The rain tasted like metal and salt, slick on Elisse’s skin. It hammered against the corrugated iron roofs of Ossa Bay’s marketplace, a rhythmic percussion that blended with the creak of wooden carts and the guttural calls of merchants hawking…
The chipped basalt warmed beneath Falon’s palm. It wasn’t the stone itself, though ancient and weighty, but the feel of *him* woven into it—Elio. Centuries of silence clung to the giant’s legacy, a vow stretched taut until someone saw…what, exactly?…
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…