Stories set in specific historical periods, blending fact and fiction
## The Gilded Fracture The rain hammered Bruges, a relentless drumbeat against the cobblestones. Elias traced a finger across the cool glass of Saint Salvator’s cathedral, the seventeenth-century stained glass shimmering under the failing light. The scent of wet stone…
## Echo Bloom The wind tasted of salt and dust, a familiar sting on Elara’s skin. She adjusted the woven sun-shield over her eyes, squinting at the shimmer rising from the Sapphire Waste. Ten moons it had been since the…
## The Cartographer’s Tide The salt spray stung Elias’s cheeks as he squinted at the half-finished hull. Oak, seasoned by years of monsoon winds, smelled like damp earth and ambition. He ran a calloused hand along the curve of the…
## The Echo Weaver The rain tasted like rust. Elara spat, pushing a damp strand of auburn hair from her face. The dig site at the Whispering Peaks felt colder than usual, leaching warmth straight from her bones. Weeks she’s…
## The Clockwork Prophet The rain tasted of coal dust and regret. August in Warsaw clung thick, a humid blanket smothering the city’s limestone facades. I wiped my brow with a grimy glove, the oily residue smearing across skin already…
## The Taste of Ash The flour dusted Elara’s hands, a comforting weight. She kneaded the dough with practiced ease, the rhythmic push and pull familiar as her own heartbeat. Outside, rain lashed against the bakery’s windows—a relentless drumming that…
## The Grain Whisperers The wind tasted of wet earth and coming rain. Elias wiped the grit from his calloused palm, squinting at the twin masts of Farmer Holm’s semaphore tower. Rain threatened; a sullen gray pressed down on the…
## The River’s Cipher The wind tasted of dust and rain, a gritty film coating Li Wei’s tongue as he swept the courtyard. Red banners snapped above the gates of Pingle, a defiant splash against the grey Sichuan hills. Zhu…
## The Glacier’s Whisper The scent of chamomile and dust clung to the air, a familiar weight in Countess Elara’s salon. Flickering candlelight painted elongated shadows on the velvet drapes, highlighting the anxious lines etched around her eyes. Three women,…
## The Obsidian Bloom The air hung thick, a humid blanket clinging to Xoltan’s skin. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he stared at the glyph-etched stone, its surface slick under the flickering lamplight. Years he’d spent deciphering these intricate…
## The Cartographer’s Bloom The desert wind tasted of grit and sun-baked stone, a familiar sting against my lips. I squinted at the shimmering horizon, dust devils dancing like restless spirits across the ochre expanse. This wasn’t just any desert;…
## The Bloom & the Gear The rain smelled of wet earth and something else—something sharp, metallic. Elara clutched her threadbare shawl tighter as she hurried down Willow Creek’s main street, the damp clinging to her like a second skin.…
## The Obsidian Bloom The tremor started low, a growl beneath the cobblestones. Then it surged, throwing me against the mosaic floor of our atrium. Marble rained down, shattering against the peristyle. My mother screamed, pulling my younger brother, Titus,…
## The Coral Cartographer The air hung thick, saturated with salt and the insistent hum of unseen insects. Elodie traced a finger across the damp canvas, charcoal smudging against worn linen. The coral beach shimmered ahead, a chaotic sprawl of…
## The Sulfur Bloom Geneva traced a finger along the shimmering blue line on the computer screen. Seismic data. Not like anything she’s ever seen. Public sensors registered a steady drumbeat, the earth breathing normally. But *this*—captured by the experimental…