Arc 6: Bleed Quietly

The cathedral was beautifully hollow, an expanse of masterful architecture no matter where one looked. Great arches held the ceiling loftily high, with painted glass windows dripping the evening light down onto the many rows of pews that faced the pulpit. No one sat in the pews but me, twisting the hem of my dress […]

The shuddering impacts on the reinforced steel door were enough to send ripples through the glass of brandy in Sullivan’s hand. He stared down past the amber surface to what lay on the side table beneath it.  The continuous attempts to breach his safe room would have shaken a lesser man, but since a young

The Goblin felt the katana sink deep into his gut, slicing through fat and muscle, its momentum slowing as it perforated an organ before coming to rest. The pain signals from all the damage danced pleasantly in his head. That isn’t something most people would enjoy, a small voice in the back of his head

The voice from the Tree pulsated directly into my head. It was violating, invasive in a way that I hadn’t imagined was possible. My thoughts were not alone. “You are not yet ripe,” the voice said. I shuddered. “Who are you?” “The Messenger of God.” Dread filled my mouth. “What do you want?” Despite the

The gut wrenching cry shook the building, vibrating through the soles of my feet. It came from a man who found himself in a crowd of mirror images, like a bad dream, competing for the favor of their lost partner. Helen’s trump card. I cursed my lack of foresight as I leapt up the stairs

I walked towards the apartment entrance alone. Every step felt final, punctuated by the waves of anger that screamed out every window of the looming grey brick tower. The orbs in the sky were like the eyes of a giant, hungrily leaning ever closer.  The whole world felt alive, but not in the natural sense,

We were being followed.  I’d caught glimpses of it at the edges of rooftops, the movements starkly noticeable against the backdrop of a red pulsating sky. Perhaps verticality had been finally cemented in my mind as a way to get the jump on your target. The glimpses told me our stalker was too big to

“See you at the bottom.” The rope swung me back and I planted my feet solidly on the cliff face. Letting the rope slide slowly through my grip, I descended, scraping my armoured feet against the rock. Falling was something I’d grown accustomed to and even at such a height the harness quelled any lingering

In the aftermath of the gunfight H.E.S.P. had come out on top. They had sustained some casualties: two killed, eight with nonlethal injuries, but the Red Ring had been decimated in return. Bodies lay scattered across the forest, the trees riddled with bullet holes and droplets of blood. Most of the Red RIng were dead,

I couldn’t breathe. The burning in my throat made me cough, but nothing came out, instead the cough sent ripples of pain into my lungs. “Let go,” Terry ordered, his voice sounding distant. The Shape that was thinking for itself didn’t react. Its focus was solely on me. “Stop the threat,” it said in a