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The Faded ChronicleChapter One The shipyards of Belfast groaned under the weight of the second rain, a physical fact that turned the cobblestones into slick mirrors reflecting the grey iron of the cranes. Declan Kilbride walked the wet pavement, his handkerchief pressed against his mouth, feeling the metallic taste of blood on his tongue as he coughed into the damp air. He was thirty-four, a junior clerk with a...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Faded Portrait"Thorne." The voice came from the hallway, thin and sharp against the damp air of the parlor. Elias did not turn. He sat in the high-backed chair that had belonged to his father, the velvet worn to the color of dried blood, and stared at the orchid on the windowsill. It was a Phalaenopsis, or had been, before the neglect had stripped it of its dignity. Now it was a tangle of pale, waxy leaves...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Distant ThresholdChapter One "Item 44-B: Debt incurred for the sin of patience. Value: One (1) year of memory. Status: Unpaid." The ledger line was written in ink that had dried to the color of dried blood, and Anders Bakken stared at it until the words blurred into a single, dark smear on the parchment. He was twelve years old, a junior clerk in the Bureau of Erased Names, a damp institution built into the...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Pale ExileHina Saito remembered the weight of the ring before the cold. It sat in her left palm, the gold band worn thin at the edges, a relic of a promise she had pawned for gas money three winters ago. The metal was warm from her skin, a small, stubborn heat against the February air that bit through her wool coat. She stood at the edge of the quarry lake, the water black and still, reflecting the...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Pale GardenThe locket was cold against my chest, a small silver heart that held my mother’s face in tarnish and time. I kept it hidden beneath my shirt, where the metal bit into my skin with every breath I took. St. Jude’s Orphanage smelled of boiled cabbage and stale urine, a scent that had seeped into the very stones of our walls. I was twelve years old, and I was afraid. Mr. Vane stood at the head of...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Distant ThresholdThe cold hit Elias Thorne before the door did. It was a physical weight, a damp chill that settled into his joints as he stepped off the night shift bus at the edge of the Blackwood Mill complex. It was November, 1924, and the air smelled of wet coal and rust. Elias pulled his collar up. He was thirty-two years old, and he had been the night auditor for six years. He wanted the senior post. He...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
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The Golden MazeThe wine in the chalice was the color of old blood, thick and sweet, and I watched King Aldric drink it while the golden vines crept silently up the stone pillars of the feast hall. I am Elias Thorne, Captain of the Royal Guard, and my duty is to protect the King, a duty that has curdled into a rot in my stomach as I watch the living labyrinth, the Golden Maze, consume the light and the sanity...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Distant JokeChapter One The border town of Kael-Vor hummed with the low, grinding friction of two languages clashing over the price of grain, a sound that settled into the bones of the stone streets before the ice storm even began to bite at the elms. In the reclamation yard of dead machines, where rusted gears lay in heaps like shed teeth, Ivor Yarr weighed the last of the soil quota, his hands trembling...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Golden GreenhouseThe dream of the rotting fruit had settled into her bones before the door opened, a heavy, wet pressure in her chest that smelled of overripe persimmons and damp earth. Soo-ah Yoon stood in the hallway of twenty-three of Corvid Lane, her bare feet cold on the linoleum, and watched Mr. Park lean against the frame, his face a mask of bureaucratic indifference. He did not ask how she was; he...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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