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March 27, 2025 AD
As the Campbell family prepares for the Artisan Food Festival, Daniel's quiet morning of recipe testing is interrupted by unsettling news from the greenhouse—one of the family's secret hybrid plants is blooming weeks ahead of schedule. With whispers of a past warning echoing through the generations, tensions rise beneath the surface of an otherwise ordinary day at the estate, hinting that something deeper is beginning to stir.
April 7, 2025 AD
The stone slab seals behind them. Above, their home burns. Below, Edinburgh's forgotten arteries stretch into darkness—Jacobite passages carved for escape two centuries before the Campbells ever needed them. Then the grinding sound returns. Someone else knows the entrance. Douglas Thomson steps from shadow with a Portal Key and claims alliance, but trust is currency they cannot afford to spend carelessly. The tunnels don't care who survives. They only remember who passes through.
March 27, 2025 AD
As Maeve follows her father into the depths of the Campbell greenhouse, what begins as a simple father-daughter moment becomes something more. When the plants start behaving out of season—and a quiet visitor disturbs their peace—long-held secrets begin to stir beneath the soil, signalling a shift that may be impossible to contain.
April 6, 2025 AD
Water drips in Mary King's Close, marking time in a place where centuries blur. Four figures gather around an oak table scarred by history—candlelight catching a platinum ring, a vintage brooch, ink-stained fingers, a pin worn inside a lapel rather than displayed. They speak of the Campbell greenhouse as though it belongs to them already. Plants. Artefacts. The Stewart legacy. Tomorrow night, they move. One of them is already calculating how to stop them from the inside.
April 10, 2025 AD
Dawn breaks over blackened fields. Daniel knew what to expect—he'd seen the reports, heard the descriptions, prepared himself for devastation. But knowing and seeing are different countries separated by an ocean of grief. The coffee plants his family cultivated for generations are charred husks. The house sags inward like something exhausted. And in the ash, half-buried, a scrap of scorched leather bearing initials he'd recognise anywhere. Some losses cut deeper than others. Some can never be recovered.
April 6, 2025 AD
The Campbells gather around their family table, celebrating their festival success with food, laughter, and the comfort of tradition. Yet beneath the warmth of clinking glasses and playful sibling banter, echoes of the day’s encounters stir unease. Old records, old stories, and a child’s careless words press against the edges of contentment, reminding them that even in moments of joy, legacy is never far from reach.
March 31, 2025 AD
Nathan knows how to watch without being watched. Eight months behind the espresso machine have taught him the Leaf & Bean's rhythms—who belongs, who lingers, who asks questions with too much precision. Today, two men enter separately but leave together. Their interest isn't in the coffee. It's in Daniel, in the sourcing, in secrets they shouldn't know exist. The café hums with morning routine. Beneath it, something is being measured.
April 4, 2025 AD
Bone china with a delicate blue rim—the cups Eloise insisted they use for final tastings. The testing room fills with steam and laughter as the Campbells perfect their festival menu. Maeve wants garnishes. Rowan wants chocolate beans. Isla wants margins. Daniel wants balance—in the drinks, in the secrets, in how much to reveal. The Portal Cappuccino shifts colours as you stir it. Some things are meant to be magical. Some questions are meant to go unanswered.
April 5, 2026 AD
A man is polishing an espresso cup in an empty café in Edinburgh. The cup's surface catches the pendant lights and warps his reflection into something older, something more haunted than the face he shows the world. He tilts it. Watches the light bend. Watches the shadows form where none should exist. He has been doing this for eight months. Showing up. Making coffee. Wiping surfaces. Being the last to leave. He is, by every visible measure, a dedicated barista with a talent for punctuality and an unusual willingness to stay late. He is also a Guardian of Clivilius. And the family that owns this café has no idea why he's really here. Tonight, alone in the storeroom after the owner has gone home, he finds a ventilation grate that's been moved. And everything changes.
April 6, 2025 AD
The Campbell dining room holds generations in its bones—wine rings on oak, a burn mark from a Christmas candle, portraits watching from frames. Tonight it holds celebration: festival triumph, sisterly banter, Rowan's askew flowers, chocolate tart passed for seconds. But joy doesn't fully settle. Alasdair mentions old records, the apothecary shop. Rowan boasts about telling customers the coffee was magical. Even in moments of warmth, legacy presses close. Some stories aren't ready for telling.
April 7, 2025 AD
Nathan shows the photograph expecting nothing. Kelly glances at the screen and says three words that shatter years of searching. The man Nathan has hunted across continents, through encrypted networks and dead-end trails, has been drinking flat whites at the Leaf & Bean every Thursday morning. Sitting at the window table. Meeting Kelly's brother. The universe has a particular cruelty—hiding answers in plain sight while you look everywhere else.
