Dr. Elara Voss adjusted her visor, the thin layer of frost already clinging to the lens as she stepped onto the crimson dunes of Eos-9. The air here tasted metallic, like rusted iron and burnt ozone, a constant reminder of…
## Skyborn The wind tasted like rain and rust, a familiar tang that settled on Elara’s tongue. She tightened the leather straps of her harness, watching the kumo vines writhe beneath her boots. These weren’t just plants; they were the…
The dust tasted like regret. Fine, ochre powder clung to my tongue, coating the back of my throat with a grit that mirrored the weight in my chest. I watched Veridia shrink beneath the grey, and it wasn’t a romantic…