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The Distant Wound"Three days, Fadumo. That is all the time left before the Bureau takes her." The inspector’s voice was flat, a dry rattle in the recycled air. I stood in the kitchen of our habitat unit, the ceiling stains spreading like a slow, dark flower across the white paneling. Amina was not there. She was in the holding cells on the lower level, waiting for the preliminary measures. I held the vase in my...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Pale Altar"Put the wrench down, June. You’re going to crack the drywall." The voice belonged to Dale, her ex-husband, standing in the doorway of the basement with his arms crossed. He looked thin, his shirt hanging loose over a frame that had once held more meat. June did not look up. She was elbow-deep in the crawlspace, the air thick with the dust of old insulation and the metallic tang of rust. The...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Golden SongAct I "Did you hear the gold?" the man in the glass-walled office asked, his voice flat and dry as the acorns scattered across the floor of the habitat module. Karin Fink, thirty-four and sharp-eyed, looked up from the policy form she was shredding, the paper curling into white ribbons that smelled of ozone and old dust. She wanted to prove him fraudulent, to secure her promotion by exposing...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Wistful ThroneChapter One Do you remember the weight of a name before it is spoken? I ask because the paper remembers, and I am losing the ability to forget. The light in the archive room was the color of old blood, a deep, stagnant red that made the shadows in the corners look like bruises. I was cataloging the Green Vein, a fungus that grew only on the ledgers of the dead, whispering their final regrets to...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Pale AltarThe white stone altar stood in the center of a desert that had no horizon, its surface unblemished by sand or wind, and Elias Thorne woke with the taste of dry dust in his mouth and the specific, crushing weight of his mortgage in his chest. He was thirty-four, a border patrol officer with twelve years of service, and the only thing standing between his family and eviction was the promotion to...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Distant LegendChapter One "Item 4: Missing inventory, shift 0600-1400. Value: $12.50." I read the note three times. The paper was cheap, the kind we used for the dock logs, stained with grease near the edge. It sat on my desk in the station, next to the cold cup of coffee I’d left for the night shift. I am Bernadette Patin. I have worn the badge for twelve years. Twelve years of checking locks, signing...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Distant CrownThe ink is wet, Georgi, but the stain is old." Abbot Iosif stood in the doorway of the scriptorium, his shadow stretching long across the stone floor, cutting off the last of the afternoon light that fell from the high window. Georgi Beridze did not look up from the parchment. He was forty-two years old, and his hands, usually steady enough to bind a spine with thread, trembled slightly as he...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Golden FarceAct I The downriver district of New Orleans hummed with the low, industrial thrum of the generation ship Aurora, its hull plates groaning against the magnetic moorings as the first light of the 2050s pierced the thin, alpine haze that hung over the marshlands. Here, the air tasted of ozone and wet silt, a permanent fixture of the colony where the charter remained unread and the debts were...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Golden MythThe quill slips in your hand, the nib dragging a jagged tear across the vellum, and Brother Anselm does not look up from his cup of small ale. "You are hesitating, Thomas. The ink dries fast in this cold, and the Bishop’s patience is slower still." You stare at the wet black line, a vein of darkness pulsing on the parchment, and you see your own face reflected in the sheen of the pigment,...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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