## The Resonance Bloom The rain tasted of iron. Elara wiped her face, the droplets tracing paths through the dust clinging to her skin. The sky bled grey above Oakhaven, a relentless drizzle mirroring the damp chill that settled deep…
## The Bloom Echo The chipped Formica of the diner booth felt cold under Leo Maxwell’s elbows. Rain lashed against the plate glass window, blurring the neon sign of ‘Rosie’s’ into a smeared crimson halo. Ten years. A decade spent…
The salt spray tasted of regret. Old Man Tiber, they called the lighthouse, though no one remembered a man ever tending it. Just the mechanism, grinding gears and a lens the size of a carriage wheel. It sat on Widow’s…