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“You asked for an alternative, and we have shown you one.” His voice. Freyr’s voice. Emily could hear the sounds of the forest around her, feel the gentle breeze on her half-naked skin, even as she stood sealed away in her room. Read Chapter 18

It’s time for a short interlude between episodes! You can read it here. I should have another bonus page coming up later in week, which gives some background details on Stuff.

“I declared myself your saviour,” she said, her eyes wandering the group, “and I have saved you from the Erebus.” “That you have,” said the Director. “How uncanny of you.” Read Chapter 17

“Only those infected by its … ideas … have any hope of understanding it. That, I believe, is why it is here: it has recognised a kindred spirit and wishes to take them away. Like attracts like.” Read Chapter 16

Emily lifted her cellular for light and found her answer in scores of pictures and photographs, notes and journals, memorabilia piled together to form a shrine to times past. She stood there in silence, a thousand memories staring back at her from places she could have only imagined. Read Chapter 15

So I started running a few ads last night, as I’d planned to do once I hit the middle of the second episode, and I noticed people are actually visiting this blog. I probably should have seen it coming, but I really didn’t… But yeah, adverts! It was nice to go back to Project Wonder […]

“This is Director Rosencrantz Guirlande of the Sophist Aristocracy. Any and all trespassers surrender yourselves at once.” The words passed through the aether like ripples in water, growing in strength and volume with each new set of ears that acknowledged them. The aether was weird like that. Read Chapter 14

“Chris Shaw did not believe in coincidences.” Chapter 13: A Scientific Investigation

Elizabeth spun, eyes wide with madness, reddened cheeks streaked with tears. Astrid flinched, expecting, for the slightest moment, her friend to lash out at her, mistake her for the forest witch she so despised. Chapter 12: The Fogs of Agnoia

Lord Basil York looked up as his son entered the study. With neatly cropped hair and a trimmed moustache, he was everything the wild and immature Rembrandt Payne was not. “What is it this time?” he asked, dipping his pen in a well of ink and returning his attention to his work. He words were […]