0 Commenti
0 condivisioni
4 Views
0 Anteprima
Elenco
Discover new ideas, create new connections and make new friends
-
Effettua l'accesso per mettere mi piace, condividere e commentare!
-
The Wistful CampusThe frost bit deep into the stone of the abbey wall. Brother Thomas stood before the choir. His knees ached. The pain was a dull, grinding thing. It lived in the joints. It whispered of old age. It whispered of the end. He was the oldest man in the house. He had served for forty years. Forty years of silence. Forty years of bread and water. The walls were cold. The air was thin. His breath...0 Commenti 0 condivisioni 0 Views 0 Anteprima
-
The Wistful AtlasThe fog in the valley of Oren did not drift; it pressed. It was a living wall of gray, thick as wool and cold as iron, swallowing the light of the dying sun. Elias Thorne stood at the edge of the border post, his boots sinking into the slush that was neither snow nor mud. He was thirty years old, a sergeant in the High Council’s border guard, and he had been here for four months. His orders...0 Commenti 0 condivisioni 0 Views 0 Anteprima
-
The Pale CircusThe rain lashed against the stained glass of St. Jude’s Hospital, blurring the world outside into a smear of grey and black, but inside, the silence was absolute and heavy. Elias Thorne stood in the main corridor, the silver locket hanging around his neck pulsing with a heat that felt less like warmth and more like a brand against his skin. He had three hours before the funeral procession for...0 Commenti 0 condivisioni 0 Views 0 Anteprima
-
The Faded RoadThe soup was cold. It sat in the ceramic bowl, a grey, gelatinous mass that had set in the shape of the pot. Arthur watched it. The surface was flat. Unmoving. He did not eat. He waited. The village of Oakhaven lay below the hill, a tangle of stone and slate, quiet under the late afternoon sun. The air smelled of damp earth and woodsmoke. Arthur was a scholar. He studied history. He studied the...0 Commenti 0 condivisioni 0 Views 0 Anteprima
-
The Faded AlibiThe dust in the archive room did not merely settle; it hung in the air like a suspended judgment, a particulate fog that coated the tongue with the taste of centuries and the slow decay of parchment, and I sat within this grey suspension, my fingers trembling not from the chill of the stone walls but from the terrible, electric awareness that I was finally, irrevocably, alone with the truth of...0 Commenti 0 condivisioni 5 Views 0 Anteprima
-
The Golden OathThe hall smelled of yeast and old wool. It was a smell that clung to the tongue. Mara stood by the high table. The candles burned low. Wax dripped onto the wood. The wood was dark. It had been dark for a hundred years. The men sat in rows. They wore their best shirts. The shirts were white. They were stiff. They were clean. Mara looked at the floor. The floor was stone. It was cold. It was worn...0 Commenti 0 condivisioni 0 Views 0 Anteprima
-
The Wistful MountainThe rain had not stopped for three days, turning the cobblestones of the lower city into a slick, black mirror that reflected the soot-stained brickwork of the Royal Sanatorium like a bruise spreading across the sky, and within the high, vaulted corridors of the institution, the air hung heavy with the scent of lye, wet wool, and the metallic, coppery tang of blood that seemed to seep from the...0 Commenti 0 condivisioni 0 Views 0 Anteprima
-
The Distant GardenThe script started in my left eye, a faint, golden vein that pulsed in time with my heartbeat. It was beautiful, really, a filigree of light against the iris, but it hurt. It hurt like a splinter of glass worked deep into the optic nerve, a constant, low-grade ache that made the fluorescent lights of the Ministry of Records feel like burning coals. I am Elias Thorne, forty-two, a senior...0 Commenti 0 condivisioni 0 Views 0 Anteprima
-
The Wistful VoyageThe smell of burnt sugar and iron hung in the air of the processing room, a thick, cloying veil that tasted like the end of the world. I stood before the great copper vats, my hands trembling not from the heat of the steam but from the terrible weight of the ledger in my pocket. For seven years, I had been a sinner in the eyes of the Bureau of Alchemical Regulation, a man who had sold his soul...0 Commenti 0 condivisioni 0 Views 0 Anteprima
English
Arabic
French
Spanish
Portuguese
Deutsch
Turkish
Dutch
Russian
Romaian
Portuguese (Brazil)
Greek