Tag
July 29, 2018 AD
The lagoon gave her transcendence. The caravan gives her something harder to name. A roof that doesn't flap. Walls that hold. A door that clicks shut and stays shut. Karen didn't know how much she needed it until she stood inside, surrounded by salvaged magazines and crumpled laundry and the quiet miracle of permanence. In Clivilius, home isn't where you come from. It's what you build when you decide to stop running.
July 31, 2018 AD
Karen carries a jar of spiderlings toward the planning table where Grant and Sarah sit surrounded by blueprints and hope. She has ideas to pitch—trees, shade, life returning to this scorched world. But as she watches them sketch futures and speak of timelines, something twists in her chest. They're still dreaming of Earth. They're still talking about going back. And Karen isn't sure she can be the one to shatter that.
July 28, 2018 AD
As the camp reels from Glenda’s departure and the group fractures under the weight of absence, Karen navigates a fragile web of responsibilities, grief, and strained loyalties. With Kain wounded, Paul faltering, and Chris clashing over priorities, she must find a way to hold the centre—before the centre gives way.
July 26, 2018 AD
The bus always feels the same—even when everything else has started to shift under your feet. Karen and Jane find their seats, shoulder to shoulder, wrapped in wool and the particular exhaustion of winter evenings. They talk about beetles and bad management, about walks that shouldn't happen in the dark. Then Luke calls. The conversation is brief. Normal enough. But after he hangs up, neither of them can shake the question: What do you really want, Luke Smith?
July 27, 2018 AD
Karen and Chris arrive in Bixbus, only to find a dusty camp in place of the visionary utopia they were promised. But as old names gain new faces and uncertain strangers become uneasy allies, Karen begins to realise that perhaps the masterpiece starts not with perfection, but with presence—and a willingness to begin again.
July 29, 2018 AD
While seeking quiet on the riverbank, Karen uncovers a sanctuary plan unlike any she’s encountered—an extraordinary fusion of ecological science and hope for inter-world conservation. As she journeys through the vision’s layered ambition, something shifts within her: she’s no longer just reading a legacy—she’s preparing to help build it.
July 28, 2018 AD
As dusk deepens over the camp, Karen tends to fires and memories while the others circle new alliances and quiet suspicions. But when Chris returns from the lagoon with a strange bruise and fewer answers than usual, Karen begins to suspect the cracks in Clivilius are no longer just in the ground.
Conservationists Karen and Chris Owen, aged fifty-seven and forty-five, vanished from their remote Collinsvale cottage around 27 July 2018. A neighbour's 000 call three days later brought police to an open front door, daisies on the verandah, and a blood trail belonging to no one the investigation could identify. Their vehicle disappeared. Their geese fell silent. A witness described activity she was geographically incapable of observing. The case offered everything except an explanation.
July 30, 2018 AD
As Beatrix returns from the Portal with food—but not answers—tensions flicker beneath the surface. But in the fading light of a long, absurd day, a shared container of Rags chips and mysterious cheeseslaw becomes something more than sustenance. For Karen and Paul, it’s a fleeting, perfect moment of human connection in a world that rarely allows for them.
July 31, 2018 AD
It starts with bare soil where coriander used to grow. Hoof prints. A trail of destruction. Vincent has struck again, and Karen is the one left to drag him back into line. But the goat is only the beginning. By midday, Beatrix will confess something that makes livestock management look like a holiday. And Karen will find herself wondering—not for the first time—what exactly she signed up for when she agreed to build a life in the dust.
July 26, 2018 AD
The road home winds through winter dark, and something feels off. Luke's house sits empty—no porch light, no kitchen glow. Just silence where there shouldn't be. Then Karen's own house greets her the same way: cold, unlit, and holding its breath. The bush watches. The shadows thicken. And somewhere in the frost, a curse rises from the earth. Not everything that waits in the dark means harm—but how do you know until you find it?
July 27, 2018 AD
As Karen and Chris lose themselves in the simple rhythm of setting up a tent, a buried coriander seed sparks an impossible event. In the hushed vastness of Bixbus, what begins as routine labour quietly transforms into something wondrous—challenging what they know about the world they've entered, and what might still grow in it.
