Dr. Elara Voss found the first fragment beneath the lab’s flickering fluorescent lights, a jagged shard of memory that didn’t belong to her. It arrived as a whisper, not a thought—*a hand gripping hers, cold and trembling, the scent of…
The air inside the Arctic research facility was thin, sharp, and humming with the low-frequency buzz of unseen machinery. Dr. Elara Voss adjusted her gloves, her breath fogging the glass of her helmet as she stepped into the containment chamber.…
The first time the air tasted like static, Dr. Elara Voss knew something had shifted. The lab’s hum—once a low, familiar drone—now thrummed with a dissonance that made her teeth ache. She pressed a gloved hand to the observation window,…
The salt air tasted like memory when she first saw him. Maren stood at the edge of the dock, her boots sinking into the wet wood as the tide gnawed at the pilings. The lighthouse beam swept across the bay,…
The air in Blackthorn Research Facility crackled with static, a low hum vibrating through the steel walls. Dr. Elara Voss adjusted her gloves, the synthetic material clinging to her palms as she stared at the subject on the table. Kael.…
The salt air stank of diesel and decay when Maren stepped off the rusted ferry, her boots crunching over gravel as the tide gnawed at the dock’s splintered planks. The lighthouse loomed behind her, its white paint peeling like dead…
The air inside the habitat dome tasted metallic, like rusted iron and burnt ozone. Captain Mara Voss adjusted her visor, squinting at the data stream flickering across her wrist display. Outside, the twin suns of Kethra hung low on the…
The air in the sublevel lab smelled like metal and static, a sharp tang that clung to the back of her throat. Mara’s boots scuffed against the linoleum as she stepped into the chamber, her breath fogging the glass of…
## The Static Bloom The dust tasted like forgotten birthdays. Old metal, a sweetness clinging to the grit that coated Lena’s tongue. She hadn’t felt rain in seven cycles, not real rain anyway. Just condensation clinging to the geodesic domes…
## Bloom The humid air tasted of petrichor and something vaguely metallic, a constant background note within the Meridian. My boots sunk slightly into the manufactured loam as I walked, each step a dull thud against the biodome’s artificial quiet.…
## The Algorithmic Bloom The rain tasted like iron. Not a metallic tang, exactly, but a memory of it – the damp chill clinging to unearthed shovels in my grandfather’s garden. I licked my lips, ignoring the grimace that tightened…
## The Echo Chamber The rain tasted like ash. Elara swiped a hand across her cheek, the grit clinging to her skin. Fifteen. She’s fifteen and already a vessel, an oracle drowning in the future. The Assignment Ceremony felt like…
## The Glacial Echo The wind tasted like frozen needles, biting at Elara’s exposed cheeks as she wrestled the supply crate onto the snowmobile. Each grain of ice glittered, a thousand tiny mirrors reflecting the bruised twilight. Her balance swayed…
## The Echo Bloom The rain tasted like rust on Elara’s tongue. She stood beneath the awning of O’Malley’s Diner, watching droplets smear across the neon sign. Inside, the aroma of burnt coffee and frying bacon battled with a lingering…
## Echo Bloom The chipped Formica of the diner booth stuck to Leo Maxwell’s elbows. Rain smeared the neon glow of “Rosie’s” across the windshield. He hadn’t touched his coffee, just stirred it, watching the steam curl like a phantom…