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 BladeThe letter arrived on a Tuesday, carried by a boy whose breath plumed in the freezing air of the manor’s entrance hall. Elias took the envelope from the child’s stiff fingers, his own hands trembling not from the cold but from the wax seal. It was red, stamped with the crest of the High Court, a lion devouring a stag. He recognized the lion. He had painted that very beast on his father’s study...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden SuspectThe glass walls of the fourteenth floor did not reflect the city; they trapped it. Elias Thorne sat in the center of this sealed cube, the air conditioning humming a low, mechanical drone that vibrated in his teeth. He was thirty-two, an actuary for the Meridian Pension Trust, and he was broke. The spreadsheet on his monitor was a labyrinth of numbers, a cold, sterile grid where millions of...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Wistful SkylineThe candle in Elias Thorne’s study flickered, casting long, trembling shadows against the walls lined with leather-bound ledgers. He sat hunched over his desk, the parchment before him blank, his fingers stained with the deep, bruised blue of the Ink of Memory. For twenty years, Elias had served the Guild of Archivists, a rigid order that claimed to preserve the truth of the realm, yet which...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant ClueThe telegram arrived on a Tuesday, the paper yellowed and brittle as the autumn leaves that had begun to fall against the window of my office. It stated, in the clipped, impersonal language of the state, that my son Thomas had died in the line of duty. I read the words three times, my eyes failing to connect the name with the man who had sat at my kitchen table just weeks ago, complaining of a...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant JourneyThe wind through the limestone fissures does not howl; it speaks. You know this because you have measured the frequency, recorded the barometric pressure, and calculated the resonance of the cave mouth against the prevailing northwesterly gales, yet the sound that reaches your ears in the dead of night is not air, but a distorted, metallic replication of human speech, a phenomenon you have...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale BridgeThe ice had not yet set in the river, but the air in the city of Oakhaven tasted of it, a sharp, metallic bite that settled in the lungs. Elias Vane stood on the observation deck of the Meridian Bridge, his breath pluming in the gray twilight. He was forty-five, a man carved from the same hard, unyielding stone as the pylon he was inspecting. On his hands, he wore his father’s leather gloves....0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale BonsaiThe dream is always the same: a pale bonsai, twisted and ancient, its roots drinking deep from a floor of black stone, whispering in the voice of your brother, Julian, who has been dead for six years. You wake in the cold blue light of the Imperial Archive, the smell of dust and dried ink heavy in your throat, your hands trembling as you reach for the quill. You are Elias, forty-two, a scribe...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Wistful AshesThe stone was cold, but Elias’s hands were on fire. He stood in the center of the shattered nave of St. Jude’s, the dust of the collapsed archway settling on his shoulders like ash. He was thirty years old, a mason of the Guild, and he had just watched the roof give way to the weight of the winter. His daughter Clara was sick. The fever had taken her breath, leaving her small body rattling in...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale TaleThe iron taste is already on your tongue, a metallic film that coats the back of your throat before you have even opened the bottle, and you sit in the corner of the partners’ office, your hands trembling so violently that the glass vial rattles against your knuckles like a bone being cracked. You are Elias Thorne, thirty-four years old, a junior actuary who has spent the last decade trying to...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
Arabic
French
Spanish
Portuguese
Deutsch
Turkish
Dutch
Italiano
Russian
Romaian
Portuguese (Brazil)
Greek