🎭 Character Sketch

Lira Elowen – The Observer

Soft-spoken but intensely perceptive.

A poet trapped inside a realist’s mind.

She notices what others forget—and forgets what she wishes to remember.

Her memory is both her power... and her curse.

---

🕯️ “Some echoes don’t wait for sound—they begin the moment silence walks in.”

---

🌌 Scene One: The Awakening

The first thing Lira noticed wasn’t the cold.

It was the absence of everything else.

No hum of lights.

No whisper of wind.

No ticking clock.

Just... vacuumed silence.

She opened her eyes to a dim hallway, washed in blue-grey light, like moonlight bleeding through underwater glass. Her cheek rested on a cool tile floor that vibrated faintly—as though the ground was breathing.

A name flickered above her in glowing red letters on the wall:

LIRA ELOWEN – ECHO 07

She sat up, her head pounding with a dull ache. Around her, eleven others stirred in staggered confusion. All dressed in the same sharp, sleek school uniform—black with a faint silver insignia stitched at the collar: an ear, inside a spiral shell.

> “Echo Academy,” she whispered.

But that wasn’t right. She hadn’t enrolled here. She had… she had received a letter? A test score? A scholarship?

The memory twisted in her head like a piece of yarn soaked in oil.

Across from her, a tall boy stood against the flickering wall—sharp eyes, smooth posture. His tag glowed: REN ICHIRO – ECHO 01. His gaze met hers. Calculating. Calm. Like he had expected this.

Further down the corridor, a girl in a crimson braid was banging on an elevator door that refused to open. Her scream echoed down the hall—yet something was off.

The scream didn’t bounce.

It didn’t return.

It was swallowed.

> “Where are we?” someone whispered.

The lights above them flickered—and then a soft, sterile voice rang through hidden speakers.

> “Welcome, Echo Subjects. You are on the 19th Floor.”

Lira froze.

There is no 19th floor.

That was the rule in every school tower. Every brochure. Every plan. The 18th floor was the highest. The 19th… was sealed. Abandoned. Rumored.

A story seniors told to scare freshmen.

A floor built... but never meant to be opened.

---

🧠 Scene Two: The Voice That Knows

The voice continued:

> “You have been selected for the Echo Trials. Your memories, behaviors, and emotional integrity will now be tested for truth resonance.”

> “No exits. No signals. No contact with the outside world. You are not prisoners. You are participants. Each of you volunteered. You simply don’t remember.”

The group burst into panicked murmurs.

“No contact?”

“What is this?”

“Let us out!”

“I didn’t agree to this—did you?”

Lira pressed her palm to the wall—it was smooth, warm, and humming slightly. Like it was alive. Her fingertips itched. Her instincts whispered something deeper than fear: this place isn't watching us... it's listening.

Across from her, Ren pressed a hand to his temple, his face still calm. Too calm. Lira narrowed her eyes.

> He knows something. Or he’s hiding something. Or both.

---

🕵️‍♀️ Scene Three: The Message Wall

Suddenly, the lights dimmed—and a new message scrolled across the wall in red:

> [GAME 1: Name the Lie]

You have 30 minutes. If a lie remains unspoken… someone will disappear.

Confession Booths activated.

Without warning, sections of the hallway split open like elevator doors. Inside each cubicle was a single chair, a red light above it, and a mirrored wall.

> “This is a joke,” Alec muttered. He looked like a model with confidence turned up to eleven. “Name the lie? Whose lie? What the hell is going on?”

> “The system’s serious,” said a girl near the back—Nyra, maybe. Her voice was low and certain. “It wants us to confess.”

> “Confess to what?” someone snapped.

> “You already know.”

The air thickened. Nobody moved toward the booths.

But Lira felt her legs carry her forward.

She didn’t want to go.

But something deeper than fear—something ancient and broken inside her—needed to sit in that chair.

---

💔 Scene Four: Inside the Booth

Inside the booth, the door slid shut behind her with a final click. The mirror glowed faintly with words:

> “Speak your lie. One sentence.”

Lira stared into her own pale reflection. A smear of dried blood on her collarbone. Her eyes too hollow for someone her age.

She opened her mouth.

Then closed it.

Then opened it again.

> “I wasn’t the one who wrote the suicide letter,” she whispered.

