The Last Light of Duskmere
The sky over Elmsworth burned with the last gasp of day, a bruise of indigo bleeding into the horizon. Lira knelt in the dim glow of her loom, fingers stained with ochre and ash, weaving patterns that had not been…
lost world
Read MoreThe Last Light of Duskmere
The Static Bloom
## 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…
Silas
## Whispers of Stone Dust devils danced across the cracked earth, mocking Elias’s efforts to coax a single stalk of corn from the parched soil. The Nebraska sun beat down, relentless, turning the air thick and heavy as a wool…
Botanical Mystery
The rain tasted like rust. It hammered against the corrugated iron roof of G Catedral da Lua Negra, a constant, insistent rhythm that mirrored the frantic beat of my pulse. Lisbon clung to me, slick and fragrant with wet stone…
The Weaver’s Lament
The rain hammered against the corrugated iron roof of Ephemeral Echo, a sound like a thousand frantic fingers drumming. Steam fogged the single window, blurring the neon glow of the city outside into a hazy wash of bruised purple and…