0 Comments
0 Shares
0 Views
0 Reviews
Directory
Discover new ideas, create new connections and make new friends
-
Please log in to like, share and comment!
-
The Distant PromiseThe nightmare was always the same: the walls of the Blackwood Asylum breathing, the plaster flaking off in dry, chalky sheets that smelled of wet earth and old copper. Elias Thorne woke with a gasp, his hand already reaching for the lamp on the nightstand, his heart hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird. He was forty years old, a man who had spent two decades enforcing the rigid...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden FarceThe fire that consumed your home did not smell of wood, but of burnt parchment and the sweet, cloying rot of lilies, a scent that clung to the back of your throat long after the smoke had cleared. You were Elias Vane, a scholar of heraldry and the last living heir to a name that had once commanded respect in the court of Duke Aldric, and in the charred ruin of your study, you found the Golden...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale MistThe ink in the well was black, a deep, viscous dark that seemed to pull the light from the scriptorium down into its depths, and as I ground the lapis lazuli against the porphyry slab, the rhythmic scraping sound was the only thing that kept my hands from shaking. I am Elara, a novice of the Abbey of St. Jude, and I have spent three years in this damp, stone-walled room copying the *Book of...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Wistful CampusThe stone in the north face of St. Jude’s Cathedral wept a black, viscous sap that smelled of rot and old iron. Elias Thorne, the master mason, watched the fluid bead on the rough-hewn granite, his hands trembling not from the cold but from the familiar, burning itch that spread up his forearms as he worked. He was forty years old, a man whose lungs had begun to rattle with a persistent cough...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Wistful VoyageThe gate was iron, blackened by decades of soot and rain, and Elias stood before it with his hand on the cold latch. He was forty years old, a scribe who had once held the quill for the Duke’s highest commands, now reduced to a hollow-eyed exile coughing into a rag. The sound was dry, a metallic rattle that seemed to come from the bones of his chest rather than his lungs. He did not look back...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant ThresholdThe fire in the central hearth of Blackwood Manor did not burn; it devoured. It was a localized phenomenon, confined strictly to the library’s east wing, where the shadows detached themselves from the furniture and pooled in the corners like spilled ink, independent of the gaslight’s flicker. Arthur Vane, a thirty-four-year-old estate clerk with ink-stained fingers and a spine rigid with...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Wistful SkylineThe dream always begins with the smell of wet ash, a scent that clings to the back of the throat like the memory of a fire that never happened, and I am standing in the vast, windowless hall of the Ministry of Records, where the air is so still it feels like breathing underwater, and the shelves stretch up into a darkness that swallows the light of my desk lamp. I am Elias Thorne, forty-two...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale BonsaiThe dampness of the Obsidian Citadel did not smell of stone or decay, but of boiled root and copper, a thick, medicinal fog that clung to the skin like a second layer of flesh. Sergeant Elias Thorne stood in the antechamber, his eyes fixed on the itchy, raised bump on the inside of his left wrist, a small, pale knot of flesh that had appeared only an hour after he had last sipped the court’s...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant SummerThe iron gates of the Foundry stood open, exhaling a plume of white steam that hung in the air like the ghost of a winter that had already passed. Elias Thorne stood at the threshold, his hands resting on the cold, riveted steel, feeling the vibration of the engines deep within the earth. He was not a man who sought glory, nor did he believe in the divine right of the men who sat in the high...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
Arabic
French
Spanish
Portuguese
Deutsch
Turkish
Dutch
Italiano
Russian
Romaian
Portuguese (Brazil)
Greek