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The Faded AlibiElias, you are bleeding on the floor again. The voice of Silas, his assistant and former confessor, drifted up from the cellar stairs, thin and brittle as the dried herbs hanging in the rafters. Elias did not look up; he was too busy wiping the black fluid from his thumb with a rag that had already turned the color of rust. It was the winter of 1348, and the air in the apothecary was so cold it...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Golden OathThe letter lay on the mahogany desk, the paper thin and yellowed, smelling faintly of the lemon polish Vance applied every Friday. You read it twice, the ink blurring slightly as the room tilted. It was a commendation, a formality, a trap. You signed it, the pen scratching like a dry leaf against bark, and handed it back. Vance smiled, a tight, muscular expression that did not reach his eyes....0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Wistful AsylumElias Thorne. The name was called by the wind, or so it seemed, a dry rustle through the high branches of the Great Oak. But it was not the wind. It was the silence of the village, heavy and thick as wet wool, pressing against his ears. Elias stood in the center of the square, the iron badge of the constable’s office cold against his chest. He had been summoned to the barn. The order had come...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Pale ProtocolThe fox stood in the doorway of the tower room, its fur the color of old ash, blocking the only exit. It did not growl. It did not bare its teeth. It simply watched Elias, a creature of pale, silent judgment, as the alchemist stumbled back from the door and struck his shoulder against the cold stone wall. Three days. Three days since Clara’s fever had spiked, turning her skin to parchment and...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Golden OathI was counting the copper pennies in my palm when the Court Master’s gavel struck the wood, a sound like a bone snapping in the dry, dusty air of the Hall of Aethelgard. The smell hit me first, a cloying mix of old parchment, dried lavender, and the metallic tang of fear that clung to the sweat on my own neck. I looked up, my eyes adjusting to the dim light filtering through the high, arched...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Golden FarceThorne, you bastard, get down! The shout came from behind me, muffled by the wet earth and the thunder of the guns, but I knew the voice, or I thought I did, until the next shell tore the air above my head and sent a shower of mud into my eyes. I did not move. I could not move. My hand was pressed flat against the face of a grey granite boulder, the chisel in my other fist trembling not from...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Pale PathElias. The name was spat from the throat of the High Archivist like a stone thrown into deep water, and it struck the desk with a force that made the quill jump, splattering black ink across the parchment in a jagged, ugly star. You flinched, your hand trembling so violently that the nib caught the fiber of the paper, tearing a thin white line through the surface, and you watched the tear...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Golden VisitThe gourd is empty. Elias said this to the air, to the soot-stained ceiling, to the crack in the stone that let the wind whistle like a dying man. He held the object in both hands. It was gold, or it had been, before the years of handling had worn the metal to a dull, sickly yellow. The surface was pitted. One end was cracked, a jagged fissure that ran from the neck to the base. It was the only...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
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The Faded QuadrantThe ledger weighed four pounds, twelve ounces, and the silence in the house was heavy enough to crush the plaster on the ceiling. I had counted the hours since the mill whistle blew at six, and I had counted the stitches in the hem of my father’s coat as I laid it out on the ironing board, trying to make the fabric lie flat against the wood, but the cloth kept bunching up in the corners,...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
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