The article was buried halfway down the third page of the newspaper, almost like it had been placed there on purpose — hidden in plain sight. “UFO-Like Depression Found in Remote Farmland – Locals Baffled” Zane Faulkner sipped his lukewarm tea as his eyes sharpened on the headline. “No scorch marks. No engine traces. Perfectly circular imprint in wheat fields outside Hillfield Ridge.” He folded the paper and looked across the room at Eli, who was trying to balance an orange on his head while lying upside down on the couch. “Put your gravity experiments on hold,” Zane said, rising. “We’re going to the countryside.” Eli groaned. “Please tell me there’s a five-star hotel involved.” Two Hours Later – Hillfield Ridge Grey mountains loomed in the distance under a cold blue sky. The wind carried the faint scent of damp earth and pine. A lone crow cawed as the black sedan pulled up beside a rusted farm gate. Zane stepped out first, long coat billowing slightly. Eli followed, ins...

   "THE MARK ON THE EARTH" The morning fog hadn’t lifted when Zane Faulkner folded the newspaper and set it down with a soft thump. He leaned back in his chair, one eyebrow slightly raised, a trace of amusement dancing on his lips. “U.F.O. sightings,” he murmured, tapping a finger against the article. “Right here. On our very own farmland.” Eli, halfway through a bite of burnt toast, froze mid-chew. “Please tell me you're joking.” Zane tossed the paper across the table. “Page six. Bottom-left. ‘Bright lights, strange sounds, scorched earth. Local farmers report unexplained phenomena.’ Sounds like either an alien party or a very confused fireworks salesman.” Eli grabbed the paper, scanning the paragraph quickly. “This is insane. Why would you care about a tabloid story?” Zane stood, pulling on his long black coat. “Because, Eli… the fog’s too thick this morning for normal nonsense. And sometimes, nonsense is just a code word for truth nobody understands yet.” Eli groaned. ...

  The sea was quiet that evening — unnaturally quiet. As if the waves themselves were holding their breath for what was to come. The RMS Elysian Pearl stood proud against the fading horizon — a marvel of modern architecture, wrapped in shimmering glass, chrome rails, and elegance. Dubbed “a floating royal city,” it was beginning its maiden voyage: a luxurious three-day cruise to the pristine island of Altamaré. Everything from marble-floored cafés to infinity pools, rooftop gardens to opulent theatres — The Pearl wasn’t just a ship. It was a statement. And on this statement, three passengers stepped aboard with differing hearts. Zane Faulkner — hands in the pockets of his long overcoat, a slight smile playing on his lips, eyes watching everything. Eli Ward — wide-eyed, snapping selfies, marveling at chandeliers, fish tanks, and waiters who looked like diplomats. And Lyra — composed, graceful, hiding behind a calm face but carrying something heavy in her eyes. The welcome ceremony w...

   "THE FALL" The sky was clear — too clear. A kind of calm that almost warned of a coming storm. Zane Faulkner sat in his window seat, dressed in a sleek black coat with his usual relaxed charm, one leg casually crossed over the other. His expression was light, a small amused smile dancing on his lips as he looked out at the clouds. “Are we seriously flying over nothing but trees for three hours straight?” Eli grumbled beside him, scrolling nervously through the in-flight magazine. “This place looks like it swallowed the satellite signal and forgot to spit it back.” Zane tilted his head slightly. “Some say the jungle is alive. Personally, I think it’s just shy.” Eli gave him a flat stare. “You’re having fun. I’m having a panic attack.” “Which balances the flight nicely,” Zane said cheerfully. “Besides, I told you — this is personal. Not a case.” Their destination was confidential — a remote location in South America where Zane had planned to meet someone from his past. Not a...