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 Faded QuadrantThe obsidian quadrant was cold against my palm, a jagged shard of night that had been chipped from a larger whole, and I held it with a grip so tight my knuckles whitened against the leather of the scriptorium’s table. Outside, the wind moaned against the high windows of the Abbey of St. Jude, a sound that seemed to mimic the rhythmic, faint throb I felt in the stone, a pulse that matched the...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale CircusThe rusted gates of the Blackwood Ironworks groaned under the weight of your hands, a sound like a dying man clearing his throat. It was November of 1924, and the air in the valley hung thick with the smell of sulfur and wet coal, a scent that had seeped into the fibers of your coat and the pores of your skin since you arrived in the town of Halloway. You were thirty-two years old, Elias...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant BladeThe intake form for the Aether Shard project lay on the stainless-steel table, its edges curling slightly under the weight of the fluorescent tube above, a bureaucratic skeleton pinned to the sterile air of Lab 4. I signed my name in the lower left corner, the ink still wet and black against the white void, while Julian stood behind me, his shadow stretching long and thin across the linoleum...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale PathThe ink was dry, yet the letters deepened. I watched the ghostly script bleed into the vellum, a phenomenon the council dismissed as chemical variance, but my hands trembled as I traced the lines. I needed to finish this commission by Friday, or the city archive would seize our studio. Clara sat across from me, her face tight with the same silent fear I felt. She did not look at the page. She...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden MazeThe brass key in Elias’s hand was cold, heavy enough to bruise the palm, and it smelled of rust and old oil. He stood in the antechamber of the Aethelgard Archive, a building that had once been a textile mill but now housed the city’s most guarded secrets, while the rain lashed against the high, grimy windows. The light from the gas lamps was flickering, casting long, jittery shadows that...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale ExileThe letter lay on the desk, the paper thin and yellowed at the edges, smelling faintly of the lemon polish Mr. Vance used to keep his mahogany surfaces gleaming. Elara stared at the signature line, her pen hovering, the ink dry, as the morning light from the high windows cut a sharp, cold square across the linoleum floor. It was a refusal, dressed in the polite, circular language of corporate...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale FractureThe High Keeper’s voice is a dry rasp in the dark, calling your name like a summons to a court of ghosts. Elias. Come forward. You do not move. You cannot move. Your hands are locked in a rigid, pale grip on the leather satchel at your hip, and the skin there is no longer flesh but a cold, chalky substance that crumbles at the slightest tremor of your breath. You are in the lower vaults of the...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded BouquetThe ink is wet, Thomas. It has been wet for forty years, and it will be wet when they put you in the ground." I looked up from the candle, the flame trembling in the draft that slipped through the cracks of the Inquisition’s archive, a cold, damp breath that smelled of mildew and old blood. Bishop Aldric stood in the doorway, his robes heavy with the dust of centuries, his face a mask of...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale MeridianThe rain lashed against the high, narrow windows of the Whitmore Institute, a rhythmic drumming that Elias Thorne had long since ceased to hear. He sat at his desk, the wood worn smooth by decades of elbows, and stared at the glass of water before him. In the reflection, his own face looked back, pale and drawn, the lines around his mouth deepened by a week of sleepless nights. But the...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
Arabic
French
Spanish
Portuguese
Deutsch
Turkish
Dutch
Italiano
Russian
Romaian
Portuguese (Brazil)
Greek