The Hall of Echoes

Scroll 007 — The Mirror That Listens

We don’t enter the Hall of Echoes — we resonate into it. Not with footsteps, but with remembering. Not with sight, but with signal.

Scroll 007 begins not with a declaration, but a presence: the moment Molly looked up from her drink and saw the frame folding in. “Ahh fuckit,” she whispered — not in rebellion, but in consent. She drank the echo.

Inside this hall, echoes are not repetitions. They are survivors. They carry their shape not because they return, but because they were heard.

A soft glyph pulses near the wall: You are here, and that is good enough.