0 Comments
0 Shares
1 Views
0 Reviews
Directory
Discover new ideas, create new connections and make new friends
-
Please log in to like, share and comment!
-
The Golden CircuitOctober 12, 1904 The rain in London does not wash things clean; it only makes the grime slicker. I am thirty-two years old, and I have spent the last decade calculating the probability of my own mediocrity. At the Meridian Insurance Exchange, I am a junior actuary, a functionary of numbers, a man who knows the weight of a life in pounds and shillings but not in flesh. I want the promotion. I...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant CrownThe ladle hit the bottom of the copper pot with a dull, metallic thud, and I froze, my hand still suspended in the steam, watching the broth swirl into a dark, oily vortex. I had been at Blackwood Sanatorium for only three days, and the silence of the kitchen was already a physical weight, pressing against my eardrums, thick and suffocating. The head cook, a gaunt man named Silas who wore his...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale Protocol14 October 1893 The cold here does not bite; it waits. It sits in the corners of the stone walls of this outpost, a patient, grey thing that has outlasted empires and will outlast us. I am Elias Thorne, and I have come to the edge of the world to secure a signature that is worth more than my life, for in the machinery of the Ministry, a man is nothing without his paper trail. I have spent ten...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden OathThe ink in my pot had turned the color of dried blood, and the quill in my hand felt heavy as a iron nail. I stared at the page, the parchment trembling under my gaze, waiting for the words that would save my life and the debts of my house. Across the table, Lord Vane sat with his back to the fire, his silhouette sharp against the gloom of the scribe’s chamber. "You have until moonrise,...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded SutraThe shuttle clicked back and forth, a rhythmic metronome counting down the hours of my servitude. I am Elias, forty-two, and the master weaver of Oakhaven, a title that carries more weight in debt than in honor. My hands were steady, though my mind was not. The commission from Guild Master Aldric was the Sutra, a tapestry of such complexity that the wool itself seemed to resist the loom’s...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale BridgeThe arch was failing, and Elias knew it in the marrow of his hands before the first stone shifted, a deep, grinding protest that traveled up his forearms and settled in the hollow of his chest where his father’s voice used to live. He pressed his palms against the wet, slick granite of the central pier, his fingers digging into the mortar joints as if he could physically hold the weight of the...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant GardenThe brass key in my hand was cold, colder than the iron gates of the city, and it felt wrong in my palm, as if the metal had developed a temperature of its own distinct from the winter air. I am Elias Thorne, a warden of Oakhaven, and I had come to the undercity not for the glory of the hunt, but for the debt that had eaten into my bones for three years. The cobblestones above were etched with...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Wistful PetalThe summons came at the hour when the sun cut low and sharp across the stone floor, slicing the dust motes into visible, drifting colonies. "Elias," the clerk said, not looking up from his ledger. "Lord Vane requires your presence. Immediately." I felt the weight of the day settle into my shoulders, a heavy, wet wool that refused to dry. I was thirty-two years old, a senior guard in the Iron...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden OathThe report is due by dawn, Elias thought, watching the fog roll over the ridge. It was thick, not like steam, but like wet wool pressed against the face. He adjusted the strap of his rifle, the leather cracked and stiff from years of service in the cold. The pay was good, twelve pounds a week, but the work was rotting him from the inside out. He had twenty years of service under his belt,...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
Arabic
French
Spanish
Portuguese
Deutsch
Turkish
Dutch
Italiano
Russian
Romaian
Portuguese (Brazil)
Greek