The Husk Cities
## The Husk Cities The air tasted like wet iron and blooming rot. Old Man Tiber, they called him, though he couldn’t be more than sixty, the marsh leeched years. He adjusted the oilskin cowl tighter around his face as…
Leviathan
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The Static Bloom
## The Static Bloom The salt spray tasted like iron, clung to Maya’s eyelashes. Three sunrises bled into one another on the horizon – a bruised violet, an angry ochre, and the dull ruby of K’tharr. She hadn’t slept properly…