## Alternansight The dust tasted of rust and forgotten things. Marcus coughed, the sound a dry rattle in the cavernous hall. He ran a calloused thumb across the fresco depicting the Battle of Cannae, the terracotta clay rough beneath his…
## Echo Bloom The bus rumbled, a mechanical beast chewing gravel as it clawed its way up the Icelandic highlands. Elara traced circles on the fogged window, rain blurring the landscape into an indistinct wash of grey. Iceland. She’d booked…
## The Static Bloom The dust motes danced in the single shaft of sunlight slicing through the greenhouse glass. Old Man Tiber, they called him, though nobody’d seen him truly *old*, just…worn. He adjusted the humidity gauge, his knuckles bone-white…
The salt spray tasted like regret on Alure’s lips. Years adrift hadn’t strengthened bone, only honed edges. They traced the glyphs carved into the driftwood, fingers thin as spider silk. The wood warmed under their touch, not from sun, but…
The wind tasted of grit and regret. Lysara cursed, picking bits of shale from her braid. Below, the valley sprawled, stitched with silver rivers. Not the view she’d anticipated. Not at all. She’d pictured a graceful landing, a triumphant return.…