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 Distant ClueThe rain had turned the trench into a slurry of grey mud and rusted iron, a thick, cloying paste that sucked at our boots with every step, and I stood there, Sergeant Elias Thorne, thirty-four years old and shaking so violently that the butt of my Lee-Enfield rattled against my hip, while nineteen-year-old Julian huddled behind the sandbags, his face the color of old ash, his eyes wide with a...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale VerdictThe mist in the borderlands of the District did not rise; it seeped, a cold, grey fluid that pooled in the cracks of the cobblestones and climbed the walls of the administrative buildings like a slow, silent tide. Sergeant Elias Thorne stood before the glass window of the Ministry of Civil Records, his reflection ghosted and fractured by the condensation, watching the rain blur the streetlights...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded ParadoxThe banquet hall of the Vane Industrial Complex smelled of roasted pheasant and wet wool, a cloying mixture that hung heavy in the air above the polished mahogany tables where the staff of Lord Blackwood’s empire gathered to celebrate the quarter’s record output. Arthur Vane, twelve years old and sharp-featured, sat at the far end of the long table, his knees pressed together, watching the...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded RuinThe air in the Great Hall of Oakhaven tasted of stale ale and unwashed bodies, a thick, cloying sweetness that clung to the back of my throat as I raised the iron key to the well’s mouth. It was the eve of the Harvest Festival, the year 1204, and the townsfolk sat in rows of rough-hewn benches, their faces lit by the flickering tallow candles that seemed to dim as the shadows in the corners of...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden GreenhouseThe first coin fell at 09:14 AM, a heavy, cold clink against the terrazzo floor that sounded less like metal and more like a bone snapping. I stood in the center of the Ministry’s Aesthetic Compliance wing, my hand hovering over the ledger, counting the seconds between the drops. One, two, three. The Golden Greenhouse, a glass structure that had been installed in the atrium only last month, was...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant PromiseThe banquet hall of the Guild of Arcane Preservation smelled of roasted boar and ozone, a cloying mix that clung to the back of Elias Thorne’s throat. He stood at the head of the long oak table, his hands trembling so violently that the crystal goblet in his grip rattled against its saucer. The candles flickered in a wind that had no source, casting long, jagged shadows across the faces of the...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded MasqueradeThe fog in the city does not lift; it thickens, settling into the wool of your coat and the dampness of your lungs. You are Mara, thirty-two, and your hands are stained with indigo dye from the hem of a merchant’s coat. You sit in the back of the tavern, the only place where the silence is loud enough to hear the whisper. It is a low, silver sound, like the slide of a blade against bone, and it...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant MetropolisThe parchment was thin, the ink still wet and black as a bruise, and Elias Thorne held it up to the single tallow candle in the Duke’s antechamber. The seal was red wax, cracked at the edges, bearing the crest of the city guard, but the script was wrong; the loop of the ‘h’ in *habeas* was too tight, a telltale habit of a scribe who had been drunk the night before. Elias, thirty-two years old...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Wistful WitnessThe count was four hundred and twelve. That was the number on the intake form for the new prisoner, Silas Vane, and it was the number of hours I had spent in this block since my last leave. I knew the smell of the corridor before I saw the man; it was the metallic tang of old blood mixed with the damp, rotting scent of the ivy that had started to creep through the cracks in the floor. I was a...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
Arabic
French
Spanish
Portuguese
Deutsch
Turkish
Dutch
Italiano
Russian
Romaian
Portuguese (Brazil)
Greek