## The Gilded Fracture The rain hammered Bruges, a relentless drumbeat against the cobblestones. Elias traced a finger across the cool glass of Saint Salvator’s cathedral, the seventeenth-century stained glass shimmering under the failing light. The scent of wet stone…
## The Echo Weaver The rain tasted like static. Maya swallowed, the metallic tang clinging to her tongue even as she wiped a greasy hand across her forehead. The corrugated iron of the observation post groaned under the relentless downpour,…
## Dustfall The wind tasted of iron and something else—something old, like dried leaves pressed between the pages of a forgotten book. Elias ran a gloved hand over the corrugated metal wall, feeling the faint tremor beneath his palm. Project…
## The Salt and the Stain The Indigo Coast road wasn’t a place you *drove*; it unfurled beneath the tires, a ribbon of grey clinging to cliffs. Salt spray tasted like ghosts on Elias Thorne’s lips as he steered his…
The rain hammered against the windows of Silas’s antique shop, a steady, insistent drumming. Silas, a man who smelled of beeswax and old paper, dusted a particularly ornate mirror when he noticed it. The reflection wasn’t quite right. Behind the…