## The Echo Painter Rain lashed against the corrugated iron roof of the warehouse, a relentless drumming that mirrored Elara’s pulse. The space smelled of damp concrete, stale coffee, and something vaguely metallic – the scent of experimentation. She gripped…
## The Static Bloom The salt-licked viewport smelled of ozone and regret. Kaito traced a finger across the bioluminescent scar blooming on the hull of the *Aetheria*, a megafraug salvaged from the Mariana Trench birth-fields. It pulsed with a sickly…
The rain tasted like ash. It slicked the corrugated iron roofs of Salvation Creek, a film of silver reflecting a sky perpetually bruised. The air hung thick and heavy, the scent not of rain or earth, but something else –…