Series
Symbiotic: Chapter 30
Chapter 30 Sara spent the rest of the morning weaving through the village streets, her boots crunching softly on the packed earth. Everywhere she went, villagers paused in their work to nod or bow, offering quiet thank yous. She returned their gratitude with a smile or a nod, never lingering too long, but always asking, “What do you think the valley needs next?”
By Canyon Cappola (TheNomad)about a month ago in Fiction
The Fissure in the Frost: A Town That Pretends Not to See
They both knew, with chilling certainty, that going back home now was definitely not an option. London meant distance, yes. But it also meant walking away. From the pouch. From the child-shaped shadow in the trees. From the hands that had buckled Emilia’s knees at the edge of the platform.
By DARK TALE CO. about a month ago in Fiction
SEASON 8 - Whispers from the Lantern: The Keeper's Lament
Chapter 15 The silence was a palpable thing, a heavy blanket that settled over the entire coast. Aris and his team stood in the now-calm lantern room, a profound sense of exhaustion washing over them. The Keeper was gone. The drowned were gone. The mournful lament was gone.
By Tales That Breathe at Nightabout a month ago in Fiction
Symbiotic: Chapter 26
Chapter 26 The tavern was alive with laughter and clinking mugs. Sara sat among the villagers, a frothy ale in hand, listening to the cheers and toasts in her honor. Humans filled most of the room, but she couldn’t help admiring the variety of animalfolk scattered among them. Fox eared hunters, molefolk miners, a wolfish shepherd couple with shaggy fur and sharp grins, and others. Their presence gave the place a warmth and diversity she hadn’t expected, and for a moment she allowed herself to bask in it.
By Canyon Cappola (TheNomad)about a month ago in Fiction
The Fissure in the Frost: A Psychological Winter Mystery
Mara told herself this was a break. The cabin was perfect—a sleek, modern box of cedar and glass tucked into the quiet mouth of a snow-dense forest. It was Emilia’s idea, of course. Emilia, hyperactive and relentlessly optimistic, believed a few lungfuls of fresh mountain air, far from the city’s grime and the memory of the difficult case Mara had just closed, would act as a psychic disinfectant.
By DARK TALE CO. about a month ago in Fiction
The Dawn and the Moon
The study smelled of old parchment, stained wood, & pipe smoke. Lord Edran Ainsel sat behind his ancient desk, its surface worn smooth by generations of hands that had signed treaties, condemned traitors, and helped pen the future of Goodhollow.
By Canyon Cappola (TheNomad)about a month ago in Fiction
