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 GhostThe snow fell in thick, grey clumps that smothered the sound of your own breathing, a silence so heavy it felt like a physical weight pressing against your chest. You are Sir Eamon, and you are thirty years old, though the winter has aged you a decade in the span of a single week. Your task is simple in its cruelty: escort Prince Cael, the King’s twelve-year-old son, across the Ashen Waste to...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded RoadThe light in the lower silo was the color of old teeth. Elias Thorne held his lantern close, the glass sweating with the damp breath of the grain. "You’ll not find what you’re looking for, Constable," Master Halloway said from the stairwell above, his voice thin and dry as the rotting husks. "The Guild’s seal is on the door. That is the law." Elias did not look up. He was forty years old, and...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant MetropolisThe scanner’s red light bled across the page, a thin, arterial line that pulsed in time with the tremor in Elias Thorne’s right hand. He held his breath, a practice he had adopted three months ago to steady the micro-shakes that had begun in his fingers, but the air in the archive room was thick with the smell of decaying lignin and the metallic tang of old iron, a scent that seemed to coat the...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Wistful SagaThe chandelier in the grand hall of the Ashworth estate swayed gently, casting fractured diamonds of light across the faces of the guests who had come to consume what remained of Thomas’s life. Elara stood near the center of the room, her hand resting on the back of a velvet chair, her knuckles white. She was forty-two, though the lines around her eyes suggested a woman who had seen more...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden GreenhouseThe mist in Oakhaven did not lift; it merely thinned, revealing the skeletal architecture of a town that seemed to have been carved from gray slate and silence. Elias Thorne stood at the edge of the main square, his coat heavy with damp, watching the Magistrate’s office loom across the cobblestones. He was forty-two, though the hollows in his cheeks and the tremor in his hands suggested a man...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Wistful ThroneThe vial was warm against Elias Thorne’s palm, a small, wax-sealed cylinder of glass that felt less like a container and more like a held breath, a secret kept in the hollow of his hand while the fluorescent lights of the visiting room hummed their low, electric drone overhead. He sat across from Arthur, who was eighty-one and shrinking in the wheelchair, his skin the color of old parchment...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden MazeThe damp of the cellar in Thorne Manor was not merely a condition of the air but a physical weight, a heavy, wet blanket that pressed against Sir Elias Thorne’s chest as he knelt on the flagstones, the rusted iron key trembling in his hand. It was the year of our Lord 1348, and the plague was gnawing at the edges of the kingdom, but the sickness in this house was older, deeper, and far more...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Wistful CipherThe rain lashed against the high, arched windows of the Blackwood Institute, a rhythmic, mechanical pounding that seemed to sync with the beating of my own heart. I sat in my office, the air thick with the scent of decaying vellum and the metallic tang of my own fear, and I held the Meridian Codex in my lap. It was a heavy thing, bound in leather so dark it appeared to drink the light from the...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant WhispersThe silver birch bled sap into the mud, a slow, viscous river of white light that pooled around the roots and spread across the dark, frozen earth. I woke with the taste of iron in my mouth, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird striking the cage of bone. It was the same dream, the same bleeding tree, and for the third night in a row, I had woken with the conviction that the...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
Arabic
French
Spanish
Portuguese
Deutsch
Turkish
Dutch
Italiano
Russian
Romaian
Portuguese (Brazil)
Greek