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 ScarThe mud in Veldt did not dry. It held the heat of the dead, a wet, copper tang that coated the back of Hana Novotny’s throat. She stood in the trench, her hands slick with the golden ichor of the enemy, the substance pulsing against her skin like a second, faster heartbeat. She needed to survive the night to deliver the coded letter to Major Kael, but the shelling had stopped, and the silence...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Wistful AshesChapter One "Requisition Form 40-B: Data Retrieval. Sector: Neo-Rome. Priority: Critical. Author: Esposito, L. (Enforcer, Grade 2). Item: Physical Ledger, Vault 9. Status: Denied/Overridden." Luigi Esposito held the slip of paper in his left hand, the ink smudged by the grit that coated everything in the backstreet, a fine grey powder that tasted of copper and old rain. He was thirty-four years...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant LegendThe iron key was cold, heavier than it looked, and it sat in your palm like a stone pulled from a riverbed, its surface worn smooth by three years of Arthur’s thumb rubbing against the metal. You held it up to the gray light of the municipal office, watching the way the metal caught the gloom, and for a moment you forgot the tremor in your fingers, the way your skin had begun to peel at the...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale VerdictThe letter lay on the kitchen table, its edges curling slightly in the humid air, the ink a stark, bureaucratic black against the cream of the institutional stationery. Elara Vane held the pen in her right hand, the nib hovering over the signature line, while her left hand rested flat on the wood, trembling with a fatigue that seemed to emanate from the bone itself. She did not sign it. She...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden ScarThe pickaxe bit into the salt crystal with a sound like a bone snapping, and I felt the shock travel up my arm, settling in the hollow of my throat where the Golden Scar pulsed a dull, rhythmic heat. I am Silas Vane, forty-two years old, and I have spent the last three winters digging this tunnel, not for the salt which is worth only a pittance a pound, but for the three feet of earth and stone...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden HarborThe Royal Archive smelled of damp wool and old ink. Thyra Moen packed her satchel, her hands trembling as she wrapped the shattered porcelain cup in a scrap of linen. She was thirty-two, a retired stagecoach guard, and she needed the money to buy medicine for her sister, who lay dying in the canal house. The cup was stolen from the Duke’s study, a piece of her father’s legacy, but to the Crown...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Wistful IncenseChapter One You remember the light first, how it slanted through the high windows of the old house, cutting through the dust like a blade. It was the afternoon of the feast, the air heavy with roasting duck and the sharp, acrid bite of the Wistful Incense. Celeste Hebert stood at the head of the table, her hands steady on the silver tray, though her mind was a churning sea of debt and duty. She...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Wistful MirrorChapter One The river county stretched out in a grey smear of coal dust and wet wool, the air tasting of iron and damp rot. Tao Guo stood at the edge of the blacksmith’s yard, his boots sinking into the mud that had hardened into clay over the last three days of rain. He was thirty years old, an inquisitor for the borderlands, and he carried a satchel heavy with the weight of a failing soul....0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant BladeThe air in the Imperial Mint tasted of ozone and old blood. Leila Mahfouz stood alone in the obsidian hall, her fingers white-knuckled around the hilt of a rusted dagger. She was thirty-two, an orbital farm hand who had traded her seeds for this single, forbidden task. Her father lay in the cell below, his lungs filling with the grey sludge of the returning ice, and she needed to forge a coin...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
Arabic
French
Spanish
Portuguese
Deutsch
Turkish
Dutch
Italiano
Russian
Romaian
Portuguese (Brazil)
Greek