July 27, 2018 AD
Karen and Chris share a quietly intricate morning filled with eggs, teasing, and the kind of wordless rhythm only built through years of knowing. But beneath the warmth of breakfast and shared rituals, the unanswered question of Luke’s absence lingers—silent, but gathering weight.
July 27, 2018 AD
A routine meal around the fire takes a sharp turn when Paul pushes for new responsibilities and bigger ambitions—including a road through the dust. As tempers flare and alliances shift, Karen must navigate the delicate balance between realism, community, and the limits of how much she’s willing to give.
July 27, 2018 AD
The dust here is red. It clings to skin and settles between teeth, fine as ash and twice as stubborn. Karen watches it swirl in the sunlight and thinks of bushfire days, of particulate warnings, of a world that used to make sense. Now she's standing in a place that shouldn't exist, helping strangers pitch a tent while someone's son lies ill in the canvas shadows. There's no map for this. Only motion. Only hands that still remember how to be useful.
July 27, 2018 AD
Karen and Chris struggle to comprehend their impossible arrival in Clivilius—a place of dust, silence, and echoes of forgotten intentions. As a mysterious woman named Glenda emerges from the horizon, offering uneasy guidance, the couple must confront both the limits of what they believed and the fragile beginnings of a reality they never imagined.
July 28, 2018 AD
As the group reels from a night of horror, a cascade of revelations fractures the fragile calm—Glenda's sudden vision, Beatrix's defiant departure, and the chilling confirmation of Joel’s disappearance. Amid loss and mounting dread, Karen finds herself walking beside Kain into the unknown, determined that no one should face Clivilius’s darkness alone.
July 28, 2018 AD
As night falls on a firelit camp, Karen senses a growing fracture beneath the silence—a shift in the group’s centre of gravity. With absences deepening and glances hardening, the quiet around the flames speaks volumes, and Karen begins to wonder if what holds them together is already starting to burn away.
July 30, 2018 AD
The firewood came from Earth. Karen doesn't think about that until movement catches her eye — a flicker at the edge of vision, a shape too familiar to dismiss. What she finds hidden in the plastic wrapping isn't supposed to exist here. Neither is she. But something made it through the portal alongside the logs and the dust, and now Karen has a choice: let this world finish what the crossing started, or become the keeper of something impossibly fragile.
July 26, 2018 AD
As warmth slowly returns to a power-starved home, Karen and Jane share fig loaf, tea, and quiet company that softens the earlier tension. But beneath the surface of their laughter and crumbs, the flicker of something unspoken remains—briefly hidden in the glow of returning light.
July 27, 2018 AD
As the camp begins its quiet nightly routines, Karen reveals an unexpected secret buried in the soil—a defiant act of hope that could reshape everything. But with beauty comes complication, and as a fragile miracle emerges, she and Luke are forced to confront the dust that threatens to bury more than just dreams.
July 27, 2018 AD
As Karen and Chris finish rebuilding their garden wall, a vivid beetle and a lingering silence become quiet signposts of something askew. While the morning settles into its usual rhythms, Karen can’t shake the subtle unease sparked by Luke’s delay—and what might be waiting just beyond the edge of the ordinary.
July 30, 2018 AD
Beatrix brought a goat. And chickens. Of course she did. Now Karen's chasing hens across the Drop Zone like a woman possessed, dust in her teeth, dignity in tatters, while Paul grins and suggests they turn Glenda's BMW into a coop. It's absurd. It's exhausting. It's the most alive she's felt in days. And later, over stolen chips and something called cheeseslaw, she'll remember why small joys matter.
July 28, 2018 AD
As a wounded Jamie returns to camp with Duke in his arms and a mysterious warrior at his side, the group is thrust into chaos and grief. With danger looming and hope slipping, Karen, Chris, and Jamie embark on a desperate journey to the river—where the only thing harder than saving a life is letting one go.
July 30, 2018 AD
When Paul arrives with a goat and a clutch of hens, Karen is drawn into the most absurd task Clivilius has yet offered—converting Glenda’s luxury vehicle into a makeshift chicken coop. What follows is equal parts farce and revelation, as a day of laughter and improvisation offers a rare glimpse of life breaking through the dust.
