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The Distant ThresholdOne. Two. Three. I count the drops of blood falling from my quill into the inkwell. Four. Five. The well is full. The parchment is dry. I am forty years old and my hands are steady, though the cold in the abbey cellar bites through my wool. I have three days until the solstice. Three days to finish the chronicle of the Kingdom’s fall. If I do not finish it, the truth will rot with the rest of...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Golden EchoesElias held the glass vial, its weight a cold pebble in his sweating palm. The liquid inside was clear, but it seemed to hum with a frequency that made his teeth ache. He looked at Clara, who stood by the kitchen island, her back to him, arranging apples in a bowl with the mechanical precision of a woman who had long since stopped expecting him to notice. She was wearing the green dress he had...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Golden FarceThe sword was heavy, not with weight, but with the sudden, sickening realization that the air itself had thickened. "Hold the line, Kaelen," Thomas whispered, his voice thin as parchment against the roar of the wind. "They are coming through the gate." Sir Kaelen did not look at the squire. He looked at the stone. The courtyard of Blackstone Keep was not merely dark; it was saturated, a...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Wistful SagaI counted the stitches in the leather strap of my holster as I waited for the post rider. Fourteen. The thread had frayed at the third knot, a sign of wear that no amount of oil could fix. I was thirty-two years old, and my hands were steady, but my mind was not. It was November, 1892, and the air in the Red Rock outpost tasted of pine sap and old iron. I wanted one thing: to know if the man I...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Distant NightmareThe rain had been falling for three hours, a steady, gray curtain that turned the streets of Chicago into a slick, black mirror. Elias Thorne counted the seconds between the traffic lights at the corner of State and Clark, his fingers drumming against the leather of his duffel bag. He had been waiting for forty-five minutes. The bus was late, and the cold was settling into his joints with a...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Distant BladeThe frost in the hall of King Aldric did not merely chill the air; it settled into the marrow, a heavy, silent weight that pressed against the inside of my ribs as I knelt before the throne, the cold stone biting through the thin wool of my tunic. I was twelve years old, a squire of no particular renown, yet my hunger was a living thing that clawed at my throat, a desperate, gnawing void that...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Distant ThresholdThe champagne was warm and flat, a pale gold liquid that caught the light of a thousand crystal chandeliers, but Elias Thorne did not drink. He stood near the edge of the mahogany table, his fingers trembling as he adjusted his cufflinks, a small, precise action that masked the violent stuttering of his heart. The banquet hall in the city was a cathedral of excess, filled with the hum of a...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Distant WoundThe ledger sat in my hands, cold and heavy, its spine cracked from use. I held it like a weapon, or perhaps a coffin lid, waiting for the weight to settle into my bones. The air in the Zone tasted of iron, a metallic tang that coated the back of my throat and made my teeth ache. I was Elias Thorne, Border Enforcement Officer, Second Class, and I had come here to retrieve the final records of my...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Golden FarceThe gold was wrong, Elias Thorne said, turning the small ingot over in his palm, the light from the single hanging bulb casting long, sickly shadows across the workbench. It was not wrong, Mayor Halloway replied, his voice smooth as the varnish on the council chamber table, it is merely waiting for the right touch, a touch that you, sir, have demonstrated to be unshakable. Elias looked up, the...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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