## Bloom Rain hammered the glass of Elias’s control room, a relentless percussion against the quiet hum of the vertical farm. Outside, Seattle sprawled—a gray canvas punctuated by the skeletal reach of skyscrapers. Inside, a vibrant green explosion thrived. Rows…
## The Static Bloom The salt-sting tasted like regret on Elias’s tongue. He hadn’t expected the air to *feel* this thick, not after weeks cycling through sterilization protocols. The retrieval ship’s bay doors hissed open, revealing a bruised violet sky…
## Hollow Bloom The dust tasted like static. Old metal, older regret. Jessa ran a gloved hand along the hull of the *Artemis*, the chipped paint flaking off like dead skin. The ship wasn’t derelict, not exactly. More… asleep. Decades…