July 29, 2018 AD
Karen and Kain share a quiet moment at the lagoon’s edge, where blood, banter, and bruises mingle with the morning’s light. As she takes on his burden—if only for a while—the weight of care, trust, and unspoken pain begins to surface, stitch by stitch, shirt by shirt.
July 31, 2018 AD
Karen walks until the camp is a memory behind her. The silence here is absolute—no birdsong, no insects, no breath of wind through leaves that don't exist. She carries her jar of spiderlings and a heart full of questions she can't answer. Then, cresting a low rise, she sees it: a basin cradling pools of silver water, hidden and waiting. Some places don't need to be built. They just need to be found.
July 27, 2018 AD
Twenty-four hours ago, Karen was on a bus. Now she's sitting on a rough-hewn log in a strange world, watching steam rise from a container of chicken tikka like it's the most sacred thing she's ever held. The food is warm. The company is complicated. And before the meal is over, someone will throw chicken across the fire, someone will propose building a road with one shovel and blind optimism, and Karen will have to decide which battles are worth fighting—and which ones she can simply eat her way through.
July 27, 2018 AD
As tensions rise between scientific discovery and the practical demands of survival, Karen finds herself caught between Chris’s deepening obsession with the soil and Glenda’s urgent need for help. With coriander shoots trembling in alien ground and the tent half-raised, Karen must choose between what might grow—and what still needs building.
July 27, 2018 AD
As the impossible growth of coriander plants stirs awe among the newcomers in Bixbus, Karen, Chris, and Glenda begin to unearth the fragile hope buried in the dust. But while the others celebrate a possible turning point, Karen remains unsettled—sensing that even in a world of miracles, balance demands a cost.
July 31, 2018 AD
Karen presents her spiderlings and pitches her vision. The planning session hums with momentum—soil assessments bypassed, timelines accelerated, the sanctuary taking shape in shared imagination. Then Grant mentions contacting someone on Earth, and the air shifts. Before Karen can process that impossible hope, Paul arrives with a different kind of proposition: a midnight raid on a supermarket. Suddenly, the conservationist is requesting terrariums from stolen goods. Survival bends every principle eventually.
July 27, 2018 AD
The tent peg won't go in. Karen pushes harder, and something gives—not the way dirt gives, but the way a secret does. Chris is already digging before she can stop him, fingers in the dust, eyes bright with that look she knows too well. The look that means he's found something. In a place where nothing grows, where silence sits heavier than heat, they're about to learn that Bixbus has been holding its breath. And now it's exhaling.
July 30, 2018 AD
Under Clivilius’s brutal sun, Karen stumbles upon an unexpected miracle: a nest of Earth-born spiderlings hidden in the firewood. What begins as a fleeting discovery turns into a full act of preservation, as she races to construct a makeshift refuge for the fragile lives smuggled across worlds—an effort as symbolic as it is vital.
July 26, 2018 AD
On a wintry evening bus ride through Hobart, Karen is comforted by the familiar presence of her friend Jane. But when a call from Luke disrupts the routine, a thread of unease begins to unravel—hinting that even the smallest moments might carry a deeper weight.
July 27, 2018 AD
A visit from Luke disrupts Karen’s otherwise steady morning with a strange object, a burst of impossible light, and a question no longer hypothetical: what happens when the fabric of reality shifts in your own living room? As Chris steps into the room, the ordinary world tears away—thrusting them all into something vast, unknown, and waiting.
July 28, 2018 AD
As the night stretches on, Karen takes up silent vigil beside a grief-stricken Jamie, the loss of Duke still raw between them. With Chris's quiet support and the darkness pressing close, the group begins to understand that survival in Clivilius isn’t just about facing what’s out there—but holding together what remains within.
July 29, 2018 AD
As a rare evening of warmth and community unfolds around the fire, Karen juggles comfort and quiet dread—sharing stew, memories, and laughter while guarding the brutal truth Grant and Sarah have yet to learn. But beneath the twilight glow and flickering tales, a fragile illusion begins to fray, and Karen must step carefully to protect it… for now.
July 28, 2018 AD
As Karen and Nial work to establish a protective ring of fire around camp, their quiet conversation spirals from practical necessity into the deeper uncertainties of Clivilius itself. With dwindling resources, shadowy threats, and a fraying sense of community, Karen finds rare clarity in the rhythm of flame, the wisdom of insects—and the strange human instincts that keep pushing them forward.
