Everecho

A strange puppet carved from basswood—the most common timber of Eastern Europe—together with worn linen and leather. The only uncommon thing about it was this: "Idiot! Don't look at me with those dull eyes of yours!" The words rang out from the interviewee, though her lips never moved.

A white veil ravaged by time, found by the interviewee on the floor of a church. Between earnest blessings and sore farewells, it carries many heartfelt voices. Unable to bear the thought of letting them wither to nothing, she solemnly wears it upon her head, allowing their murmurs to resonate in her ears.

"You don't have to cry anymore ... I will be here with you. I swear." The interviewee's comfort proves effective, and the murmurs are hushed.

A veil of white lace, so light it seems to have escaped gravity. According to the interviewee, throughout history, the broken memories, emotions, and experiences of countless people have taken shape as the tiny pearls and star-like gems that adorn it.

"Nothing is ever truly forgotten."

While the author was preparing to begin the interview, a wooden puppet with a pumpkin for a head shouted, "Trick or Treat!"

The interviewee apologized, claiming that this was how her friend expressed enthusiasm and that the eccentric attire and high-pitched tone were intended to create a festive atmosphere. The author presumes the folk tales about a "screaming pumpkin" can be traced to this creature.

A child's vest, left behind in history's mud. Someone picked it up, washed it in silence, and dyed it daisy gold, bright as the flowers that grow wild over the ruins. Later, as it dried in the sunlight, the interviewee says she heard a murmur carried on the wind: "Don't leave me here, Mum."

Pumpkin flowers and vines covered in thorns. At the suggestion of the many ghostly friends living in the pumpkins, the interviewee has adorned her hair and the hems of her clothes with them. "The bright color symbolizes the hope and passion that this castle is lacking ..."

Prompted by the enthusiastic suggestions of the interviewee, the author reluctantly tried on a matching bracelet, which, of course, was far from comfortable. The author had no choice but to turn down the subsequent invitation to the "pumpkin costume party."

What is tradition? Or perhaps the better question is this: how are people meant to remember it?

For those who have not yet known misfortune, the answer is obvious—it's food, clothing, movement, and speech. It's living within history, where even the smallest daily habits repeat themselves in the body like some ancient, inherited faith. Tradition is memory, and memory is the ever-living present.

Until the twentieth century arrived.

Humanity's understanding of the world swelled alongside its ambitions, and countless peoples were swept into political persecution, war, and even slaughter. Borders were torn apart by force. The march toward national independence was cut short, again and again, until people themselves—the most basic unit of any society—ended up losing their homes, their culture, even their language, whether they meant to or not.

So now, how are people meant to remember?

The uprooted cannot answer that question. They come instead to a mysterious building, seeking either lasting shelter or a few moments of peace.

In the undisturbed stillness, the shattered, the silenced, and the long-forgotten moments rose back into memory.

Someone remembered a song, one that had been sung in the fields of this land, and across the snow-laden plains beneath the birch:

"I have walked among every grave, searching for my mother's trace ..."

And with every voice that sang it, or perhaps under the shifting light, the song grew more alive, until at last—

She woke.

Congratulations! If you've picked up this manual—one that never should have found its way into your otherwise flawless adventuring life—and you're determined to find a solution to the "special circumstances in the ruins," trust me: follow the instructions below, and your misfortunes will soon turn into the sheer joy of seeing daylight again!

1. Follow the triangles on the ceiling.

Do not follow any other basic geometric pattern—rectangles, semicircles, or otherwise. Only triangles point the way forward.

Clear handwriting: ... A physical proof of sacred geometry? But now isn't the time to think about that.

2. If you hear singing echo through the ruins and see "the girl with the hand puppet," don't be afraid. Keep moving.

This is a perfectly normal phenomenon here. However, if you insist on chasing after the girl, you'll almost certainly end up more lost than before.

Angry, jagged handwriting: How is that "perfectly normal"?! This place is obviously haunted!

3. Should you have the misfortune of encountering the situation described in Instruction 2, wait a while.

During this time, if you hear children mocking while witnessing the puppet singing on a stage with twisted branches around it, stay calm. They are only trying to scare you off.

4. If, while waiting, you feel overwhelmed with exhaustion or fear and feel like crying—go ahead and cry. In fact, you should even if you don't feel like it.

Experience has shown that once the puppet and the voice sense you pose no threat, and recognize you as nothing more than a helpless, desperate wanderer, they are likely—almost certain—to fade away on their own.

After that, when the singing rises again, follow it. It will lead you safely out of the ruins.

Ink-smeared handwriting: It's true ... it really is true! Thank god ... no—thank the ghosts!

Honza: Wh—what?! Another blabbery mouth?! Honza is supposed to be running the show here!

Pandora Wilson: From the moment this interview began, you have indeed been running the show.

Honza: Hmph. That's more like it. But we're stick-stuck together. We don't need an audience!

Pandora Wilson: ... So is that why you always stayed in that building before?

Pandora Wilson: Loneliness made that place feel familiar. And familiarity is what kept that wall up between you and the outside world.

Everecho: Ah ...

Pandora Wilson: Ms. Everecho?

Everecho: ... No. That's not right.

Everecho: It wasn't because ... we were lonely.

Everecho: They ... the people from before. Their presence remains there.

Everecho: In the light, among the leaves, in the echoes of the building ...

Pandora Wilson: I see. But now you're willing to step forward and speak with UTTU. What changed for you?

Pandora Wilson: Oh—you're pointing to your chest. Does that mean—

Everecho: It means that now, they're here too.

Everecho: Nothing will ever be forgotten again.