The air in the sublevel lab reeked of ozone and burnt copper, a metallic tang that clung to the back of Lena’s throat. She adjusted her gloves, the synthetic material creaking as she leaned over the containment unit. Inside, the…
Dr. Elara Voss adjusted her gloves, the latex creaking as she pressed a finger to the glass. The room hummed with the low thrum of machinery, a sound that had become as familiar as her own breath. Outside the reinforced…
## The Echo Bloom The rain tasted like pennies on Leo’s tongue. He hunched deeper into the doorway of Mrs. Petrov’s antique shop, the neon sign buzzing a frantic lullaby above him. It was late October in Portland—that particular damp,…
## The Cartographer’s Cipher The rain smelled of ozone and damp asphalt, clinging to everything like a second skin. Elias traced the condensation on the window of The Correspondence House, watching cars blur past in streaks of red and white.…
Dust motes danced in the single shaft of light slicing the gloom of the archive. Old Man Tiber, hunched like a question mark over a brittle scroll, traced a finger across faded ink. The parchment felt like dried skin under…
Elka traced the brittle edge of the parchment. Dust motes danced in the single shaft of light slicing the gloom of the archive. Each fragment felt less like paper, more like sun-warmed bone. She wasn’t *searching* for anything specific, not…