July 28, 2018 AD
With Shadow Panthers prowling the perimeter, Karen, Paul, and Nial build a fireline in a desperate act of defence. But as flames flicker across the desert dark, uneasy questions emerge about what their light repels—and what it might be inviting. In Clivilius, even survival comes at a cost that burns slow and bright.
July 31, 2018 AD
Under the blistering Clivilius sun, a disaster quietly brews—then erupts—when the camp’s prized coriander vanishes without a trace. What follows is a chaotic goat hunt, a ruined supply tent, and the slow, grudging realisation that in a world this strange, survival might depend less on order—and more on learning to live with creatures like Vincent.
July 31, 2018 AD
Amid the mounting absurdity of Clivilius, Karen juggles Vincent the goat, Beatrix’s missing python, and the comforting—if exasperated—presence of Chris. As tensions rise and responsibilities pile up, Karen finds herself caught between chaos and quiet admiration, realising that love, in this place, might just look like problem-solving in the dust.
July 31, 2018 AD
Karen prepares to pitch her vision for a greener, more liveable Clivilius—armed with a jar of spiderlings and a heart full of memory. But as she approaches Grant and Sarah, caught in the hopeful thrill of their plans, Karen hesitates—knowing the truth she carries could shatter the fragile dream they’re building.
July 27, 2018 AD
After a moment of rising panic, Karen finds Chris and follows him into a new—and unexpectedly fertile—patch of Bixbus. But as they trace a growing trail of life across the landscape, what begins as reassurance slowly becomes something more complex, as Karen reckons with intimacy, necessity, and the uneasy truth that survival doesn’t always wait for permission.
July 28, 2018 AD
Back at camp, Karen finds comfort in labour as she and Chris pour foundations for Clivilius’s new structures. But the arrival of a wounded Kain, a borrowed ute, and a stranger named Nial quickly shifts the mood—forcing Karen to confront how survival can quietly reshape principles, and what happens when compromise begins to feel like complicity.
July 28, 2018 AD
In the wake of a harrowing night, Karen, Chris, and Glenda race to carry an injured Kain to the mysterious lagoon rumoured to heal. As desperation clashes with scepticism and the water reveals its terrible power, Karen is forced to confront how far she’s willing to go—for survival, for belief, and for those still standing.
July 28, 2018 AD
Karen is jolted awake into a night where nothing feels safe. As panic ripples through the camp, a strange light in the desert sky signals something inexplicable—and when animals and people vanish into the dark, those left behind must decide whether to chase or brace for what’s coming.
July 31, 2018 AD
Wandering beyond the camp with only a jar of spiderlings and a heart full of intent, Karen stumbles upon a shimmering basin—a hidden cradle of life that feels older than memory. As the landscape reveals a vision too vivid to be coincidence, Karen finds clarity, conviction, and the place where her dream for Clivilius might finally take root.
July 31, 2018 AD
What starts as a routine effort to tether the camp’s unruly goat spirals into a surreal crisis when Beatrix reveals she’s lost her pet python, Maggie. As Karen scrambles to secure Vincent and her nerves, it becomes clear that in Clivilius, even the most absurd dangers have a habit of slithering straight into your blind spot.
July 28, 2018 AD
As the shock of Beatrix’s departure ripples through the dust, Karen finds Kain immobilised at the Portal, grief-bound and silently injured. With the camp drifting further behind and pain blooming beneath stubborn resolve, Karen must decide how far to push against another person’s stillness—before it becomes permanence.
July 26, 2018 AD
When Karen arrives home to find her house shrouded in silence and shadow, what begins as quiet concern escalates into something more unnerving. As Jane and Fern accompany her through the cold hush of a power-less home, the truth behind the eerie stillness turns out to be something far more mundane—and deeply familiar.
July 29, 2018 AD
A day that begins with dust, dreams, and folding laundry unfolds into something unexpected for Karen and Chris. As the river guides them home and a new possibility appears on the horizon—solid, wheeled, and sunlit—they find themselves caught between the weight of what’s been and the fragile promise of shelter, privacy, and something that almost feels like a future.
