## The Still Point Rain lashed against the corrugated iron roof of Elara’s workshop, a relentless drumming that would have rattled most people. She barely registered it. Her focus remained laser-locked on the shimmering web of green light pulsing within…
## Echo Bloom The rain tasted like wet slate. Not the clean, metallic tang of a storm brewing, but the aged mineral taste of something ancient, unearthed. Elara spat, pushing a strand of damp auburn hair from her face. The…
## The Scent Collector The chipped Formica countertop smelled of disinfectant and regret. Dr. Aris Thorne traced the rim of a lukewarm coffee cup, eyes fixed on the data scrolling across three monitors. Numbers bled into waveforms, chaotic yet meticulously…