The Lunar Bloom
## The Lunar Bloom The biting wind clawed at Albrecht’s threadbare coat, a stark echo of the fever that gnawed at Prague. He walked with a stoop forged from years hunched over simmering pots and cryptic texts, the cobblestones slick…
Historical Fiction
Stories set in specific historical periods, blending fact and fiction
Read MoreThe Lunar Bloom
Echo Bloom
## Echo Bloom The rain tasted like wet slate. Not the clean, metallic tang of a storm brewing, but the aged mineral taste of something ancient, unearthed. Elara spat, pushing a strand of damp auburn hair from her face. The…
The Silk & Steel Knot
## The Silk & Steel Knot The dust tasted of cinnamon and regret. Old Man Tiber, they called him – though few knew his true name – adjusted the worn silk scarf shielding his face from the relentless Beijing sun.…
The Serpent’s Spine
## The Serpent’s Spine The salt spray tasted like betrayal. Lin, barely nineteen and masquerading as a junior cartographer’s assistant, clung to the railing of the *Yongle*, watching the Java Sea bleed into a bruised sunset. He wasn’t charting currents,…
The Bloom & the Blade
## The Bloom & the Blade The scent of dried chrysanthemum and aged paper clung to Mei’s fingers. Dust motes danced in the single shaft of sunlight slicing through the high window of the Imperial Library’s Annex. She traced a…
The Ash Bloom Cartography
## The Ash Bloom Cartography Old Man Tiber hadn’t smelled real salt air in forty years. Dust motes danced in the single shaft of light piercing his workshop’s gloom, illuminating layers of parchment stacked like forgotten strata. He traced a…
The Static Between Stars
## The Static Between Stars The chipped Formica of the diner booth felt cold under Leo Klein’s elbows. July 19th, 1985. Cologne tasted like weak coffee and regret. Rain hammered against the plate glass window, blurring Alfredstrasse into streaks of…
Dust & Chrome
## Dust & Chrome The Lockheed Electra shuddered, a metal bird fighting the Gulf Coast chop. Amelia traced the coastline with a gloved finger on the sectional chart, her gaze distant. Not toward Florida, not today. South. Far south. The…
The Stitch & Stone
## The Stitch & Stone The scent of jasmine hung thick, almost cloying, in the humid Charleston air. Not the sweet perfume of gardens, but a sharper, bruised fragrance clinging to damp cotton. Eliza pressed a handkerchief – one of…
The Weight of Wings
## The Weight of Wings Dust motes danced in the single shaft of sunlight slicing through the warped planks of Old Man Tiber’s cabin. Silas traced the lines on the worn map with a calloused thumb, the parchment smelling of…
The Beekeeper’s Compass
## The Beekeeper’s Compass The scent of beeswax and damp stone clung to Adelheid like a second skin. Dust motes danced in the single shaft of sunlight piercing the apothecary’s window, illuminating rows of labeled jars. Not remedies for coughs…
The Weaver’s Echoes
Serpentweed stained his spectacles emerald in twilight. The colony-scale signal weaver ⅛ replica transmitted not maps, news decreesorslads–chronographs – *experiences recorded live when touched-linked*—felt grainy for many times cycles – an inherent bottleneck rendering accuracy abysம possible due only too-constant…
The Sparrow and the Sweep
The October chill bit through Thomas’s patched coat, each gust off the Thames a slap in the face. Cobblestones slicked with drizzle reflected the gaslights in distorted halos. He tasted soot, even with the damp air. It clung to everything…
Dublin’s Forgotten Beast
The chipped stone bit into my palms as I scaled the tenement wall. Dublin throbbed below, a raw nerve stretched tight. Not from the fighting, not yet. It was the *other* thing. The shadow slipping between alleys, faster than a…
The Sight of Janek
The fever rattled Janek’s bones. Not the heat, though that clung like wet wool, but the *seeing*. It began with soot. The way it swirled from the flues, settling not as darkness, but as… shapes. Patterns. Like the butcher’s tally…