The Wish Sketcher
The chipped porcelain of the mug warmed Elara’s palms, the lukewarm tea doing little for the knot in her stomach. Rain lashed against the coffee shop window, blurring the neon glow of the city. She tapped the screen of her…
fantasy
Read MoreThe Wish Sketcher
Stone and Echoes
The dust tasted like old pennies. Old pennies and regret. Kaelen traced a fingertip across the basalt face of a crumbling sentinel. It wasn’t stone, not exactly. More like…compressed night. The air hummed, a low thrum against his teeth. He’d…
Echoes of the Lost Dynasties
Elka traced the brittle edge of the parchment. Dust motes danced in the single shaft of light slicing the gloom of the archive. Each fragment felt less like paper, more like sun-warmed bone. She wasn’t *searching* for anything specific, not…
The Weight of Sorrow
The scent of cut grass and diesel hung thick in the late afternoon air. Astralen guided the mower along the edge of Lord Elmsworth’s prize-winning clover, the engine a steady drone against the rising wind. Not exactly the life he…
The Shadow’s Hand
The chipped gargoyle warmed beneath Zeush’s feet, the stone radiating the day’s faint heat. Below, the city of Veridium pulsed—a network of shadowed alleys and glittering towers, all choking on ambition. He adjusted his grip, talons scoring the weathered stone.…
The Lighthouse Keeper’s Secret
The salt spray tasted of regret. Old Man Tiber, they called the lighthouse, though no one remembered a man ever tending it. Just the mechanism, grinding gears and a lens the size of a carriage wheel. It sat on Widow’s…
The Skyfall Echoes
The peaks clawed at a bruised sky, broken teeth against the fading light. Dust devils danced across the shale, ghosts of arguments long settled. Old Man Tiber, they called me, though I hadn’t earned the name through age. It was…
The Echoing Fall
The dust motes danced in the single shaft of light piercing the ruined temple. It smelled of wet stone and something else…something like burnt honey and regret. Old Man Tiber, they called him, though he wasn’t *that* old—more weathered, like…
Silencio
Elisa’s shoulders bunched, a tight knot beneath worn leather. Dust motes danced in the single shaft of light slicing through the high, barred window. Years had scraped against her, leaving a residue of mistrust. “Release it.” Forian’s fingers, calloused and…
The Glovemaker’s Network
The scent of beeswax and rosewater clung to Antoine like a second skin. Dust motes danced in the single shaft of sunlight slicing through the gloom of his workshop, illuminating a half-finished glove—ivory silk, almost translucent. He didn’t sell warmth,…
Runecarves
The wind tasted of grit and regret. Lysara cursed, picking bits of shale from her braid. Below, the valley sprawled, stitched with silver rivers. Not the view she’d anticipated. Not at all. She’d pictured a graceful landing, a triumphant return.…
Enchanted Amulet
Discovery In the bustling town of Willow Creek, nestled between rolling hills and shimmering lakes, twelve-year-old Lily Monroe lived in an old house with her grandmother. One sunny afternoon, while rummaging through Grandma’s attic amidst dusty trunks and cobwebbed corners,…
Shimmering Reflection
The rain hammered against the windows of Silas’s antique shop, a steady, insistent drumming. Silas, a man who smelled of beeswax and old paper, dusted a particularly ornate mirror when he noticed it. The reflection wasn’t quite right. Behind the…