The Luminous Enigma
Dr. Elara Voss adjusted the collar of her lab coat, the fabric stiff with static as she stepped into the dimly lit corridor of Project Orpheus. The air here smelled of ozone and rust, a metallic tang that clung to…
Hidden Truths
Read MoreThe Luminous Enigma
The Ember of Forgotten Skies
The air in Veyra’s Hollow smelled of damp stone and old iron, a scent that clung to the skin like a second layer. Kaela tightened her grip on the rusted lantern, its flickering light casting jagged shadows across the moss-covered…
The Hollow Veil
The air tasted like iron as Mara stepped off the bus, her boots crunching gravel underfoot. The town of Blackmoor clung to the hillside like a wound, its crooked buildings leaning toward each other as if sharing secrets. She hadn’t…
The Luminous Core
The air in the underground facility tasted like iron and static, a metallic tang that clung to the back of Dr. Elara Voss’s throat. She adjusted her gloves, the synthetic material creaking as she stepped over a tangle of exposed…
The Hollowing
The first time Jessa found the key, it was buried in the dirt behind the old mill, rusted and cold to the touch. She dug it out with her fingers, nails breaking under the weight of the soil, and held…
The Hollow Veil
The air smelled of rust and static when Dr. Elara Voss stepped into the sublevel bunker. Her boots echoed against the steel floor, a sound that felt too loud for the silence surrounding her. The door sealed behind her with…
The Cartographer’s Shadow
## The Cartographer’s Shadow The rain smelled of exhaust and something vaguely floral, a weird combination clinging to the cracked pavement outside Elias’s office. Neon signs bled their colors onto wet asphalt, painting a smear of pink and green across…
Whisperwind Grove
The grit of the Dustlands tasted like regret. Elara spat, the particles clinging to her tongue. Thirteen summers she’d spent inhaling it, watching the sun bleach the color from everything. Even hope felt faded. She traced the chipped ceramic of…
The Exceptions
The rusted gate groaned open, spitting flakes of silver paint. Six of us. Six mistakes Silverthorn Prep hadn’t bothered filtering out. Rain slicked the manicured lawns, reflecting the gothic spires like broken glass. We weren’t supposed to *be* here. Not…