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 RitualAct I Luce Gaspard’s hands trembled as he held the fractured gold signet ring over the heat lamp, the metal glowing a dull, angry orange. He was thirty-two, an archivist by trade, though tonight he was a jeweler, working in the cramped quarters of the seed-library night desk where the air smelled of ozone and wet cypress knees. The ring was his father’s, a piece of heirloom brass that had been...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant GhostThe key is cold, a sliver of iron that bites into the meat of your thumb as you turn it. You are Elias Thorne, and you have held this position for six years, a border warden in the crumbling estate of Blackwood Hall, your hands roughened by the damp and the labor of keeping the boundaries intact. You wake from the dream of the shattered stone path, the fracture lines running deep and jagged, a...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale AltarThorne. The cry cut through the dust, sharp and commanding, from the rear of the column. Captain Elias Thorne did not look back. He knew the voice; it was the voice of his own shadow, elongated by the midday sun on the road to Acre. He was forty-two years old, and his knees ached with a dull, persistent throb that the heat did nothing to alleviate. In his left hand, wrapped in oiled canvas, he...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant WhispersChapter One Ragna Nystrom pressed the vial against Kael’s lips. The glass was cold, slick with condensation, and it bit into the meat of her thumb. She held his head back with her other hand, feeling the wet heat of his breath against her knuckles. The rotunda of the Glass Citadel hummed, a low vibration that traveled up through the soles of her boots and settled in her teeth. Outside, the...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden MirrorThe thirty-four-year-old Thị Hoa woke with the taste of gold leaf in her mouth, a metallic film that clung to her teeth and the inside of her cheeks, the residue of a dream where she was drowning in a river of molten currency while the water stayed dry. She sat up in the narrow bed of her rented room above the wool grading shed, the damp seeping through the thin mattress and into her bones, and...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale TaleThe paper was thin, flimsy as onion skin, and it smelled of the damp brick floor where it had been left to dry. Elias Thorne held it up to the single bare bulb hanging from the ceiling, the light buzzing a low, sick note that vibrated in his teeth. It was a summons. Not a polite request, but a command from the Bureau to report to Captain Halloway’s office before the sun rose. Elias folded the...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden HarborThe hammer falls with a ring that splits the air, a sound so sharp it feels like a bone snapping, and the piston beneath your hand shudders, giving way not with a crash but with a long, groaning exhale that sends a plume of black soot swirling into the amber glow of the furnace. You are Elias Thorne, thirty-four years old, and your knuckles are split open, the blood mixing with the grease on...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant ThresholdAct I The fields of County Leitrim were named for the dead, a cartographic ghost that haunted every acre of the border. Eamon O'Casey sat in the reading room, the air heavy with damp wool and old paper, his hands trembling over a shears that had once cut thistle like silk. He was sixty-four, and the winter was closing in like a fist, threatening to kill the last of his medicinal herbs before he...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden FarceOakhaven stirred under the dry wind, the clay roads cracking as the morning light hit the tin roofs of the loft district. The air smelled of stale coffee and iron filings. Isla Paisley stood in the doorway of the workshop, her hands trembling over the mortar, the vibration of her age a constant, grinding truth. She needed the Golden Tonic, the volatile brew that traded years for health, to save...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
Arabic
French
Spanish
Portuguese
Deutsch
Turkish
Dutch
Italiano
Russian
Romaian
Portuguese (Brazil)
Greek