The air inside the station tasted metallic, like rusted pipes and static. Kael Vorn adjusted his gloves, fingers brushing against the reinforced polymer of his suit as he stepped into the dimly lit corridor. The hum of machinery pulsed through…
## The Static Bloom The chipped Formica countertop felt cold under Aris Thorne’s elbows. He hadn’t slept properly in seventy-two hours, not since the first tremor hit the data stream. Not since the birds started *singing* in code. He squinted…
## The Static Bloom The salt spray tasted like iron, clung to Maya’s eyelashes. Three sunrises bled into one another on the horizon – a bruised violet, an angry ochre, and the dull ruby of K’tharr. She hadn’t slept properly…