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The Distant ThresholdThe notice was stamped in red ink, the paper brittle as dry bark, dated the third of November, 1974. It stated that Toivo Laitinen, Senior Warden, was to report to the Distant Threshold immediately, his request for medical leave denied due to the critical nature of the boundary maintenance. The words were bureaucratic, cold, and absolute, mirroring the iron grip of the parish council who viewed...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
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The Faded ShieldThe letter lay on the kitchen table, the paper yellowed and brittle at the edges, smelling of dust and old wax. It was from the estate solicitor, informing you that the heir, Lord Blackwood, had died without issue. The Thornwood estate, with its crumbling turrets and overgrown gardens, would revert to the Crown unless a steward could prove the lineage of the family crest. You, Elias, forty-two...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
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The Wistful SkylineREQUISITION FORM 7-A: OXYGEN SUBSCRIPTION, MONTHLY. APPLICANT: SOMKIT WONGCHAN. STATUS: DENIED. INSUFFICIENT CREDITS. The paper was damp, the ink bleeding into a brownish smear that looked less like a refusal and more like a bruise. Somkit held it over the open window of the comms relay shed, where the wind from the klongs carried the salt-tang of the sea, a smell that had invaded the city...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
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The Golden FarceChapter One "Did you think the gold would save you, or was it only the weight of the lie you carried?" Ayesha Durrani asked, her voice low in the high court of the walled city, where the air hung thick with the dust of old stone and the dry cold that preserved everything in the archives. She stood before the bench, her hands resting on the railing, feeling the chill seep into her knuckles, a...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
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The Pale ShadowsThe final signature was due by noon, Roisin said, her pen hovering over the ledger. She stood before the vast plate glass of the Ashford Textile Mill’s main office, the dry thunder of the wind rattling the frames outside. The glass was cold to the touch, a slab of industrial silence that reflected her back at her, pale and distorted by the curvature of the pane. Roisin Prendergast had spent...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
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The Golden MythAct I In Oros, the city built in the throat of a dead volcano, the ground did not forgive weight. Denna Pell, a weaver of forty-two years, knew this in his knees before he knew it in his mind. He stood in the reclamation yard, the air heavy with rust and dried thorn, watching the sun bleed out over the wire fences that lined the crater’s rim. The Guild Master’s deadline for the Royal Commission...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
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The Distant MachineThe stone sat in Elias Thorne’s palm, cold and rough as a river pebble, though he had held it for three days without feeling the chill of the cellar air. It was a jagged fragment of obsidian, no larger than a walnut, etched with symbols that seemed to shift when viewed from the corner of the eye, and it was the only thing in the outpost of Kael that did not whisper. He set it on the desk before...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
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The Distant PromiseForty-two of the Amber Stair was a number Homer Hutchins had memorized in his first year of service, a detail of the counting room’s architecture that meant nothing to the men below and everything to the officers above. The air in the barracks smelled of damp wool and old iron, a scent that had seeped into the lining of his coat over twelve years of guarding the Fens. He stood before Captain...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
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The Golden RitualThe rot started in the small finger of my left hand. It was a dull, grayish pulse under the skin, a sign that the King’s decree had finally found me. I am Silas, thirty-two, and I have guarded the High Throne for twelve years. I wanted to keep my post. I wanted to hold the line until the end of my days, but the tremor in my hand betrayed my age. The uncanny element of our court is the Golden...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
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