March 27, 2025 AD
The greenhouse is familiar ground, but today Daniel is talking more than usual. The plants shimmer with light that isn't there. The Skye variation blooms weeks ahead of schedule. Maeve sketches leaves that seem almost alive, asks questions her father half-answers, and wonders what else he's keeping tucked in worn notebooks and careful silences. Then footsteps crunch on gravel where no one should be.
March 31, 2025 AD
As the morning rush fades at the Leaf & Bean Café, Nathan’s quiet routine behind the espresso machine masks a growing tension beneath the surface. With mysterious strangers asking pointed questions and Daniel showing signs of strain, the café’s comforting rhythms are slowly giving way to deeper suspicions—and the shadows watching from just beyond the glass.
April 6, 2025 AD
Moira's face changes when Daniel says the name. Just for a moment—colour draining, hands stilling—before composure returns like a door closing. She knows something. Has always known something. The festival crowds flow past their booth, oblivious to the weight now pressing between three generations of Campbells. The warning carries decades of practice. Whatever she's protecting Daniel from, she's been protecting him his entire life.
April 6, 2025 AD
The Colombian woman doesn't ask questions like a customer. She asks like someone who already knows what answers should sound like. Seeds that won't grow until spoken to by name. Soil that remembers. Specimens she recognises from archives that no longer officially exist. She studies Daniel with the calm assessment of someone weighing whether to reveal herself—then chooses warmth over exposure. Then she's gone. But her words remain.
April 6, 2025 AD
The greenhouse holds its breath differently at night. Plants that seem ordinary by daylight reveal other qualities under moonlight—leaves that turn toward Daniel's touch, vibrations that feel almost like acknowledgment. He's tended them his whole life without fully understanding what they are. Tonight, Moira begins to tell him. Promises older than the café, older than modern borders. Gifts that came with obligations.
April 5, 2025 AD
Beneath Edinburgh Castle’s watchful gaze, the Campbells unveil their carefully prepared booth at the Artisan Food Festival. Amidst the aromas of fresh bread and coffee, the family balances presentation, secrecy, and opportunity. As crowds gather and competitors circle, Nathan’s instincts remind him that success draws attention—and not all of it is welcome.
April 6, 2025 AD
Twenty years of relationships built on shared craft—Sarah's chocolates, Douglas's stout, Mary's honey. Daniel walks among allies who understand that quality requires patience. But even here, surrounded by friends, the back of his neck prickles. The woman in grey takes three different routes past the same point. The man Nathan intercepts disappears too smoothly into the crowd. Some people came to the festival looking for more than artisan treasures. They came looking for the Campbells.
April 4, 2025 AD
Gran's fingers check soil moisture with the precision of someone reading text others can't see. Grandad's stories about the old apothecary carry weight that settles differently today. The van fills with festival preparations while warnings pass between generations in glances and half-sentences. Moira mentions Calum McKenzie's name and something tightens in Daniel's shoulders. The café has drawn attention before. The family has weathered scrutiny before. But this time, the balance feels different. The light is getting brighter.
Gathered in the Emporium, the Campbells, their allies, and unexpected figures face a revelation that could reshape everything they thought they knew. As grief over what’s been lost collides with the weight of ancient history, long-hidden artefacts are unveiled, linking the family’s present struggle to the founding of New Edinburgh. Choices emerge, heavy with consequence, as the sisters stand on the threshold of a legacy neither asked for nor easily refused. In the silence that follows, the future begins to take root.
LockedMarch 27, 2025 AD
Cardamom. Pandan. Vanilla. The festival menu is nearly perfect—Daniel can taste it. Maeve's sketches capture something he can't quite name, vines curling around coffee beans like they belong together. For one morning, the Campbell Estate hums with the quiet rhythm of legacy tended and passed down. Then Alasdair mentions the greenhouse, and Moira reaches for the journal, and the rhythm falters. The plants remember something the family would rather forget.
March 31, 2025 AD
The café settles into evening stillness. Daniel lingers at the corner table, tension visible in his shoulders, phone glowing against his face. Nathan polishes espresso cups and watches. They exchange few words, but something shifts—two men recognising that the other sees more than they're saying. Daniel leaves. Nathan stays. And in the quiet that follows, a displaced ventilation grate confirms what his instincts already knew: someone else has been inside.
April 7, 2025 AD
Kelly's flat. Cluttered shelves, dried herbs, the smell of old coffee. And Noah at the kitchen table, laptop open, looking up as the door swings wide to reveal his sister—and the stranger beside her whose stillness says more than introductions ever could. Nathan has spent years hunting for Luke Smith. Noah has spent months protecting him. The flat is too small for what's about to happen between them.
April 6, 2025 AD
He appears like something choreographed—impeccably dressed, cultured Edinburgh accent, eyes too sharp for casual interest. His questions probe at foundations Daniel didn't know could crack. Legacies. Weight. Families whose names carry meaning through centuries. Then he says it: Stewart. The word lands like a stone in still water. Daniel has never heard of any Stewarts connected to his family. But watching Nathan's careful stillness afterwards, he realises: someone has.