July 29, 2018 AD
They arrive smiling. They don't know they can't leave. Karen does. Paul hands her folders thick with plans—a wildlife sanctuary spanning two worlds, species reborn in alien soil, conservation without borders. She reads until the vision isn't theirs anymore. It's hers. But when she wakes from an unplanned sleep, the moment she'd meant to guide has already happened without her. Sometimes the best thing you can offer isn't direction. It's trust.
July 29, 2018 AD
In the quiet gold of morning, Karen tries to reclaim a sense of normality through the simple ritual of cooking and laundry. But as conversations deepen and old routines become quietly compromised, she realises that even the smallest acts—like folding a shirt or sharing a bite—can hold the fragile line between survival and surrender.
July 27, 2018 AD
As Karen and Chris begin to settle into the sparse settlement of Clivilius, a shared task offers a fragile sense of belonging. But with illness in the shadows and roles still uncertain, Karen starts to sense that survival here will depend not just on adaptation—but on purpose.
July 28, 2018 AD
Chris comes back from the lagoon with a bruise that doesn't bleed and an explanation that doesn't hold. Karen covers for him. She knows how to keep her mouth shut, how to read the space between words. But silence has a weight, and tonight it presses down on everyone. The fire burns. The empty seats stay empty. And Karen begins to wonder if what's fraying between them can even be stitched back together.
July 27, 2018 AD
As dusk settles over the camp, an unexpected voice rises from the shadows, shifting the evening’s rhythm into something transcendent. With music as catalyst, fragile bonds begin to strengthen—and hidden truths quietly reveal themselves in the spaces between song and silence.
July 29, 2018 AD
Karen wakes from an unintended doze to find that the conversation she’d hoped to lead has already begun without her. Wrestling with regret, she chooses quiet retreat over interruption—only to discover that sometimes, the strongest contributions are made not in words, but in knowing when to step back, and when to return.
July 29, 2018 AD
Alone at the lagoon, Karen begins a day of routine labour—but what starts as washing clothes becomes an intimate, almost sacred encounter with the strange forces that stir beneath Clivilius’s surface. As whirlpools shimmer into existence and the water begins to hum with impossible beauty, Karen crosses a line between observation and surrender—and finds herself changed.
July 28, 2018 AD
With Glenda gone and Kain wounded, Karen returns to tend his injury—only to find more than blood beneath the surface. As doubts grow about what’s healing, what’s failing, and who is choosing what, Karen begins to question not just Clivilius’s logic, but the intentions of those she once relied on most.
July 28, 2018 AD
Everyone has somewhere to be. Jamie is hunting the thing that took Joel. Glenda is chasing a dead father's ghost. Beatrix vanishes through the Portal, leaving Kain bleeding and stubborn in her wake. And Karen? Karen is the one with the bandages. The one who notices Glenda's stitches don't look right. The one who stays—mediating, tending, questioning—when everyone else has already gone. Staying, it turns out, has a weight all its own.
July 29, 2018 AD
The fire feels like Tasmania. The chilli tastes like comfort. For one fleeting evening, Karen lets herself believe in the warmth of it—the laughter, the stories, the fragile sense of something being built. Then Beatrix leans too close to the truth, and Karen steps in to catch the falling blade. She steers. She smiles. She says nothing. Some silences are kindness. Others are just cowardice wearing a gentle face.
July 27, 2018 AD
The meal is done. The fire is low. And Karen has something to show Luke—a secret she's been holding in the dust. But what begins as revelation becomes negotiation, and before long she's demanding fences, henhouses, and promises she has no right to ask for. He gives them anyway. Later, as the sun bleeds out behind the mountains, a voice rises from the circle—ragged and unexpected. No one interrupts. No one breathes. And for the first time, the camp feels less like survival and more like the beginning of something worth remembering.
July 28, 2018 AD
When Joel vanishes without a trace, Karen is pulled into a tense search that draws her back to the lagoon—now shifting, alive, and unsettlingly aware. As loyalties fray and strange patterns ripple across the water, Karen must weigh the urgency of action against the quiet warnings of a place that seems to be watching them all.
