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The Golden CrossingThe dream was always the same, a golden arch spanning a chasm of black water, its planks humming with a low, resonant frequency that vibrated in Elias Thorne’s teeth. He woke with the taste of ash on his tongue, the spectral bridge dissolving into gray mist as he opened his eyes. It was the fourteenth of the month, and his permanent tenure was due by the thirty-first. For twenty years, Elias...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Distant CrownThe note from the colliery foreman lay on the kitchen table, the ink smudged where Arthur Vane’s thumb had pressed it. It said he was off the roster for the night shift, his name crossed out in red chalk. Arthur read it twice, then folded it into a small square and placed it in his pocket, next to the coal dust that never quite washed out of his skin. He was forty years old, and his body felt...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Pale BridgeHalloway’s voice cut through the static like a wire snipping a branch. "Thorne, you are holding the line. Do not let them cross." Elias Thorne stood on the center span of the Pale Bridge, the wind tearing at his coat. He was forty years old, but the light here was wrong. It hung in the air, thick and yellow, like old syrup. The bridge was a single arch of white stone, spanning a chasm that did...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Pale MistThe dream was always the same: a fence line dissolving into a pale, choking mist, the wire turning to white thread, the world beyond it erased. Elias Thorne woke with the taste of iron in his mouth and a dull, throbbing ache in his left rib cage, a souvenir from the altercation with the drunk driver in sector four. He was forty-five years old, and his body felt like a rusted hinge, stiff and...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Pale AltarThe ink on the policy form bled, spreading into a black star that swallowed the signature line. Elias Thorne pressed a blotter against the wet paper, his breath held in a tight, cold knot in his chest. He was forty-five, an actuary of twenty years at Meridian Insurance Group, and he was losing the war against the paperwork. The office hummed, a low, static frequency that vibrated in his molars...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
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The Wistful VoyageThe pill was on the nightstand again, sitting on the small, blue ceramic dish Elise used for her sewing needles, a single white tablet that looked like a drop of condensed milk left to harden in the cold. "Did you take it?" Elise asked, her voice thin and brittle, like dry leaves skittering across a gravel driveway. "I didn't see it," I said, though I had seen it for six days straight, a...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Wistful IncenseThe pen nib scratches against the heavy, cream-colored paper, and you watch the ink bleed slightly into the fibers as you sign your name, Thomas Bradshaw, Constable, Class IV. Your hand is steady, but your chest feels hollowed out, a void where the warmth used to be, and the light from the gas lamp above your desk casts a long, distorted shadow across the linoleum floor of the station house. It...0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews
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The Distant GardenThe chisel bit into the limestone with a sound like a bone snapping, and the dust that flew up carried the scent of iron and wet earth. I wiped my brow with a sleeve that was already stiff with mortar, my hands trembling not from cold, but from the vibration that had taken root in my teeth three days prior. Above me, the Spire of Aethelgard rose into the low, bruised sky of the floating city,...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Faded ShieldThe parchment was brittle, its edges crumbling under Elias’s thumb, the ink faded to a ghost of its original black. It was a petition, drafted in the precise, angular script of a scribe who had once served the crown before his exile, and it lay flat on the cold stone floor of the antechamber while Elias waited for the High Priest to acknowledge his presence. The air in the room was thick with...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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