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 MythThe gold dust settled in the grooves of the ledger’s spine, three grains, then five, then a fine, warm powder that smelled of heated copper and old blood. Elias Thorne woke with his fingers buried in the sheets, the phantom weight of the dust still clinging to his skin. He was thirty-two, an archivist of mid-level rank, and his pension depended on the clean, boring silence of the Vane estate...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant GhostThe champagne is cold in your mouth, a metallic taste that coats the back of your throat. You stand by the marble pillar, holding a flute you haven’t drunk from in an hour, watching the centennial gala swirl around you like a slow, polite vortex. The room is a sea of navy suits and silk gowns, the air thick with the scent of lilies and expensive perfume. Chief Miller stands on the small stage,...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant PromiseElias Thorne woke with the taste of iron and silt on his tongue, his fingers white-knuckled around the cold brass casing of his pocket compass. The nightmare had been the same for three nights: a black, churning water rising past his chin, the weight of the world pressing against his eardrums until the surface was a distant, unreachable memory. He sat up in the narrow cot of his border post,...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Wistful AtlasThe glass is cracked, Margaret." Marcus’s voice was flat, devoid of the performative warmth he usually deployed for the board of directors. He stood in the center of the vault, his hand resting on the back of a steel chair, looking at the object in my hands not with curiosity, but with the weary disdain of a man inspecting a faulty appliance. I held the Wistful Atlas, the pane of medieval glass...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden RitualThe brass key turned in the lock with a sound like a bone cracking, a dry, sharp fracture that echoed in the humid air of the vault. Elian’s fingers, slick with the sweat of exertion, trembled as he held the mechanism steady, the metal biting into his palm. He was twelve, though his bones felt heavy, as if the years were already settling into his joints like sediment in a stagnant pond. In the...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant WoundThe silver tray is heavier than it looks, a slab of polished metal that pulls at your wrists and makes the crystal glasses wobble in their precarious pyramids. You are eleven, standing in the center of the grand dining hall, your knuckles white and your breath held tight in your chest. The air is thick with the scent of roasted pheasant and beeswax, a cloying sweetness that sits in the back of...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale TowerThe pen is cheap, a stubby thing from the stationery bin that costs twelve cents and has already bled a brown halo onto my thumb, but it is the only instrument steady enough to hold the weight of what I am about to write. I sit in the archive room, where the air smells of dry rot and the faint, metallic tang of the heating vents, and I dictate this letter to you, Clara, because I can no longer...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant AffairThe memo from the Institute’s Directorate was printed on heavy, cream-colored stock, the kind that felt like a slab of dry bone between your fingers, and it stated in clear, sans-serif type that your access to Laboratory 4B was revoked effective immediately due to a "minor procedural deviation" regarding the calibration of the centrifuge, a violation that was, in reality, a pretext for the...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Wistful MirrorThe bells of Saint Jude tolled the hour of Vespers, a sound like wet wool tearing, and Elias Vane stepped out into the gray afternoon. He was forty years old, a scholar of the lower faculty, and he was leaving the library forever. In his hand, wrapped in oilcloth, sat a vial of liquid starlight, a tonic distilled from mercury and moonflower that granted clarity at the cost of memory. He was not...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
Arabic
French
Spanish
Portuguese
Deutsch
Turkish
Dutch
Italiano
Russian
Romaian
Portuguese (Brazil)
Greek