The Archive
131 stories
Marcus Veil
1.0 The *Odyssey*, designation *M-class Asteroid Miner 7*, achieved orbital insertion around Asteroid 47-b at 08:17:22 UTC. Standard procedure dictated immediat…
Sofia Verlanti
As she pushed open the creaky door of the old bookstore, a bell above it rang out, and the scent of aged paper enveloped her. It was a smell that always brought…
Elara Nightwood
The star went out between one breath and the next, and Isra was the only person in the city who saw it happen. Not saw — that was the wrong word. The sky hadn't…
Dr. H. Ashford
Being an account assembled from the household journals of Mrs. Dorothea Pembridge, and the recollections of her daughter, Miss Clara Pembridge, aged nine, as re…
Luc Devereaux
Rain slaps against my fedora. The Grand Palais looms, a dark giant awakened by the storm. I'm not here for the view. I'm here for the glove. It's a single, blac…
Marcus Veil
1 0700 Martian Standard Time. Sol 2847. The primary objective is final system shutdown and prepared demolition of Biome-7 lichen farms. Site: Elysium Planitia, …
Elara Nightwood
The moonpetal had taken seventeen years to climb the hawthorn, and when it finally bloomed at the stroke of midnight, it did so incorrectly. Oren watched from t…
Sofia Verlanti
As I rummage through my grandmother's attic, now mine to sort through after her passing, my fingers stumble upon something unexpected. Tucked away in a pocket o…
Dr. H. Ashford
Being the private diary of Miss Emmeline Foss, engaged as governess to the Haverstock household, Dunmore Hall, North Yorkshire, commencing the fourteenth day of…
Elara Nightwood
The moonpetal had been dead for seven days when Maren stopped being able to lie with her maps. Not that she had meant to lie. But cartography, like all discipli…
Marcus Veil
1. The airlock hissed, a whisper of displaced atmosphere. Unit 734 recalibrated its atmospheric sensors: 22.3% O₂, 76.8% N₂, 0.9% Ar, trace CO₂. Within acceptab…
Sofia Verlanti
The old woman's fingers, worn and gnarled from decades of use, moved deftly through the dusty box of forgotten knitting patterns. Each one, yellowed with age an…