The rain hadn’t stopped for three weeks. Not a proper storm, just that thin, persistent gray drizzle that seeped into everything—coats, spirits, the very marrow of the world. Elias Thorne didn’t notice it anymore. He sat in the dark of his study, the only light a sickly green glow from a vintage oscilloscope he’d restored for no reason other than it reminded him of a time when things made sense.