The Echo Bloom
## The Echo Bloom The rain tasted like rust. Elias wiped his face, the droplets clinging to stubble he hadn’t bothered shaving in days. The lab smelled of ozone and stale coffee, a familiar cocktail that usually soothed him. Tonight,…
collective memory
Read MoreThe Echo Bloom
The Weaver’s Bloom
## The Weaver’s Bloom The rain tasted of iron and damp earth. It beaded on Elara’s cheek, tracing a path toward her chin as she navigated the elevated walkway. Crimson canopies arched above, thick and pulsing with geothermal light –…
The Static Bloom
## The Static Bloom Dust motes danced in the single beam slicing through the viewport. Old Man Tiber, they called him, though barely sixty cycles ticked on his bones. He didn’t correct anyone. Names here were fluid, less about identity…
The Echo Architect
## The Echo Architect Rain beaded on the grimy window of Unit 47, blurring the neon-slicked streets outside. Alva traced a pattern on the condensation with a nicotine-stained finger, barely registering the droplets as they slid down to pool at…
Ghost Bloom
## Ghost Bloom The rain smelled like something forgotten, dredged from deep inside. Not the clean, metallic tang of a storm, but old paper and damp earth, layered with something sweeter, almost floral. Elara wrinkled her nose, pulling the worn…
The Cartographers of Echo
## The Cartographers of Echo The rain tasted like rust. Elara wiped her cheek, the metallic tang clinging to her tongue. The corrugated iron roof of the makeshift clinic vibrated with each gust, a relentless percussion against her skull. Inside,…
The Bloom Weaver
## The Bloom Weaver The chipped porcelain of the mug warmed Elias’s hands, but didn’t touch the chill clinging to his bones. Rain lashed against the window of the Archive, mimicking the rhythmic throb behind his eyes. He hadn’t slept…
The Scent Collector
## The Scent Collector The salt spray tasted like regret. Elias Thorne, botanist and reluctant ghost-hunter of forgotten smells, gripped the rail of the *Althea*, his knuckles bone-white. The Aegean churned grey beneath a bruised sky, mirroring the static in…
Lost Memories and Electromagnetic Echoes
The rain tasted like salt and regret. I watched it sheet down the corrugated iron roof of the Fisherman’s Rest, a pub clinging to the edge of Valoria, a village that seemed determined to dissolve back into the bruised grey…
Lost Memories and Electromagnetic Echoes
The rain tasted like salt and regret. I watched it sheet down the corrugated iron roof of the Fisherman’s Rest, a pub clinging to the edge of Valoria, a village that seemed determined to dissolve back into the bruised grey…