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The Wistful ThroneThe mud was the first thing to give way, a thick, sucking black paste that swallowed the iron-shod boots of Commander Elias Thorne and the men of the Ninth Legionary Cohort as they pushed through the dense, fog-choked undergrowth of the Blackwood, a stretch of ancient forest that the maps of the Empire marked only as a void, a place where the rules of law dissolved into the howling wind and the...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
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The Wistful CipherThe rain did not fall so much as it invaded, a cold, gray curtain that erased the line between the asphalt and the sky, turning the highway into a slick, black river of mud and memory. You stood at the edge of the guardrail, your boots sinking into the wet gravel, watching the taillights bleed red into the distance. It had been three years since you last felt the weight of a service weapon in...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Golden RitualThe rain tapped against the reinforced glass of the observation window, a steady, rhythmic percussion that did nothing to dampen the cold dread pooling in David Halloway’s stomach. He stood alone in the sterile white room, the hum of the ventilation system the only sound besides his own heavy breathing. He was a man built for order, for the clear lines of duty, yet for the past six hours, the...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Distant NightmareThe seal is heavy. It sits in my palm. Cold. Lead. Grey. It has been here for forty years. I am old now. My hands shake. The shake is in the bone. It is not fear. It is time. Time eats the muscle. Time eats the nerve. I hold the seal. It is a square of lead. Stamped with a star. The star has five points. The points are sharp. The metal is dull. I am a sheriff. Not anymore. I am a ghost. In a...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Golden HarborThe fog rolled in from the harbor like a living thing, thick and gray, swallowing the masts of the ships one by one. I stood on the wet stone of the pier, my uniform soaked through to the skin. The cold bit into my bones. It was the year 1892, or perhaps 1912. Time had become a slippery, wet thing here. It did not matter. I was Captain Elias Thorne. I was also the man in the mirror. And I was...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Pale TowerThe rain did not fall so much as it descended, a heavy, grey curtain that erased the boundaries between the cobblestones and the gutters of the old industrial district. I stood under the awning of a defunct textile mill, watching the water pool around my boots, the sound of the downpour a constant, drowning hiss that seemed to come from inside my own skull. It was the kind of weather that made...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Golden MirrorI woke with the taste of iron on my tongue. The air in the room was cold. It bit my cheeks. I looked at the window. The glass was dark. The city slept outside. But the city was not silent. A low hum vibrated in the walls. It was the sound of the Great Loom. It never stopped. I sat up. My heart beat fast. I wore a white shirt. It was thin. I could feel the cold through it. I looked at my hands....0 Comments 0 Shares 3 Views 0 Reviews
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The Faded RuinThe dream was of teeth. Not human teeth, but the jagged, iron-crowned molars of a mill. They ground slowly in the dark. Margaret woke with the taste of rust in her mouth. The air in the room was still. It held the scent of coal dust and old wool. She sat up. The sheets were cool. Outside, the town of Oakhaven slept under a gray blanket of soot. She went to the window. The glass was thick. It...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Pale BonsaiThe rain does not fall here; it rises. It climbs from the gray, wet cobblestones of the Street of Forgotten Duties, spiraling upward into a sky that has no sun, only a thick, bruised ceiling of low-hanging mist that smells of ozone and old copper. You are walking, or perhaps you are being walked, for the legs beneath your uniform seem to move with a momentum of their own, a mechanical...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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