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The Golden HarborThe iron lantern swung on its chain, a dark pendulum marking the time in the empty hall. We had gathered for the feast, though there was no food on the table, only the cold residue of a hundred past celebrations. The air tasted of dust and old wax. I stood by the hearth, my hand resting on the hilt of the sword at my hip. It was not a weapon of war, not truly. It was a key. And the lock was my...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Pale DoorThe rain did not fall so much as it hovered, a suspended curtain of gray mist that turned the streets of Millhaven into slick, black ribbons stretching out toward the distant, fog-choked hills. Elias walked, not because he had to, but because his legs remembered the rhythm of a journey his mind had long since abandoned. He was a creature of the town’s edges, a man who lived in the spaces...0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews
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The Faded GuestThe rain hit the pavement in hard, gray sheets. Elias stood on the corner. His knuckles were white. He held his umbrella. It bent under the wind. The street smelled of wet asphalt and old paper. Inside the glass building, the lights were on. They burned flat and white. No shadows. No warmth. Just light. Elias watched the doors. A man in a suit walked out. He looked at Elias. He did not stop. He...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Golden FarceThe fog sits heavy on the moors. It tastes of iron and wet wool. You are in the house. The house is old. The house is sick. You feel it in your bones. The damp crawls under the floorboards. It climbs the walls. It whispers in the eaves. You ignore it. You have ignored it for years. You are Eleanor. You are the mistress of this decaying estate. You are alone. Or so you think. The fire dies in...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Distant MetropolisThe air in the archive room was thick with the dust of centuries, a suspended galaxy of gray motes that drifted in the single shaft of light piercing the high, narrow window. I sat at the long oak table, the surface worn smooth by the elbows of inquisitors and judges who had passed before me, their names carved into the wood like scars. My hands, spotted with the early maples of age, rested...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Distant AffairYou are standing in the center of the Great Hall, and the air tastes of copper and crushed lavender. The floor beneath your boots is polished to a mirror sheen, reflecting the chandelier above, which burns with a light that is less illumination and more a physical weight, pressing down on your shoulders. You are a soldier, though you have not carried a rifle in years. Your uniform is...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
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The Faded BouquetThe rain did not fall so much as it invaded the valley, a cold, persistent mist that clung to the wool of Elias Thorne’s coat and seeped into the marrow of his bones. He walked the narrow, unmarked path that wound through the dense, ancient pines, his breath coming in short, ragged bursts that vanished into the grey air before they could form words. There was no destination in mind, only the...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
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The Golden EchoesYou sit in the high chair. The wood is cold. It bites through the thin wool of your gown. You are the Queen. Or so they say. The court whispers. The air is thick with the scent of old beeswax and rotting lilies. You hold a letter. It is folded into a tight square. The paper is soft. It feels like skin. You do not open it. You do not need to. You know what it says. You wrote it. You are the...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
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The Faded PhotographThe mud sucks at your boots with a wet, viscous sound. It is not water. It is the earth, liquefied by the artillery that has been screaming since dawn. You feel it in your teeth, a metallic tang that tastes of rust and old blood. The sky above the trench is a bruised purple, swollen with smoke and the distant, rhythmic thumping of the guns. It sounds like a heartbeat. A slow, dying heartbeat....0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
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