April 7, 2025 AD
Nathan steps from the portal onto Campbell ground with thirty minutes to change everything. The White Rose Society is coming. In the greenhouse, Daniel packs generations of secrets into crates. In the house, three sisters choose what pieces of their lives can fit in a backpack. Then the headlights appear at the gates. Then the flames. Then the explosions. By the time they find the hidden tunnel beneath the garden, home has become ash and memory.
April 7, 2025 AD
Led through the twisting Jacobite tunnels, Daniel and his daughters arrive at a hidden bookshop that proves to be far more than it seems. Among shelves of faded tomes and relics preserved in glass, the Campbells meet new allies who reveal fragments of history tied directly to their bloodline. As journals are opened and covenants recalled, the family realises that their role in this unfolding struggle stretches back centuries—whether they are ready to accept it or not.
April 7, 2025 AD
Two figures step into lantern light. Familiar faces from behind the café counter—but nothing about this night follows familiar rules. Nathan moves before anyone can speak, violence erupting from a man the Campbells thought they knew. A tattoo on skin. A symbol that carries weight in worlds Kelly Bales has never heard of. She came looking for her grandfather's secrets. She's about to discover they've been waiting for her.
April 7, 2025 AD
The monitors breathe with blue-white light. CliveMind doesn't search—it reveals, translating CLIVE's vast consciousness into fragments Nathan can interpret. The Stewart sisters appear as captured intentions, their voices preserved across centuries: "The soil must be protected... boundaries thinner than they know..." Then the present tears through the past. A timestamp pulses: 18:37. Coordinates he recognises. "Secure extraction target by 19:45." The Campbell Estate. Tonight. Nathan reaches for his Portal Key. Some truths don't wait to be found.
April 9, 2025 AD
Three days above the Emporium. Three days of sandwiches in paper bags, of rain against leaded glass, of documents that rewrite everything Daniel thought he knew. Three days while men in unmarked vehicles strip his estate piece by piece, searching for something he's only beginning to understand. Patience has its limits. Daniel's hands flatten against the table. "I'm going back." But he won't be going alone—and not everyone who wants to come will be allowed.
April 6, 2025 AD
The queue stretches further than yesterday. Word has spread. The Campbell booth has become a destination, and destinations attract more than customers. The woman with the phone isn't framing festival atmosphere—she's documenting storage areas, supply chains, the black bags with silver emblems. The academic's questions about Maeve's sketches carry edges beneath the curiosity. Yesterday felt like success. Today feels like exposure. The spotlight Daniel wanted is here. So is everything that hides in its glare.
April 6, 2025 AD
Edinburgh Castle has watched over gatherings for centuries—markets, processions, celebrations. It knows how to keep secrets. Below its walls, the Campbells prepare to reveal theirs, or at least the parts safe for public consumption. Maeve's decorations transform their booth into something almost otherworldly. Nathan positions himself where he can see everyone who lingers too long. The gates haven't opened yet, but already the air carries the particular tension of things about to become visible.
April 4, 2025 AD
Calum McKenzie fills the doorway like a man already certain of his welcome. One of Edinburgh's most respected roasters, he arrives with samples, proposals, and questions that linger a fraction too long on the wrong details. His Ethiopian roast is bright with blueberry and jasmine. The Campbell house blend has something he can't quite place—"unusual notes," he calls it. "Something botanical." Daniel's answer is careful. Nathan's attention sharpens. Some partnerships come with hidden costs.
April 7, 2025 AD
The heavy door groans open on hinges that haven't moved in decades. Beyond it, a chamber that shouldn't exist—vaulted ceilings, shelves laden with maps and relics, lanterns that flicker to life beneath Douglas's steady hand. This was a Jacobite command post. A Guardian sanctuary. Now it holds letters signed by Stewart sisters, tunnel routes marked in faded ink, and truths that rewrite everything Daniel thought he knew about soil, coffee, and a place called Clivilius.
LockedApril 10, 2025 AD
The estate is gone. The greenhouse, the storehouse, the hybrid plants—all of it reduced to ash. Daniel returns to Edinburgh carrying nothing but dust on his boots and questions without answers. In a bookshop that holds more than books, old alliances converge and ancient artefacts emerge from hiding. Five Portal Keys. Five legacies waiting to be claimed. The Campbell sisters stand at a threshold centuries in the making.
April 4, 2025 AD
Morning light pools across the Campbell kitchen like warm syrup. The family moves in familiar rhythms—Isla commanding logistics, Rowan arranging plants, Maeve perfecting labels, Daniel guiding it all with quiet hands. Festival preparations hum with shared purpose and unspoken grief. Kelly hums Arirang and carves her wooden magpie. Nathan measures beans and watches everything. Then Kelly reaches to adjust her hair, her sleeve slips, and Nathan sees what he was never meant to see.
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.
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.
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.
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.