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The Golden MythThe rain had been falling for three hours, a steady, grey curtain that turned the mud of the courtyard into a thick, sucking paste. Elias Thorne stood by the window of the abandoned customs house, counting the seconds between the beats of his own heart. One. Two. Three. A pause. Then four. The arrhythmia was a weight in his chest, a stone swallowed whole, dragging his pulse into irregular,...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Pale BridgeChapter One “You cannot leave the toll booth while the ledger is open, Xiu Gao. The ink is still wet, and the bridge does not care for your grief.” Mei stood at the edge of the wet plate, her face a ghostly white in the developing solution, while Xiu Gao watched her from the dark of the studio. The air in the tong lau was heavy, not with the usual humidity of the harbor, but with a cloying...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Pale BonsaiAct I Olumide Ogunleye would later tell himself that the weight of the pot was the only thing that kept his hands from shaking, a heavy, clay anchor against the fever of his skin, but then, in the suffocating heat of the palace vestry, it felt less like a burden and more like a secret he was swallowing whole. He was a low-ranking scribe, a man who had spent thirty years grinding ink and copying...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Pale DanceHong Luo sat in the infirmary, his left hand wrapped in linen that smelled of turpentine and stale blood, watching the rain streak the windowpane of the temple annex. The pain was a dull, constant hum, a physical anchor to a new, quiet existence, free from the need to conquer. He remembered the dream, the recurring one, where his father’s severed hand reached for him, not in anger, but in a...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Faded SutraChapter One "You’ll pay the tithe in full, or the god takes your name." Tovar Maiden did not answer. He stood at the edge of the salt flats, the wind pulling at the hem of his coat, his breath misting in the cold air. The ferry crossing lay behind him, the flag rope slapping against the wooden pole with a rhythmic, hollow thud. He was forty-two years old, and the archivist of a dead god’s...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Distant CrownThe mirror on my desk was broken. It had been for weeks, a jagged constellation of glass shards reflecting the gray light of the open-plan office, but I had not yet found the will to sweep it away. I was forty-two years old, a senior actuary at Meridian Insurance Group, and I was staring at my own fractured reflection while the clock on the wall ticked toward the end of the quarter. My goal was...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Faded BouquetChapter One Could a man drink the silence and still keep his throat dry? Mzee Warsame held the quill steady, the nib hovering a hair’s breadth above the vellum, waiting for the breath to leave the room. The candle guttered, throwing long, jagged shadows against the damp stone of the scriptorium, where the air tasted of wet wool and old ink. He was thirty years old, though his hands looked...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Distant NightmareChapter One Every man knows the weight of his own silence before the noise takes it from him. I knew it standing in the break room of the night warehouse, the linoleum peeling under my boots, the air thick with the damp rot of the wet season that had refused to end for three months. The lamp above the table flickered, casting a sickly yellow glow that made the dust motes look like suspended...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Pale TaleThe air in the scriptorium tasted of rust and old ink. Anirut Chaiyasit woke with blood on his lips, the dream of the pale, faceless figure still clinging to the back of his eyes like a film of grime. He wiped his mouth with a sleeve that had been patched three times, the fabric rough and stiff with dried sweat. The stone walls of the orbital station’s lower ring hummed with the low, constant...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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