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New original short stories every week exploring the shadows between realms. From gothic horror to epic dark fantasy.
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Fleta is fast—inhumanly fast. In a world that worships gifted champions, her speed earns her a place in the Proving: a sacred hunt where heroes are forged, broken, or devoured.
"What's down there?" "Um Wim, Wimmy old pal. Can I call you Wimmy? You're probably better off not knowing."
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"I need more, though." He said. He raised his voice with each sentence. "I've worked these mines for years. You've given me many a warning. But we need more. More than just being warned away from the worst. We need a miracle."
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"Wim? Is that you? Well, come in and tell me what went wrong after you stable that filthy beast."
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Another crack, this one louder and echoing. Timbers creaked. Eyes wide, Wim dashed up the mine. He nearly impaled his left shoulder with his pickaxe in a frenzied rush. Behind him, lumber snapped and rock roared into the shaft.
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Laughter and the light of candles spilled carelessly from the inn into the thick fog, but a familiar, pale figure with well-trimmed nails stood between me and the merriment I meant to dismantle.
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“This is your final tribute, Fetterly. Do you understand?”
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Free, novel-length web serial + completed short stories
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"Tell me, Mr. Jolly, how did you come to be in possession of Harrow Castle? Or rather, should we call it the Black Castle again, since the Harrows are no longer with us?"
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Ambrose Fetterly was sprinting down the street, yowling, pursued by an enormous dust cloud. In moments, the dust cloud chasing our accounting gadfly resolved itself...
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"Well, if there’s no… object of particular interest in town, I suppose I will simply have to do an appraisal. A very thorough appraisal."
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Did you think the story over, gentle reader? Or perhaps you and a few clever folks realized Ellie wasn’t telling the truth when she said that she left her
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Last week, dear reader, we introduced Hoddin Nutterlin's quest to retrieve Ellie Thatch's from a chest in the abandoned Harrow Castle. Let us discover this week,
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Sometimes, dear reader, the flesh is willing, but the spirit is weak. Such may be said for Hoddin Nutterlin. Hoddin the merchant has the kindest disposition of any man in
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