0 Comments
0 Shares
2 Views
0 Reviews
Directory
Discover new ideas, create new connections and make new friends
-
Please log in to like, share and comment!
-
The Golden CellarThe scratch was fresh, a jagged white line bisecting the polished brass cover of the ledger, and Arthur Vane stared at it as if he had been struck by a physical blow in the dim, coal-scented cellar of the Harrowgate Textile Mill. It was a small wound in the metal, yet it felt like a gash across his own face, a violation of the unbroken service his father had sworn to Mr. Sterling thirty years...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant MachineOctober 14 My hands are locking again. The knuckles swell by morning, stiff as oak in winter, and by noon the pain is a white noise that drowns out the wind. I am fifty-two years old. I have served the Border for twenty-two years. I know every rock, every shadow, every foot of this gray stretch of land. But I do not know how much longer I can hold a rifle. The Commandant says I am past my...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden Oath%3Cp%3EThe%20candle%20guttered%20in%20the%20draught%2C%20throwing%20shadows%20across%20the%20vaulted%20ceiling%20like%20a%20restless%20spirit%20unwilling%20to%20rest.%20Elias%20Thornwood%20stood%20alone%20in%20the%20archive%27s%20deepest%20chamber%2C%20his%20fingers%20trembling%20as%20they%20traced%20the%20brass%20clasp%20of%20the%20journal%20he%20had%20spent%20three%20weeks%20deciphering.%20Th...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale TowerThe chisel lay in Arthur’s palm, its head worn flat by twenty years of use, the steel cold enough to sting the calluses of his grip. He stood in the center of the dining room, the air thick with the scent of damp wool and the stale, metallic taste of the crypt he had just descended, while Elise sat at the far end of the table, her hands folded over a ledger that looked as thin as the excuses...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded MasqueradeThe leather of the satchel was cracked, dry as old skin, and it bit into your palm with every step. You adjusted the strap, feeling the cold seep through the wool of your coat, and looked back one last time at the iron gates of the city. Behind you, the smoke from the foundries hung low and yellow, choking the sky. Ahead of you, the road stretched into a white blur, the first snow of the season...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden CompassThe needle of the Golden Compass had not moved in three days, and it pointed squarely at my chest. I held the brass instrument in my trembling hands, the cold metal biting into my palm, while the smell of rot and lavender hung thick in the air of the infirmary. Elara lay on the straw pallet, her breathing shallow and wet, her skin the color of old parchment. I am Elias, a scholar of natural...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale MistThe ledger weighed four pounds, three ounces. You counted the coins in your pocket, twelve cents, enough for the bus fare back to the city if the fog lifted by noon. It had not lifted. You had been in Oakhaven for three days, standing in the doorway of the branch library, watching the mist curl around your ankles like damp wool. The air was cold, a damp chill that settled in the joints and...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant SummerThe ink in the well was a solid, black crust, hard as a river stone, refusing to yield to the solvent or the heat of the room. Elias Thorne held the nib against it, feeling the friction of the dried pigment, a texture that should not have existed in a climate-controlled drafting room. He was fifty-two, a man whose hands were mapped with the faint white scars of old burns and whose life was...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant MetropolisThe Distant Metropolis The fog came in off the Thames like a held breath, slow and deliberate, as though the city itself was deciding whether to exhale. Arthur Pendelton stood at the window of his Chelsea flat, watching the streetlamps bleed their orange halos into the damp air. Seven years. Seven years since the night Elara disappeared from the Warburg Institute's north wing, and the fog still...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
Arabic
French
Spanish
Portuguese
Deutsch
Turkish
Dutch
Italiano
Russian
Romaian
Portuguese (Brazil)
Greek