The air in the underground facility hummed with a low, metallic whine, like a trapped insect struggling against glass. Dr. Elara Voss adjusted her gloves, her breath fogging the visor of her suit as she stepped into the chamber. The…
Dr. Elara Voss had always preferred the quiet hum of her lab to the cacophony of human interaction. Her days were a rhythm of data streams and synaptic mappings, the sterile air thick with the scent of antiseptic and ozone.…
Dr. Elara Voss had never trusted the quiet. It was in the hush between the hum of her lab’s cooling system, the way the fluorescent lights pulsed like a dying heartbeat, that she first noticed the gap. A flicker in…
## Static Bloom The chipped Formica countertop felt cold under Leo Maxwell’s forearms. Rain, not the usual Pacific drizzle, but a violet-streaked downpour, hammered against the diner’s window. It smelled like ozone and regret, a sharp tang that clung to…
## The Static Bloom Dust tasted like regret. Old metal, pulverized bone, the ghost of rain that hadn’t fallen in decades. Wren coughed, pulling her bandana tighter across her nose. The sun, a bruised plum low on the horizon, bled…
## 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…