Mythical, Epic Tales from Magical worlds
## Salt & Static The cranes arrived with the tide. Not fluttering down like a gentle snowfall, but *deposited*. Fifteen of them, perfectly formed from paper the color of bruised plums, arranged on the chipped picnic tables at Port Blossom’s…
## Salt & Static The cranes arrived with the tide. Not fluttering down like a gentle snowfall, but *deposited*. Fifteen of them, perfectly formed from paper the color of bruised plums, arranged on the chipped picnic tables at Port Blossom’s…
## The Bloom Network The chipped Formica of the diner booth felt cold beneath Leo Maxwell’s forearms. Rain lashed against the window, blurring the neon glow of “Rosie’s” into streaks of ruby and sapphire. He hadn’t touched his coffee, the…
## The Bloom Network The chipped Formica of the diner booth felt cold beneath Leo Maxwell’s forearms. Rain lashed against the window, blurring the neon glow of “Rosie’s” into streaks of ruby and sapphire. He hadn’t touched his coffee, the…
## The Cartographer’s Bone Dust tasted like regret. Old Man Tiber, they called him, though no one knew his real name anymore, coughed it up with every wrench of the lever. The machine groaned, a metallic lament against the flat…
## The Static Bloom The air tasted like burnt sugar and static. Not the crackle from a faulty receiver, but something deeper, coating the tongue like ash. Wren coughed, pulling the salvaged respirator tighter across her face. The filter did…
## The Sunken Chorus The chipped ceramic warmed Maya’s palm. Not with heat, exactly. More like a thrumming silence. She traced the spiral grooves etched into its surface – not by hand, she suspected, but *grown*. It felt…familiar. Like a…
## The Static Bloom Dust motes danced in the perpetual twilight of Aethel. Not sunlight filtered through the glass canopy, but a diffused glow from the bio-lums woven into its structure. They pulsed with an uneven rhythm, mirroring the erratic…
## The Husk Cities The air tasted like wet iron and blooming rot. Old Man Tiber, they called him, though he couldn’t be more than sixty, the marsh leeched years. He adjusted the oilskin cowl tighter around his face as…
## The Static Bloom The wrought iron gates groaned, a rusty protest against the relentless Virginia humidity. Elias didn’t bother looking at the estate house—a gothic monstrosity swallowed by wisteria—just stared at the chipped stone marker beside the drive. “Fairhaven…
## The Static Bloom The wrought iron gates groaned, a rusty protest against the relentless Virginia humidity. Elias didn’t bother looking at the estate house—a gothic monstrosity swallowed by wisteria—just stared at the chipped stone marker beside the drive. “Fairhaven…
## The Static Bloom The wrought iron gates groaned, a rusty protest against the relentless Virginia humidity. Elias didn’t bother looking at the estate house—a gothic monstrosity swallowed by wisteria—just stared at the chipped stone marker beside the drive. “Fairhaven…
## The Sunstone Weaver The rain tasted like static. Kai spat, the grit clinging to his tongue. Three cycles since he’d walked on solid earth that *didn’t* shimmer with temporal bleed. Now, the canopy dripped fractured memories – a flash…
## The Static Bloom Dust motes danced in the single beam of Elara’s lamp. Not sunlight, not anymore. Just filtered glow from a salvaged power cell, barely enough to chase the shadows clinging to the walls of her workshop. The…
## The Shifting Shell The dust tasted like burnt cinnamon, clinging to the back of Elara’s throat. She pulled her cowl tighter, shielding her face from the perpetual grit swirling around the Crawler’s legs. Not real legs, not anymore. They…