## The Bloom & the Gear The rain smelled of wet earth and something else—something sharp, metallic. Elara clutched her threadbare shawl tighter as she hurried down Willow Creek’s main street, the damp clinging to her like a second skin.…
## The Bloom Echo The chipped ceramic mug warmed Leo’s hands, the synth-coffee doing little for the chill that clung to him. Outside the observation dome, the *Artemis VI* shuddered. Not violently, but a low thrum that vibrated through bone.…
## The Static Bloom The chipped Formica of the diner booth felt cold under Leo Maxwell’s elbows. Rain lashed against the window, blurring the neon glow of “Rosie’s” into smeared streaks. He hadn’t touched his coffee, the steam long dissipated.…