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The Pale TowerThe porch railing bit into Elias’s palm, the wood splintering under the pressure of his grip as he held the deed to the Thorne estate in his other hand, the paper yellowed and brittle, smelling of dust and old ink. He was thirty-two, a structural engineer by trade and a debtor by circumstance, standing before the house that had swallowed his father and now threatened to consume him, the...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Pale TaleThe shard of bone was cold, slick with the sweat of Elian’s palm, and it cut a thin line into the meat of his thumb. He held it against his chest, where his heart hammered a frantic, bird-like rhythm against his ribs. The fever had taken his father three days prior, leaving a hollow space in the cottage that smelled of damp wool and old blood. Now, the same sickness had crept up Elian’s spine,...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Golden ScarThe air in Dormitory Block 4 tasted of rust and stale sweat, a metallic tang that coated the back of the tongue and refused to wash away. Elias sat on his narrow cot, the mattress thin and springing, his knees drawn up to his chest where he cradled the object of his obsession. It was a fern, no larger than a man’s hand, but its fronds were not the sickly green of the state-mandated hydroponic...0 Comments 0 Shares 4 Views 0 Reviews
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The Faded QuadrantThe wine is red and thick, staining the rim of the clay cup, and the laughter in the hall is a physical weight against your chest. You are Elias, forty-two, and your hands, stained with the black grease of escapements, rest on the table as if they belong to a different man. The Guild Master, Aldous, stands before you, his face a mask of benevolent exhaustion, celebrating his retirement and your...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Golden GreenhouseThe air in the greenhouse tasted of copper and rot. Elias Vane pressed his ear against the glass, feeling the vibration of a shell impact miles away, but it was the sound beneath that made him recoil. A high, thin shriek, like a needle dragged across silk, emanating from the center of the room. The orchid pulsed. It was a *Phalaenopsis* of no known species, its petals a luminous, sickly gold...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Distant BladeThe liver in the jar had shrunk again, pulling away from the glass walls like a retreating tide, its surface darkening to the color of wet slate. I stood before it in the dim light of the basement archive, my breath fogging the air in short, sharp bursts, knowing with a visceral, sickening certainty that I had lied to the Board Chair Vance only an hour prior, claiming the Halloway estate files...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Faded FrontierThe ink did not dry; it breathed. Elias pressed his thumb against the parchment, feeling the wet pulse of the glyph beneath his skin. It was a script of the Old Order, a language of jagged, angular lines that seemed to shift when viewed from the corner of the eye. He was twelve, small for his age, with hands that shook from the cold and a cough that rattled in his chest like a loose stone. The...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Distant BladeThe train was already pulling out when Clara stepped back from the platform, her breath pluming in the November chill, and Elias watched her go through the grimy glass, aware that he was leaving more than a wife. He was leaving the only person who knew the weight of his silence. In his pocket, the cracked pocket watch ticked backwards, a soft, insistent ratchet against his thigh, marking the...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Distant AffairThe brass weighs three hundred and twelve grams, a fact Elias Thorne has measured with the precision of a man counting his own remaining years. He holds the central axis of the orrery, the instrument he spent three winters building for his father, and feels the cold metal seep into the calluses of his palm. The workshop is dim, the light filtering through the high windows in dusty shafts that...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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