July 29, 2018 AD
She came to wash clothes. She left with something she can't explain. The lagoon called to her—not in words, but in light, in colour, in the slow spiral of water that shouldn't have moved the way it did. Karen answered. She stepped in. She let go. And for one transcendent, terrifying, beautiful moment, Clivilius didn't feel like exile. It felt like recognition.
July 26, 2018 AD
As Jane drives Karen home through the hushed countryside of Hobart, an unusual stillness at Luke’s house stirs unease. Their quiet journey, shadowed by fog and memory, reveals more than expected—about friendship, intuition, and the places stories might lead.
July 27, 2018 AD
A tense night by the fire reveals more than just buried artefacts as long-simmering tensions erupt between Karen, Chris, and Glenda. But in the solitude that follows, a deeper voice returns—guiding Karen toward an unsettling truth: the past isn’t just present here; it’s watching.
July 31, 2018 AD
As Karen navigates the heat-soaked tensions of Clivilius, a jar of spiderlings becomes a mirror to her shifting moral compass. Amid urgent plans for ecological restoration and whispers of returning to Earth, a proposed supermarket raid forces Karen to confront how far she's willing to bend the rules in the name of survival.
July 29, 2018 AD
When Paul returns with two unexpected guests—renowned conservationists Grant and Sarah Ironbach—Karen’s world tilts. As she’s tasked with helping them integrate into Bixbus, the true cost of their arrival settles in: they don’t yet know there’s no way back. And Karen may be the one forced to help them realise it.
July 27, 2018 AD
There are silences that swallow you whole—and others that ask if you're ready to listen. Karen lands in rust-coloured dust with her husband's hand in hers and a voice in her head telling her to calm herself. She doesn't panic. She doesn't scream for rescue. She says: This is our home now. Glenda arrives expecting confusion and finds something worse—a stranger who asks about capitals and breeding facilities, concepts that don't exist in the tiny settlement Glenda knows. How does this woman know more about Clivilius than the people already living here?
July 27, 2018 AD
Chris has vanished. One moment he was crouched by the river, hands in the dirt—and now there's just dust and silence where he should be. Karen calls his name and hears nothing back. The panic is sharper than she expected. When he finally reappears, the relief doesn't quite settle. Something has shifted between them—something the soil seems to know before she does. They plant a trail. They mark a path. But not everything that grows here is green.
July 29, 2018 AD
As Karen and Chris settle into their new caravan home, the weight of transition reveals itself in objects, habits, and memories resurrected from Earth. But when Paul arrives bearing a generator—and the weight of leadership—an offer of help sparks something deeper: a quiet affirmation that even in Clivilius, a sense of home can still be assembled, piece by piece.
July 27, 2018 AD
In the flickering firelight, Karen grapples with the strangeness of her new world and the aching pull of the one she left behind. But when Luke offers a container of chicken tikka, something unexpectedly human flickers to life—comfort, connection, and the fragile beginnings of community in a place that doesn’t yet feel like home.
She learned to read the world on her knees in Tasmanian undergrowth, cataloguing beetle husks with a father who taught her that small things hold everything together. Decades later, Karen Owen had built a life from that patience—a career, a marriage, a cottage at the edge of the wild where theory became practice. Then a man walked into her kitchen and tore reality apart. Now she tends soil that shouldn't exist, in a world that swallowed her whole. The woman who knelt in the undergrowth is still in there somewhere. She thinks.
July 29, 2018 AD
Dawn demands normality — breakfast cooked over coals, the camp's accumulated stink finally addressed, dirty clothes gathered for washing. But when Karen conscripts Kain for laundry duty and announces their destination, his stomach drops. The lagoon. The place where everything went wrong. She sees practicality: rocks for drying, water for rinsing. He sees the scene of a crime he can never confess.
July 28, 2018 AD
As the survivors return to camp haunted and frayed, Karen keeps quiet vigil over a grief-stricken Jamie, unable to cross the silent distance between them. In the wake of loss, as exhaustion closes in, Clivilius offers no comfort—only the cold truth that rest and ruin now walk hand in hand.
July 28, 2018 AD
The walk back from the lagoon should be simple. Instead, it carries the weight of everything the night left behind — a scratch that tells a story Glenda hasn't heard, a silence in camp that speaks louder than words, and the growing certainty that the losses aren't finished counting themselves.
