Clara Voss stepped off the creaking bus, her boots crunching gravel as the autumn wind sliced through her coat. Blackwood, a town buried in the pine-draped hills of Oregon, had not changed in ten years—except for the digital signs flickering…
Maya traced the edges of the coffee mug, its handle chipped from years of use. The diner’s neon sign flickered above her, casting a pale glow over the cracked vinyl booths. She hadn’t set foot in Rivertown since the funeral,…
## The Algorithm’s Shadow Rain hammered against the corrugated iron roof of “Pixel Perfect Media,” a relentless percussion mirroring Elias’s growing panic. He scrubbed a hand through his already disheveled hair, the faint scent of burnt coffee clinging to it.…