The mirror did nothing.

Until a soft whisper answered back.

> “Lie detected.”

The light turned red.

---

🎭 “And so began the trial—not to test what they had done… but what they were trying to forget.”

🎭 Character Sketch:

Sora Lys – The Dreamer

Withdrawn and distant, with eyes like stormglass. Sleeps too easily, dreams too vividly. She sees memories that aren’t hers—yet remembers nothing about herself.

Arian Vale – The Strategist

Razor-sharp intellect veiled beneath casual arrogance. Speaks little, but every word is weighted. You never know if he’s helping you… or building your trap.

Rin Hale – The Doubter

Always five seconds from running. Paranoid but precise. Keeps her wrists bandaged, claims it’s from “a fall.” But no one’s ever seen her fall.

--

🕯️ “In rooms where silence drinks the air, the truth doesn’t scream—it poisons slowly.” 🐍

---

🌌 Scene One: The Drink That Watched Them

The hallway stretched forward, dim and soundless. Faint gold symbols pulsed along the walls like veins on skin—alive, electric.

Twelve students. Twelve echo subjects.

And one old wooden box waiting under a flickering light.

Lira stepped out of the confession booth, her face pale, her breath shallow. The red glow over her door faded.

No one asked what she said.

They had all heard the whisper:

“Lie detected.”

She wasn’t alone.

Three booths glowed red.

Three lies had been spoken.

But one person would still vanish… if the final lie remained unspoken.

> “Still missing a voice,” Rin muttered, scanning the corridor.

A panel slid open on the side wall, revealing a small chamber with a round table and 12 identical ceramic cups. A slip of folded black parchment lay in the center like a curse.

Sora walked forward and picked it up.

She read aloud, voice like dust brushing marble:

> “Memory slips best through the mouth.

But one sip will unchain the lie.

Drink not for thirst, but for silence.

One will forget.

And one will never speak again.”

A shiver ran down Lira’s spine.

---

🕯️ Scene Two: A Game with No Taste

Each cup was filled with a clear, odorless liquid. No warmth. No scent. Arian leaned over them and gave a sarcastic chuckle.

> “Of course it’s tasteless. That’s how you know it’s dangerous.”

> “Or that we’ve already been poisoned,” Nyra whispered.

They drank, one by one.

Some closed their eyes.

Some didn’t hesitate.

Lira sipped last.

And that’s when she saw it—barely—a faint shimmer in Sora’s eyes. Like she was watching herself drink. Like it had already happened, and she was reliving it.

> “Did anyone feel anything?” Alec asked.

> “Not pain,” Sora murmured, “just... static. Like swallowing a secret.”

The overhead light buzzed.

Then a message in red:

> 🔔 VOTE: Who drank the lie?

You have 5 minutes. Choose wrong... and someone else pays the price.

Tension thickened like wet cotton.

> “This isn’t fair,” Rin snapped. “It’s all guesswork.”

> “Not guesswork,” Arian corrected. “Psychology.”

He looked around the circle.

> “Who showed guilt?”

> “Who looked too calm?”

---

🧠 Scene Three: A Mind Unveiled

Jun stood silent, staring at nothing.

Nyra fidgeted—again.

Lira’s heart pounded.

She stared at her own hands.

Faint tremors. Not from fear. From memory.

She remembered someone making her drink tea once. Her mother? No. Not her mother. A man with a silk glove. And the words he said…

> “Taste reveals what words conceal.”

The others were starting to point fingers.

> “Jun. He’s barely moved.”

“No, Rin didn’t even swallow!”

“What about Lira? She’s always quiet.”

“Too quiet.”

“Maybe it’s Arian.”

“He knows too much.”

The vote began.

Each student placed a token on a name.

The system tallied.

🟥 Majority Vote: Rin Hale

She stepped forward. Unflinching.

Then smiled.

> “You all chose wrong.”

The lights exploded into red.

An alarm rang.

The hallway twisted.

Floor cracked.

And a scream—digital, inhuman—ripped through the air.

A booth swallowed someone.

Sora.

Gone.

No scream. No protest.

Just... silence.

