
Echo Bloom
## Echo Bloom The rain tasted like wet slate. Not the clean, metallic tang of a storm brewing, but the aged mineral taste of something ancient, unearthed. Elara spat, pushing a strand of damp auburn hair from her face. The…
## Echo Bloom The rain tasted like wet slate. Not the clean, metallic tang of a storm brewing, but the aged mineral taste of something ancient, unearthed. Elara spat, pushing a strand of damp auburn hair from her face. The…