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 Wistful CrossroadsThe summons came not as a shout, but as a cold draft that slipped under the heavy oak doors of the Inquisitor’s office, carrying the scent of wet ash and old paper. Silas Vane looked up from his desk, where the Codex of Silence lay open, its pages blank yet humming with a low, static vibration that made the hair on his forearms stand on end. He was a man of thirty-two, precise in his movements,...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden DowntownThe ink had barely dried on the final column of the ledger when Arthur Vane’s hand stopped moving, trembling slightly in the cold air of the office. He rubbed his forearm against the wool of his sleeve, a habitual, soothing friction that had become as necessary as breathing since the dream began. In the dream, the sparrow was gold, solid and heavy, and it shattered against the iron girders of...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden RitualThe boy, Thomas, stood in the center of the kitchen, his hands shaking so violently that the spoon clattered against the porcelain rim, a sound that seemed to pierce the heavy, humid air of the August afternoon. He was twelve years old, small for his age, with hair the color of wet straw that stuck to his forehead in damp clumps, and he was staring at the pot on the stove where a pale, viscous...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Wistful ShowThe fog does not rise; it settles, a cold and wet weight that presses against your skin like a shroud. You are Elara, thirty-two, and you are a warden, though the title feels like a lie stitched into your coat. You want the Hollow King. You want to catch it in the cracked silver mirror that hangs at your hip, a weapon that reflects true forms but shatters if you look at yourself. The Order,...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale ShadowsThe pipe was heavy, a length of iron that seemed to gain weight with every inch it traveled from the furnace to the gathering point, and in my hands it felt less like a tool and more like an extension of a bone that was slowly turning to ash. I held the molten gather, a sphere of glowing silica that pulsed with a heat so intense it made my teeth ache, and I looked into the curve of the glass....0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden RitualThorne. The name hung in the air of the evidence locker, cold and sharp as the steel shelves lining the walls. Elias Thorne stood in the dim light, his hand hovering over a crate of rusted metal, his knuckles white. He was forty-two, with a back that ached when the barometric pressure dropped and a pension that was three years away. Three years. He had counted the days since the audit notice...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded RiverThe dream is always the same: the Vael River, not water, but a sheet of black glass, unbroken and absolute. I wake with the taste of iron in my mouth, the clock on the nightstand ticking at 4:00 AM. I am Elias Thorne, a senior cartographer for the Department of Public Works, and I have three days to complete the final survey of the Vael before my pension is secured. The opposing force is not...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale AltarThe chisel slipped, a sharp crack echoing off the vaulted ceiling, and I froze, my breath held in my throat. Brother Thomas did not look up from his ledger. He was balancing the accounts for the wool trade, his quill scratching a steady, dry rhythm against the parchment. The sound was the only thing in the room that had not stopped when I struck the marble. I stared at the nick in the Pale...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded RuinThe stone begins at the wrist. It is a gray, cold weight, spreading up the vein like frost on glass. You are Elias Thorne, thirty-two years old, and the archivist of Oakhaven. The year is 1924, and the air in the basement office tastes of ash and iron. You want to finish the report. You must submit it to the Bureau before your fingers fuse into a single, rigid block. The walls whisper your...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
Arabic
French
Spanish
Portuguese
Deutsch
Turkish
Dutch
Italiano
Russian
Romaian
Portuguese (Brazil)
Greek