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The Wistful IncenseDuncan Nisbet held the woolen cap in his hands, feeling the grit of the mill dust settle into the fibers. It was a small thing, a frayed thing, but it was the only thing he owned that was not stained by the soot of the counting room or the sweat of the barracks. He wanted it clean for his friend, a boy named Callum, who worked the looms on the third floor and had never once asked for anything...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Faded AlibiThe ledger weighed four pounds, a dense block of vellum and iron gall that Elias Thorne carried in his left hand as he waited in the antechamber of the Chancellor’s office. He counted the hours in the ticking of the wall clock, a mechanical heartbeat that marked the passage of time in increments of seconds, each one a small debt added to the sum of his life. He was there to sign a remission for...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Wistful MountainThe ink was dry before Elias had finished the sentence. It sat on the permit form like a scab, black and brittle, refusing to yield to the nib of his pen. The rain had stopped, but the air in the customs house was still wet, thick with the smell of wet limestone and the metallic tang of old iron. Elias Thorne, forty-two, a man whose face had been mapped by twenty years of wind and duty, stared...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Golden HarborThe letter was signed with a flourish that cost more in ink than the rent on Elara’s current flat. She read it twice, the paper slick with the damp of the coastal air, the words blurring into a promise she did not want to keep. Silas wanted the deed. He wanted the house back, or so he claimed, though the truth sat heavier in her stomach than the salt spray. She stood on the cliff path, the wind...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Wistful WitnessDo you remember the weight of a loaf that does not rot? I held the Silent Bread in my left pocket, a dense, warm mass against my hip that hummed with a low, persistent vibration, like a cat purring inside a wall. It was the Year of the Iron Crown, and I stood in the Great Hall of the High King, my armor polished to a mirror shine that reflected the flickering torchlight and the pale, hungry...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Distant SummerElias. The name was spoken by Brother Thomas with a weight that felt less like a summons and more like a toll being collected. The old librarian stood in the archway of the scriptorium, his shadow stretching long and thin across the flagstones as the afternoon light slanted through the high, narrow windows. Elias did not look up from his work immediately. He was hunched over the parchment, the...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Distant CartographThe ledger showed four hundred and twelve hours logged since the last pay cycle, a number that weighed heavier than the coal in the stove. Arthur Vane sat in the corner of the Royal Cartographic Survey office, the air thick with the smell of stale tobacco and damp wool, and checked his pulse. It was quick, a frantic rabbit-thump against his wrist, a reminder that the lungs he was trying to save...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Golden OathThe jar was cold, the glass slick with condensation that beaded like sweat on Elias Thorne’s knuckles. He held it up to the dim light of the barracks, watching the amber liquid swirl, thick and viscous, smelling of burnt sugar and medicinal herbs. It was the standard-issue nutrient paste, mandated by Command for all personnel in the final deployment phase, a substance designed to sustain the...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Wistful WitnessThe ink on the form was wet, a dark smear against the grey paper. "Lost in action," the clerk said, not looking up from his ledger. "Standard procedure for the 14th. You are erased, Sergeant." Elias Thorne stood in the mud of the Somme, the rain turning the ground to a slurry that sucked at his boots. In his hand, he clutched a letter from his brother, Thomas. The paper was soft, worn thin by...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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