## The Echo Weaver The rain smelled of asphalt and regret, clinging to the neon glow reflecting off Scully’s worn leather jacket. He watched a young woman fumble with her umbrella outside The Crimson Note, her face pinched with frustration…
## The Tide-Bound The salt stung Elara’s lips as she hauled another net, her muscles burning with a familiar ache. Turquoise waves slapped against the hull of *The Wanderer*, their rhythm steady, constant – a deceptive calm. She squinted at…
## The Static Bloom The air tasted like wet metal and regret. Rain, perpetually silver under the bruised sky of Kyros XIV, slicked the polished obsidian walkways. I adjusted the thermal regulator on my worn jacket, the gesture automatic after…
## The Static Bloom The chipped Formica of the diner booth felt cold under Leo Maxwell’s elbows. Rain lashed against the window, blurring the neon glow of “Rosie’s” into smeared pink and blue. He hadn’t touched his coffee, the steam…
## The Static Between Rain lashed against the corrugated metal awning of Leo Maxwell’s office. Not a downpour, but a persistent, oily drizzle that smelled like exhaust and regret. He stared at the chipped Formica of his desk, a half-empty…
The rain tasted like ash. It slicked the corrugated iron roofs of Salvation Creek, a film of silver reflecting a sky perpetually bruised. The air hung thick and heavy, the scent not of rain or earth, but something else –…
The scent of cut grass and diesel hung thick in the late afternoon air. Astralen guided the mower along the edge of Lord Elmsworth’s prize-winning clover, the engine a steady drone against the rising wind. Not exactly the life he…