desperate attention a man might give to a dying star. It was my father’s coat, or rather, it was the coat that had worn my father...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Wistful WitnessThe road to the capital is long. It is wet. You walk. Your boots sink in the mud. The mud is black. It smells of rot. You carry a sword. It is heavy. It is dull. You are a guard. You are tired. You think of Elise. Her name is a stone in your mouth. You chew it. It does not dissolve. You remember the smell of her hair. It was lavender. It was gone now. She was gone. You reach the gate. The gates...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Wistful ThroneThe rain drummed a relentless, industrial rhythm against the high, narrow windows of the observation deck, a sound that had long since ceased to be mere weather and had instead become a physical weight, pressing against the glass and, by extension, against the back of my skull. I sat in the corner of the dimly lit room, my hands resting on my knees, and I focused all my attention on the left...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Faded ShieldThe wind did not howl. It whispered. It scraped against the stone with the patience of a rusting hinge. Inside the tower, the air was thick, tasting of iron and old dust. Silas stood in the center of the room. He was not a man, not anymore. He had been a knight, once. Now he was a thing of memory and moss. His armor was fused to his skin. The metal had grown over him like bark, heavy and cold....0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Wistful ShowThe sky splits open. Not with thunder, but with a silence so loud it shatters the glass in the high-rise windows. You feel it in your teeth first. A vibration. A hum. The air turns to lead. You are standing on the roof of the Kessler Tower, the wind whipping your tactical jacket, but you do not move. You do not blink. The city below is a circuit board of light, dead and waiting. Your name is...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Golden SongThe sky broke open on a Tuesday, which is a detail I should have remembered, but I didn’t, not until the water started to climb the stairs of the house we’d built with our own hands, the house that smelled of wet oak and the sharp, metallic tang of the iron pots hanging in the kitchen. It wasn’t rain, not exactly. It was a thick, golden syrup, viscous and heavy, that coated the windows and...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Distant BladeYou wake up wearing the coat. It is not your coat. The wool is heavy, dark as a bruise, and it smells of iron and old rain. You are standing in the mud of the town square, the cobblestones slick under your boots. The air is thick, foggy, tasting of coal smoke and something sweeter, rotting. You know this feeling. You have felt it before, in dreams that felt more real than the waking world. You...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Faded PhotographThe ink had not dried on the parchment when the first arrow struck the shield, a sharp thud that vibrated through my bones and into the hollow of my chest where my father’s heartbeat used to be, a rhythm I had spent three years trying to drown out with the smell of wet wool and the bitter tang of old iron. I stood in the narrow pass of the Grey Wood, the mist so thick it felt like breathing in...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Wistful AtlasThe banquet hall smelled of roasted goose and stale sweat. It was a smell that clung to the back of the throat, a thick, cloying layer that no amount of sherry could wash away. Captain Elias Thorne stood by the window, his uniform a rigid shell around his body. The buttons were brass, bright and cold. They caught the light from the chandelier, a harsh, yellow glare that seemed to burn holes in...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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