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The Pale TaleThe discharge papers are on the desk, Sergeant. Signed, sealed, ready for your signature." I looked at Captain Halloway. He was adjusting his cufflinks, the gold catching the gray light from the window. Outside, the factory whistles were screaming, a sound that drilled into the teeth. I held out my hand. The paper sat there, white and thin, waiting. "Read the date, Elias," Halloway said. He did...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Pale FractureThe crystal vial was warm in Elias Thorne’s palm, slick with condensation and the faint, metallic tang of the air. He held it up to the gaslight, watching the amber liquid swirl, a slow, viscous rotation that mocked the steady beat of his own failing heart. This was the Stasis Tonic, the Bureau’s greatest secret, and tonight, at the Grand Banquet of Public Order, it was to be celebrated as a...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Golden ScarThe pen in your hand is a cheap thing, a stub of blue plastic that costs less than a cup of coffee, and yet your grip on it is white-knuckled, the knuckles aching with a dull, persistent throb. You are Elias Thorne, thirty-four years old, an archivist in the Ministry of Records, and you are currently trapped in the sub-basement of the building that employs you. The year is 1942. The light here...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Distant Legend"Sign here, Hina. Just the line. It’s already done." I looked up from the pool filter basket, my hands red and stinging from the chlorine that had soaked through my gloves. The water in the backyard pool of the Tanaka estate was a murky green, choked with pine needles and the grease from the snowplow season. It was a beautiful, dead thing. I had been cleaning this pool for three years, the same...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Distant JokeI was wiping the grime from the Whispering Coin with a handkerchief that had once been white when the coach hit the first ruts of the King’s Road, and the metal began to sear against my thumb. The heat was immediate, a sharp chemical burn that smelled of ozone and old copper, and I dropped the coin into my lap before it could blister the skin further. My father had died three days prior, a slow...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Golden MirrorAct I "You cannot enter," the clerk said, his voice thin and dry as old parchment. "Protocol forbids it." I stood at the iron gate of Ewan’s estate, the wind cutting through my cloak. The light was greenish, the color of the sea before a hailstorm breaks. I am Morag Lennox, senior inquisitor for the Highland Clan Council. I wanted the Golden Mirror back. It was stolen from the vault. I wanted...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Wistful SkylineChapter One I am writing this from the cold silence of the first unit, where the walls are still damp with the smell of fresh plaster and the air tastes of iron. It has been three days since the presentation, and I can no longer remember the sound of my own voice, only the low, continuous thrum that now occupies the space where my heartbeat used to be. I am Juan Serrano, and I was a junior...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Golden RitualThe brass key sat in Elias Thorne’s palm, cold and heavy, humming against his skin like a plucked wire. It was a small object, no longer than his thumb, but the vibration traveled up his radius bone, settling in the marrow of his wrist with a frequency that made his teeth ache. He rubbed his thumb over the intricate teeth of the lock mechanism, the metal warm now from his friction, and watched...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Golden HarborAct I "Notice of Foreclosure: Property at 126 Candlewick Row, Mumbai. Sale Date: 14th November." The paper was thin, the ink smudged where Kavita Ansari’s thumb had pressed against it, and the date was a small, sharp wound in the grey light of the morning. She stood in the doorway of the decaying coastal estate, the salt air biting at her face, holding the notice like a shield against the wind....0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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