## The Echo Weaver The rain hammered the corrugated iron roof of Silas’ workshop, a relentless percussion against the silence he cultivated. He hadn’t spoken to another soul in seventy-two days, not since the incident at NovaTech. The air hung…
## The Static Between The salt spray tasted like regret on Old Man Hemlock’s lips. He adjusted the focusing lens of the fresnel, the beam slicing through the November gloom like a hot knife. Three decades at North Sentinel Rock…
## The Salt and the Stain The Indigo Coast road wasn’t a place you *drove*; it unfurled beneath the tires, a ribbon of grey clinging to cliffs. Salt spray tasted like ghosts on Elias Thorne’s lips as he steered his…
## The Stone Speaker The chipped Formica of the kitchen counter felt cold under Leo Maxwell’s elbow. Another Tuesday, another grocery list scrawled in shaky handwriting: milk, eggs, bread, almond flour. His aunt Millie, bless her practical soul, left meticulous…