## The Echo Weaver Rain hammered the corrugated metal roof of Elias Thorne’s workshop, a relentless percussion against the silence that usually reigned. The scent of dust, aged paper, and ozone clung to everything – a familiar comfort. He squinted…
## The Cartographer’s Echo The scent of scorched paper clung to Ellyn’s nostrils, a phantom limb of the fire that consumed Dorian Voss’s study just weeks ago. Officially, it was an electrical fault, a tragic accident. But Ellyn hadn’t believed…
## Ghost Echo The rain tasted like rust. Finn wiped a smear of it from his cheek, the neon glare of the Neon Drift market blurring through the downpour. He tugged the hood of his worn jacket tighter, ignoring the…
## 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…