0 Comments
0 Shares
1 Views
0 Reviews
Directory
Discover new ideas, create new connections and make new friends
-
Please log in to like, share and comment!
-
The Wistful SagaThe rain did not fall so much as it was driven sideways by a wind that smelled of wet iron and rotting hay, a physical force that pressed against the stone walls of the keep until the mortar groaned in protest, a sound like the grinding of ancient teeth in a jaw that had forgotten how to close. Inside, the air was thick with the scent of damp wool, unwashed bodies, and the metallic tang of fear...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale MeridianThe great hall of the Citadel of St. Jude is a mouth that has forgotten how to swallow, a cavernous expanse of polished obsidian and bone where the air hangs thick with the scent of dried lavender and the metallic tang of old blood, and you stand in the center of it, a figure carved from the same dark stone as the pillars that flank you, your hands bound not by rope but by the sheer, crushing...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden CompassThe house stood like a broken tooth in the gum of the forest. It was old. Older than the trees. Older than the memory of the man who built it. Elias Thorne walked up the path. His boots crunched on dry leaves. He did not look back. He could not. The wind smelled of wet stone and decay. Elias was a man of questions. He asked them of the dead. He asked them of the walls. He asked them of the air....0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale BonsaiThe seed packet was blank. It always was. I found it in the dirt, half-buried in the mud of the road I had walked for three days. My boots were soaked through. The cold was a physical weight, pressing against my ribs. I picked up the packet. My fingers were black with grime. There was no name on it. No variety. Just a small, dry thing wrapped in white paper. I did not know what it was. I knew...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale CircusThe crows stayed. They sat on the wire. They watched me. I was tired. The mud was cold. It bit into my boots. I looked at the sky. It was gray. It was white. It was nothing. I walked. My name is Elias. I was a guard. I kept the peace. I kept the lines. The lines were red. They were drawn in chalk. They were drawn in blood. I did not know which. My captain was a good man. He had white hair. He...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden EchoesThe iron gauntlet sat on the oak table, cold and unyielding under the flickering tallow light, its four heavy fingers fused into a single, grotesque claw that mirrored the shape of my own hand when I flexed it in the dark. I had served the Lord Chancellor for thirty years, my life measured in the precise, rhythmic tolling of the clock tower that stood in the center of the courtyard, a...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale AltarMargaret Holloway stood at the edge of the white void. There was no horizon. No sun. Only an infinite, sterile expanse of pale light that hummed with a low, persistent frequency. It felt like the air in a hospital corridor. Clean. Cold. Ominous. She held the ledger in her hands. It was a thick, black book. Its cover was worn smooth by decades of touch. The leather was cold to the touch, yet it...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant MetropolisThe cellar smells of damp wool and old iron, a scent that has settled into the very stones of the Whitmore manor, and you sit upon a wooden stool, your hands wrapped around a clay bowl that is slowly losing its shape. The clay is cold, heavy, and resistant, slipping through your fingers like wet sand, refusing to hold the form you so desperately wish to impose upon it. You are trying to make a...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale FractureThe dream began with the sound of rain on tin. It was a sharp, percussive rhythm. *Tap. Tap. Tap.* It echoed in the narrow hallway of the old estate. Margot stood still. Her breath was shallow. She held a glass of water. It was cold. It was clear. It trembled in her hand. She was in the hall. The hall was long. The walls were high. They were painted a faded blue. The carpet was thick. It was...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
Arabic
French
Spanish
Portuguese
Deutsch
Turkish
Dutch
Italiano
Russian
Romaian
Portuguese (Brazil)
Greek