
Ghost Echo
## Ghost Echo The rain tasted like rust. Finn wiped a smear of it from his cheek, the neon glare of the Neon Drift market blurring through the downpour. He tugged the hood of his worn jacket tighter, ignoring the…
## Ghost Echo The rain tasted like rust. Finn wiped a smear of it from his cheek, the neon glare of the Neon Drift market blurring through the downpour. He tugged the hood of his worn jacket tighter, ignoring the…
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…