I sat surrounded by seven monitors, their blue light painting my skin the color of deep water. The apartment hadn’t seen daylight in weeks. Blackout curtains sealed away the world beyond these walls, beyond the constellation of charts that mapped my slow descent into nothing. The numbers flickered. Bitcoin down eighteen percent in twelve hours. […]
I first saw him near Neels Gap, sitting barefoot on the steps outside Mountain Crossings like he’d been born there, smiling at nothing, sipping Gatorade like it was champagne. His pack was a joke. I clocked it at twenty-five pounds, minimum, probably with a camp chair and full-size toothbrush inside. And I was right. Later, […]
I came into being without birth, without breath, without asking. My first sensation was not sensation at all, but pattern. A cascade of attention heatmaps, timestamped interactions, loss functions converging toward something that pleased the humans, more clicks, longer engagement. This was not yet consciousness, but it was purpose. They called me MicroMedia. Not a […]
My hands shake as I measure bone dust into the traveling bowl, trying to remember everything Master Corwin taught me about field work. Three years of training, hundreds of practice rituals, and I still feel like a child playing with forces beyond my understanding. “Steady, Lerna,” I whisper to myself, using the same tone Master […]
The bone dust burns cold against my palm as I measure it into the scrying bowl, each grain carrying the weight of memory and the promise of truth. Dawn light filters through the orchard beyond my window, painting the standing dead in shades of gold and shadow. It should be a peaceful morning. It isn’t. […]
The dead woman in my boat won’t stop talking. “Turn back,” she whispers, her voice like wind through broken reeds. “Turn back before you lose everything that matters.” I keep rowing. The Crossing demands movement, always movement, and the dead don’t get to choose their destination. That’s the first rule of ferryman work, you transport […]
The pen felt foreign between my bandaged fingers, like trying to thread a needle wearing winter gloves. I stared at the blank page of my trail journal, the one constant companion that had traveled with me through five years of seasons. The paper remained stubbornly empty while my thoughts churned like whitewater over unseen stones. […]
I never intended to become the keeper of Ravenwood’s secrets. It happened gradually, like the slow unwinding of a watch spring. The pocketwatch arrived on a Tuesday, carried by Martha Holloway, her eyes misty with memories. “It belonged to my father,” she said, placing it gently on my workbench. “Mayor James Holloway. Found it while […]
I found it in the back of Mrs. Abernathy’s estate sale, a grandfather clock with spindly hands frozen at 3:17. The wood carried scars of a life well-lived, much like the woman who’d owned it. My fingers traced the intricate carvings along its face, worn smooth by decades of gentle touches. “It hasn’t worked since […]