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 Wistful AshesThe blue light of the terminal washed over Elias Thorne’s face, turning his skin the color of old slate, and in the silence of the Ministry of Memory archives, the only sound was the low, electric hum of the servers processing the collective conscience of the nation. He was thirty-four years old, an archivist of mid-level clearance, and he had been sitting in that chair for six hours, his eyes...0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded RoadThe letter lay on the oak desk, its edges curling slightly in the dry air of the archive room, the ink faded to a bruised purple that Arthur Vane had spent twenty years trying to preserve. It was a notice from the Board of Historical Custody, dated three days prior, informing him that his request for access to the Bradshaw estate had been denied due to "compromised cognitive stability," a...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded ParadoxThe train to Blackwood smelled of coal dust and wet wool, a scent that Elara Vane had grown to hate over the three hours of the journey. She clutched her leather satchel, the one containing the audit files and the letter that had stripped her of her position at the municipal office. She was thirty years old, and for the first time in her life, she felt like a ghost drifting through her own...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Wistful SilenceThe rain in the industrial district did not fall so much as it was exhaled by the city, a cold, sulfurous mist that seeped into the joints of my bones and settled in the lungs of the dying. I stood alone on the cobblestones of Blackwell Street, the soot from the nearby foundry coating my uniform in a grey film that matched the color of my despair, my hands trembling not from the chill but from...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded Ruin"The vial is cracked, Sergeant." Elias Thorne looked down at the glass in his hand. It was a slender tube of state-issued Soma, the liquid inside a pale, viscous blue that caught the dim light of the ward. A hairline fracture ran from the base to the neck, a jagged scar that had appeared only moments ago, as if the glass itself had rejected its contents. He turned it over, feeling the weight of...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden ScarThe vial weighed exactly forty-two grams in Elias’s palm, a heavy, cold thing of glass and gold. He had spent three days distilling the essence, filtering it through seven layers of charcoal and ash, ensuring the Golden Scar remained pure. In the year 1042, the roads to the Iron Citadel were paved with the bones of the desperate, and Elias counted the miles with the same mechanical precision he...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant GhostThe blueprint was wrong, and we both knew it before the ink had even dried on the parchment. "Master Aldous," I said, my voice sounding thin in the cramped office, "the load-bearing arches cannot support the weight of the new reservoir if we keep the foundation on the silt layer. It will sink within a season." Aldous did not look up from his ledger. The light from the single gas lamp was...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden SongThorne, you are behind schedule. The voice did not come from the room, but from the air itself, a dry, papery rustle that seemed to peel off the spines of the ledger books lining the shelves. Elias Thorne looked up from his desk, his fingers stained with the brown ink of his ledger, and waited for the silence to return. It did not. Instead, a low, subsonic hum began to vibrate in the...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded FrontierThe flour weighed exactly four hundred and twelve pounds, a number Elias had counted in his sleep, his fingers drumming the rhythm against the heavy oak table before the dream even began. He woke with the taste of iron and ash on his tongue, a metallic tang that coated the back of his throat and refused to wash away. The morning light in Oren was thin and grey, filtering through the stained...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
Arabic
French
Spanish
Portuguese
Deutsch
Turkish
Dutch
Italiano
Russian
Romaian
Portuguese (Brazil)
Greek