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 GhostThe rain fell in cold, relentless sheets that turned the road out of Kael into a churning slurry of mud and broken stone, and I rode through it with a numbness that had nothing to do with the chill, my armor stripped of its steel plating to pay the tithes that kept the Order of the Black Cross from starvation. I was forty-two years old, a knight in name only, my hands raw and bleeding from the...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant LegendMaren. The name hung in the air of the basement archive, sharp and singular. I looked up from the stack of manila folders. My supervisor, Mr. Halloway, stood in the doorway. His face was pale, lit by the flickering fluorescent tube above his head. "Your conduct," he said. His voice was flat, stripped of all inflection. "It is under review." He did not wait for a response. He turned and walked...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded QuadrantThe heavy iron key scraped against the lock of the maintenance hatch, a sound that Elias Thorne had come to associate with the grinding of his own joints, as he pushed the door open with a shoulder that ached from the damp October air. Inside, the Ashworth Pumping Station did not merely hum; it possessed a low, subsonic weight that settled in the teeth and the hollows of the chest, a vibration...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale MistThe fog in the Blackwood Valley did not behave like weather; it behaved like a living thing, a viscous, pale substance that clung to the cobblestones and the rusted iron of the textile mills, pressing against the glass of the factory windows with a slow, deliberate hunger. Elias Thorne, Sergeant of the County Constabulary, stood at the threshold of the abandoned Vane Mill, his hand resting on...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded AlibiThe count began with the escapement, three hundred and twelve teeth, each one worn smooth by the friction of centuries, a mechanical heartbeat that had long since outlasted the hands that built it. Elias Thorne stood before the open belly of the Great Meridian, his fingers stained with the black grease of oil and time, feeling the vibration of the gear train through the soles of his boots, a...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded DustThe chisel in your hand feels heavier than it did yesterday, and the stone beneath it resists with a dull, grinding friction that speaks of exhaustion rather than geology. You are Elias, a stonemason of forty years, and your hands are stained with the white dust of Oakhaven’s limestone, a grime that has settled into the whorls of your fingerprints until you can no longer distinguish where the...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale DoorThe coal dust in Ashworth had settled into the very fabric of the air, a fine, grey silt that coated the tongue and gritted between the teeth, but Sergeant Elias Thorne did not taste it as he walked the cobbled road toward the edge of town, his boots striking the wet stone with a rhythmic, mechanical precision that belied the turbulence churning within his chest. He was thirty-four years old, a...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden MazeThe chandeliers in the Great Hall of Ashworth Manor spun in a lazy, drunken orbit, casting prismatic shards of light across the polished marble floor where the war council stood in a grim, unbroken semicircle. You are twelve years old, Elias, and you are standing in the center of this gilded cage, clutching your father’s discarded gold-leafed glove so tightly that the knuckles of your left hand...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant JokeThe chisel bit into my palm before it touched the stone. I had been trying to keep my hand steady for three days, but the cold iron of the workshop floor was seeping into my bones, and the fever in Mara’s room was a drumbeat I could hear even through the walls. I am Elias. I am forty years old, and my hands are the only things that have not changed in a decade, though the world around them has...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
Arabic
French
Spanish
Portuguese
Deutsch
Turkish
Dutch
Italiano
Russian
Romaian
Portuguese (Brazil)
Greek