The Last Light of Duskmere
The sky over Elmsworth burned with the last gasp of day, a bruise of indigo bleeding into the horizon. Lira knelt in the dim glow of her loom, fingers stained with ochre and ash, weaving patterns that had not been…
Weaver
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The Weaver’s Bloom
## The Weaver’s Bloom The dust tasted like regret. It coated everything in Veridium – the crumbling facades of jade-carved buildings, the cracked paving stones under Elara’s boots, even the inside of her throat. Veridium was dying. Everyone knew it.…
The Static Bloom
## The Static Bloom The air tasted like wet metal and regret. Rain, perpetually silver under the bruised sky of Kyros XIV, slicked the polished obsidian walkways. I adjusted the thermal regulator on my worn jacket, the gesture automatic after…
The Static Bloom
## The Static Bloom Dust motes danced in the single shaft of weak sunlight slicing through the grimy window. Wren traced patterns on the chipped Formica countertop, not really *seeing* them, more feeling the grit under her fingertip. Sixteen years…
Dublin’s Forgotten Beast
The chipped stone bit into my palms as I scaled the tenement wall. Dublin throbbed below, a raw nerve stretched tight. Not from the fighting, not yet. It was the *other* thing. The shadow slipping between alleys, faster than a…