July 28, 2018 AD
With tensions mounting and strange silences deepening, Karen begins to suspect that the waters meant to heal might be harbouring something darker—and that loss may not be finished with them yet.
July 28, 2018 AD
The night tears itself open. No moon. No stars. Just voices screaming into a void so complete it swallows everything—dogs, people, reason. Karen wants to run. Every instinct demands it. But Chris won't let her go, and she knows he's right, and she hates that he's right.
July 27, 2018 AD
In the hush of Clivilius’s riverbanks, Karen and Chris continue their delicate experiments in miracle soil. As seeds sprout and silences deepen, Karen finds herself navigating more than ecological mystery—she’s also unearthing long-buried questions about closeness, change, and what it truly means to grow together.
July 29, 2018 AD
After a transcendent encounter with the lagoon, Karen is jolted back to Earth by Chris’s gentle arrival. As embarrassment softens into shared intimacy, they fall into quiet rhythm—washing, folding, and witnessing the rare calm that Clivilius offers. In silence and sunlight, they rediscover the bond that steadies them amid all that is shifting.
End of list
Gladys Cramer wasn’t looking for trouble—just a quiet glass of red and maybe a cat that actually came when called. But when a Portal opens, a body turns up, and a man with too many secrets begs her trust, Gladys is pulled into something vast, strange, and far too dangerous. She doesn’t know the rules. She doesn’t want the job. Dryly funny, quietly furious, and not at all qualified—Gladys is about to learn that staying out of it doesn’t mean staying safe.
Luke Smith's world transforms with the discovery of a cryptic device, thrusting him into the guardianship of destiny itself. His charismatic charm and unpredictable decisions now carry weight beyond imagination, balancing on the razor's edge between salvation and destruction. Embracing his role as a Guardian, Luke faces the paradox of power: the very force that defends also threatens to annihilate. As shadows gather and the fabric of reality strains, Luke must navigate the consequences of his actions, unaware that a looming challenge will test the very core of his resolve.
Thrown into an unfamiliar world with nothing but her medical kit and a backlog of questions, Dr. Glenda De Bruyn never asked to lead. But when strangers start arriving—wounded, lost, and dangerous—triage becomes survival. Each decision risks more than a life; it tests what remains of her logic, loyalty, and control. As the lines blur between science and myth, Glenda must confront not only the fractures in her patients—but the ones inside herself. In Clivilius, everyone bleeds. Not everyone gets patched up.
Joel Gibbons had never been anywhere. Hadn't finished school. Hadn't met his father. Hadn't done much except show up for his mum and hope that counted for something. A passport application changed everything—a name on a birth certificate, a coincidence that put him in the wrong place, and a death he didn't see coming. Joel should have stayed dead. Instead, he woke in glowing water—claimed before he even drew breath—gasping back to life with three words branded somewhere deeper than skin. You are mine.
Men are vanishing across Tasmania, and Detective Senior Constable Karl Jenkins is running out of time, patience, and sanity. Every lead points to Luke Smith—but proving it means crossing lines Karl can't uncross. He breaks into houses without warrants. He sees faces in windows that shouldn't be there. He chases the wine-soaked Gladys Cramer through high-speed pursuits only for her to slip away. His partner becomes collateral damage. His sergeant's warnings go ignored. Karl knows something monstrous is happening on this island, and he'll tear through every boundary to expose it. Even if it destroys him.
Jamie Greyson was shoved through a Portal into a dimension that shouldn't exist, by a partner he no longer trusts. In the dust and desperation of Clivilius, the son he'd only just begun to know arrives with a slit throat and no heartbeat. The lagoon brings Joel back. But when Jamie begs for a second miracle, Clivilius answers with silence. Some debts, it seems, are only paid once.
When a series of disappearances grips Tasmania’s remote edges, Detective Sarah Lahey is drawn into a case that threatens to unravel her—professionally and personally. As tensions flare with fellow detective Karl Jenkins, trust becomes a gamble neither can afford. In the search for truth, they’ll find the shadows run deeper than they imagined. Into the Dark is a haunting thriller about loyalty, obsession, and the cost of stepping beyond the light.