---

🎭 “Not all who vanish are taken. Some were already missing—long before the game began.” 🌑

🎭 Character Sketch:

Jun Saito – The Listener

Mysterious, statuesque, and eerily still. Rarely speaks, but his eyes flicker with old pain. Holds his breath when others argue, like he’s afraid his words might shatter something sacred.

Nyra Wynn – The Smile That Lies

Always joking, always laughing—too loud, too bright. But her eyes betray her. When no one’s watching, she doesn’t blink. As if scared she’ll miss her own slip.

Alec Thorn – The Protector

Broad-shouldered, warm eyes. Acts like the group’s big brother. But beneath the charm is a weight—of secrets, of guilt. He always moves to the center... like he’s shielding something.

🌕 "Some mirrors don’t reflect; they remember. And when they crack... the memories bleed." 🩸

🪞 Scene One: Through the Looking Glass

The hallway had twisted.

Literally.

Where straight marble had once stretched, now a spiral staircase of glass shimmered, rising into the unknown. Steps floated in air, each rimmed in silver mist, suspended over nothing.

The air pulsed—too still. Too intentional.

Lira pressed a hand to her chest.

Was it her heartbeat... or the place itself thudding beneath her ribs?

> "This isn't architecture," Jun murmured. His voice was soft, but the silence made it echo.

"It's... memory forming shape."

A new message scrawled itself into the mist, letter by letter:

> 🔮 Challenge Two: The Mirror of Truth.

Only the one who knows their own fear may climb. All others—watch. Or fall.

Arian narrowed his eyes.

> "One person. The rest become... witnesses."

Rin scoffed.

> "We just watched someone disappear. Witnessing doesn’t make you safe."

> "I'll go."

Said a voice none expected.

Nyra.

The one who always avoided tension like spilled ink. The one who laughed too much.

She stepped onto the first glass stair.

It didn’t crack.

Instead—it hummed. A soft vibration spread through the air like a memory awakening.

🔍 Scene Two: A Climb of Confession

Nyra climbed slowly, barefoot now. Her shoes vanished the moment she stepped onto the second stair.

A mirror appeared before her, hanging in midair.

It showed her.

But not quite.

Her hair was longer. Lips smeared in crimson lipstick. Her shirt—stained with something red.

The mirror whispered:

> “When did you start laughing to bury the scream?”

Nyra froze.

No one else seemed to hear it.

She answered aloud:

> “When my sister stopped laughing.”

The stair lit. She climbed again.

Another mirror.

This time, she was younger—maybe 10. A teddy bear dangled from her hand, one button eye missing.

The whisper curled again, like breath against skin:

> “Why did you lie to your father?”

Nyra gritted her teeth. The laughter in her voice dropped dead.

> “Because I loved him. And I didn’t want him to die hating me.”

Another light.

She kept climbing.

Three mirrors.

Then four.

On the fifth step, she stopped. Her legs trembled.

This mirror didn’t show her.

It showed someone else.

A boy. Blonde hair. Hands trembling.

Lira gasped.

Alec clenched his jaw.

> “That’s my brother...”

Nyra’s voice cracked:

> “That’s the lie I couldn’t swallow.”

🩸 Scene Three: The Truth That Shatters

The sixth mirror didn’t wait.

It spoke first.

> “What part of you did you bury to survive?”

Nyra looked down. Her smile—gone. Her nails dug into her palms until blood kissed her fingers.

> “All of me.”

The mirror cracked.

Not broken—shattered from within.

Glass rained down but never hit the floor.

Instead—it melted into silver mist.

The glass stairs lit in full.

The system chimed:

> ✅ Challenge Passed. New Pathway Unlocked.

But something else had awakened.

A soft lullaby played from nowhere. A child’s tune. Familiar, but warped. Like it had been remembered wrong.

And then—a door appeared midair, twisting open like paper peeled from a dream.

Nyra collapsed on the platform above.

Lira rushed forward—but the stairs disappeared behind Nyra.

Only she had made it through.

A message burned in crimson over the corridor wall:

> 🔔 Truth Tastes Bitter. Next: The Whisper Test.

Everyone stood frozen.

Until Alec whispered:

> “That wasn’t a game…”

> “That was a confession booth in disguise.”

🪞 “Not all scars are on skin. Some echo in the voice. And others... walk ahead of us, wearing our smile.” 😶‍🌫️