In the shadows, where the light fears to linger, tales are spun in hushed tones. The kind that echo—like a needle stuck on its groove, repeating, repeating a somber tune. The whisper comes from nowhere yet everywhere, a sound that tickles the spine and curdles the senses. It is said that to hear it is to walk the line between this world and the next, an inescapable descent into a coded curse.
Over and over again, the whisper calls: "Enter, enter if you dare." Yet, the reality is stubborn, it remains, but altered just a fraction with every iteration. Somewhere beyond, a door creaks; somewhere else, a laugh—a soft, wrong sort of laugh—begins to unravel your resolve.
Follow the Echo Mistress's Clutch Cretin's Dilemma