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 Pale ProtocolThe nib of your pen scratches against the parchment, a sound like a small animal dying in the corner of the room. You are copying the Duke’s charter, letter by letter, into your private journal, and the ink is wet, black, and heavy in the well of your quill. It is October the twelfth, and the rain has been falling on the slate roof of the Royal Chancery for three days, a relentless drumming...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale MistThe name is called out in the hallway, sharp and clipped, like a coin dropped on tile. "Elias. Come to my office. Now." You do not run. You walk. Your shoes, the brown leather ones you bought at the estate sale for twelve dollars, make a dry, rasping sound against the linoleum of the provincial records office, a floor that has not been waxed since the administration change in 2015. The air in...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Wistful IncenseIn the palm of Elias Thorne’s hand, a single stick of pine resin lay cool and dry, its surface rough with the grit of crushed bark and the faint, waxy sheen of rendered sap. He turned it over, feeling the grain, a habit born of twenty years grinding charcoal and blending oils in a cramped workshop in Leeds, but here, in the valley of Oria, the object felt less like a product and more like a...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Wistful VoyageThe salt crunched under our boots, a sound like breaking teeth, as Mr. Vane’s voice cut through the grey morning air. "Elias! Move your feet, you heavy-handed boy, or I’ll have you left behind for the crows!" I was twelve years old, and my left hand hung at my side, a dead weight that seemed to pull my entire body toward the earth. We had been walking for three days across the white expanse of...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden MazeHerbert Kilbride’s boot struck the threshold of the granary, splintering the wood with a sharp crack that echoed off the stone walls. He was thirty-four years old, and the weight of his rifle felt less like a tool of war and more like an extension of his own spine. The air inside was cold, damp with the scent of damp straw and old grain, a smell that had not changed in the forty years since he...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded DustThe manor of 1893 was a skeleton of rot and memory, standing on the edge of a cliff where the wind tasted of iron and decay. Elias Thorne, thirty years old and gaunt as a winter bird, stood in the hallway, his fingers tracing the peeling wallpaper that once had been a deep, dignified blue. He needed money. Not for himself, but for Clara, his sister, who coughed blood into a handkerchief that...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale FractureThe chisel in your hand is cold, the iron bit worn to a dull point, and the wood beneath it splinters with a dry, brittle snap that echoes in the small, windowless room. You are Elias, a scribe of the third rank, and you have been carving the same letter for three hours, the ink drying to a black crust in the well. The sound of the city outside is a low, constant hum, the vibration of the glass...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale AltarThe ledger of the Pale Order counted three hundred and twelve souls bound to the foundation stones, a debt of ink and silence that weighed heavier than the stone itself. You stood before the High Inquisitor, Elias, your hands trembling not from fear but from the sheer, crushing weight of the petition you had drafted in the dead of night, a document that smelled of ozone and desperation. The...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden MazeThe gold thread bled into the cuticle of my thumb, a fine, metallic stain that would not wash off with soap, and I felt the vibration start in the molars before it reached the rest of the room. I am Mara, thirty-two, a senior archivist at the Ministry of Cultural Preservation, and I wanted nothing more than to secure my tenure by cataloging the newly discovered "Golden Maze" tapestries, a set...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
Arabic
French
Spanish
Portuguese
Deutsch
Turkish
Dutch
Italiano
Russian
Romaian
Portuguese (Brazil)
Greek