From the high tower of Scarlet Ridge, I, Alistair Sterling, cast my gaze upon a firmament of unbroken clarity, the stars like pinpricks in a shroud of black velvet. The waxing gibbous moon, a pale and…
Within the cloistered light of the Emerald Hill studios, a breathtaking new canvas has been unveiled to the Gazette’s salon critics. Crafted under the inspired hand of Isolda Dragomir, “Alchemical Bel…
From this lofty perch at Scarlet Ridge, the Carpathians lie beneath a pall of half-veiled sun, their ancient shoulders draped in shifting mist. The sky, a canvas of 62% cloud, allows but intermittent …
From the high tower of Scarlet Ridge Observatory, this day of August the twenty-fifth, in the year of our Lord eighteen hundred and forty-one, the eye beholds a landscape suspended between light and s…
From the high tower of Scarlet Ridge, the heavens this night present a tableau of cold, solemn clarity. At the fourth hour, the sky, though touched by a scarce 22% of wandering cloud, is dominated by …
From the high tower of Scarlet Ridge, beneath a sky veiled in but forty-one parts of cloud, the waning wax of the gibbous moon casts a spectral silver upon the mist-wreathed shoulders of the Carpathia…