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The Pale BridgeElias. The name hangs in the air, thick as the wine they are pouring. "Elias, stand up," the King says. His voice is slurred, heavy with the taste of dark red grapes. "You look pale. Are you ill, Captain?" I stand. My legs feel like lead. The hall is a roar of laughter, the clatter of silver on stone, the scrape of chairs. I am thirty-two. I have served the Crown for twelve years. I have bled...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Pale ShadowsChapter One "NOTICE: All structural modifications to the Glass Citadel are hereby suspended pending review of aesthetic purity. Silence is mandatory." Sigrid Kvist read the notice pinned to the door of the infirmary, the paper yellowing in the dim, perpetual twilight of the room. She was thirty years old, her hands rough from the toll booth work on the northern cape, and she held a recipe book...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Distant GhostDo you know how much a vial weighs? Francisco Xavier held it in his palm, feeling the cold glass press against the sweat of his skin. It was a small thing, no heavier than a coin, yet it felt like it contained the entire weight of the river. He was thirty-four years old, an engineer who had not touched a blueprint in three years, and he stood in the windowless office of the Chief Administrator,...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Pale GardenChapter One "You cannot sign that paper, Riku Matsumoto," the magistrate said, his finger hovering over the ink. "The company owns the debt. You own nothing but your shame." I stood in the harvest hall, the air heavy with roasted pork and the metallic tang of fear. Around us, the workers laughed, their voices bouncing off the low ceilings, but I heard only the clock on the wall, ticking toward...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Wistful AsylumMunicipal Survey Office, Cairo. Form 7-B: Notice of Discrepancy. The coastal boundary, Sector 4, is flagged for re-verification. All instruments must be calibrated before the final stamp. The smell of wet chalk and old paper clung to the air in the projection booth, a dry, dusty scent that coated the back of my throat. I stood before the glass, my hands steady as I aligned the brass compass...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Distant CrownJuan Cortes coughed, a wet, tearing sound that shook the dust from the ceiling beams of the scriptorium. He was forty-five, and his lungs felt like crushed paper, wet and heavy. The Ash Plague had taken the summer, and now it was eating his winter. He leaned over the desk, his fingers trembling as he held the quill, the ink pooling in the nib. He was not writing history. He was chasing a ghost....0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Faded SutraElara. The steward called her name from the head of the table, his voice cracking under the weight of the noise. The banquet hall of Oakhaven was a sea of candlelight and grease, the air thick with the smell of roasted boar and the sweat of three hundred men who had not slept in two days. Elara stood at the edge of the dais, her hands trembling not from cold, but from the metallic taste on her...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Pale LetterCould a man drink his own name and still walk upright? I woke with the taste of chalk in my mouth, the White Tower rising in the dark of my mind, a structure of pale stone that mirrored my own hollow face. I am Clifford Zorn, thirty-two, a scribe in the ancient city of Keth, though the air here smells of wet wool and rotting cabbage, and the light comes in at a slant that makes the shadows look...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Distant JokeThe light in the manor hall was the color of old pewter, thin and sharp as a knife’s edge, cutting through the dust that hung in the still air. Thomas stood before the high table, his hands trembling not from cold but from the weight of the silence that had settled over the room. Sir Aldous, the aging knight who had trained Thomas since the boy was seven, did not look up from the parchment he...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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