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 Golden MasterThe nib of the pen was dragging, a heavy, sputtering weight against the paper, and Elias Thorne pressed down with a force that made his knuckles white and the ink pool in a black, ugly blob that ruined the contour line he had been tracing for the last four hours. He did not look up. He could not afford to look up, for the valley of Glencoe was waiting, and his contract with the Ordnance Survey...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden EchoesThe ledger shows eleven years of service. Eleven years of counting hours, weighing sacks of salt for the preservation bins, and patching the mortar on the west wall. You are thirty-two. Your pension is due in thirty days. In thirty days, you will marry Sarah. The manor of Blackwood is old, older than the kingdom it serves, and the fog that clings to its stones is not just weather. It is a...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale LetterThe leather glove sat on my desk. It was wet. It smelled of the river mud, a scent that had not touched my skin in twenty years. I looked at the Major’s door. It was shut. I looked at the glove. It was my father’s. I am Silas. I am forty years old. I have served the Border Corps for fifteen years. I want my name cleared. The Corps says I failed at the gate. They say I let something through....0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Wistful ThroneThe order lay on the scarred oak table, the ink still wet, smelling of iron and authority. You read it twice. Then a third time, your fingers tracing the jagged line of the signature, Commander Vane’s scrawl like a claw mark on the parchment. It was simple: abandon the northern pass, retreat to the keep, seal the gate. The justification was a report of a massed enemy force, a siege that would...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant BladeThe letter lay on the mahogany desk, its seal unbroken, the wax dark red and heavy under Elias Thorne’s thumb. He had been holding it for three minutes, the weight of the paper negligible, yet it felt like a stone against his palm. Outside the window of the Royal Archive, the autumn wind stripped the leaves from the bare elms, sending them skittering across the gravel in a dry, rattling sheet....0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded QuadrantThorne. The name hung in the wet air, spoken by the voice of a man who had once called him brother, and now called him traitor. Sergeant Elias Thorne stood in the mud of the trench, his boots sinking into the churned earth with a sound like wet leather tearing, gripping a rusted iron key he had stolen from a dead officer’s waistcoat. The key was cold, its teeth worn smooth by time and use, and...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale AltarThe rain against the windows of the Pale Altar Institute was not water, but a slow, viscous exhalation of the building’s own rot. You stood before the oak desk of Director Halloway, your hands trembling not from cold, but from the weight of the Black Ledger you carried. For twenty years, you had served this institution, believing you were the guardian of its truth, the archivist of its memory....0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded QuadrantThe valve was stuck, and you knew it by the sound before you saw the rust. Your fingers, thick with grime, turned the wheel a quarter inch, feeling the grit of twenty-six years of neglect grind against the metal. The air in the sub-basement of the Municipal Waste Processing Plant tasted of ozone and wet concrete, a sharp, metallic tang that coated the back of your throat. You were Elias Thorne,...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Wistful SkylineThe rent is due on the first, Elias, and you are bleeding flour into the sink. Silas, the man who lived in 4B, stood in the doorway of your kitchen, his arms crossed over a chest that had once been broad but was now hollowed out by time and cheap cigarettes. He looked at the bucket of water, now the color of weak tea, and then at you. You were forty-two, though you felt older, your hands...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
Arabic
French
Spanish
Portuguese
Deutsch
Turkish
Dutch
Italiano
Russian
Romaian
Portuguese (Brazil)
Greek