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The Wistful MirrorThe notice, stamped in the bureaucratic red of the municipal office, read: EVICTION PENDING. 30 DAYS. Henryk Pawlak held the paper until the edges softened against his thumb, the ink bleeding slightly into the dry skin of his palm. He was thirty-two, an archivist by trade, a triage clerk by necessity, and he stood in the hallway of his walk-up apartment on the Amber Stair, unit one hundred and...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Pale VerdictChapter One "You have missed the decimal again, Gil." The voice did not come from the room, but from the glass of the monitor, a reflection that moved independently of the boy’s head. Gil Strachan, twelve years old and already weary in the way only children who work too hard can be weary, adjusted the dial on the infusion pump. The sterile white of the hospital ward on the Isle of Skye was...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Pale MeridianCould a stain wash out of skin? Fernand Fournier held his hands up to the slant of morning light, watching the iron-dark fluid seep into the whorls of his palms. He had spent twenty years as a gendarme in this frontier county, sharpening knives for farmers who never asked where the steel came from, and now, at thirty-two, he wanted only the pension that his service promised. The White Orchard...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Pale FractureHow long can a man hold a secret before it grows roots in his lungs? Simin Naderi stood at the window of the counting room, his knuckles white against the glass, watching the bioluminescent moss creep up the brickwork of the merchant house. It was a living thing, pale and pulsing, feeding on the fear that permeated the salt district like damp air. His joints ached, a deep, grinding pain that...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Golden SuspectThe letter lay on the desk, its edges yellowed and soft from three months of handling, the ink faded to a faint grey that matched the dampness creeping up from the cellar floor. It was a formal notice of suspension, issued by the Imperial Mint’s Office of Internal Affairs, detailing a minor discrepancy in the silver assay logs from the previous autumn. I read it again, tracing the dry line of...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Wistful SagaAct I Ignacio Aguilar stood before the throne, the iron pauldrons on his shoulders weighing down his spine, and asked for a farm. He was thirty-two, a veteran of the frontier wars, and his younger sister, Elena, had no roof that would hold against the coming winter. The Emperor, a man whose face seemed carved from the same cold stone as the palace walls, cited a new decree on "spiritual...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Wistful CrossroadsChapter One "Item 44: Powder, red, unclassified. Weight: two taels. Origin: Unknown. Custodian: Li Guodong." The ledger entry sat on the desk, the ink still wet and heavy under the weight of the quill, a small dark anchor in a sea of dry paper. Li Guodong stared at the line, his eyes burning from the strain of reading by the guttering oil lamp, the air in the counting room heavy with damp paper...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Wistful SilenceAct I "You are late, Hassan," the Duke said, his voice flat as a stone in the Nile. "The tax boat arrives early this year. We have no time for your dreams." I stood in the center of the keep, the cold seeping through my wool tunic, my right hand twitching at my side. It was a small, involuntary spasm, but in the silence of the room, it sounded like a crack of dry wood. I wanted to execute the...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Distant GhostThe key was cold. It sat in Elias Thorne’s palm, a rusted iron thing no longer than his thumb, heavy with the weight of five years of silence. Rain slicked the courtyard of Blackwood Asylum, turning the flagstones into a dark mirror that reflected nothing but the grey sky above. He was thirty-two, a sergeant in the Royal Signals, and he had been stripped of his rank by the tribunal three hours...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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