The Mirror of Echoes is a mystery play that explores the interplay between thought, language, and feeling—the fundamental threads that weave the fabric of human identity. Set in a surreal and liminal space where the physical and the metaphysical merge, the play invites its characters—and the audience—to confront the complexities of selfhood and the illusions of control, certainty, and meaning.

(released as a serial.)

Cast of Characters

Contents

Act I, Scene 1: The Gathering
Act I, Scene 2: The First Feedback Loop
Act I, Scene 3: The Mirror’s First Reflection

Act I, Scene 2: The First Feedback Loop

Setting:
The stage is divided into three overlapping zones of abstract representation: language, thought, and feeling. These are demarcated by shifting pools of light—sharp geometric patterns for language, shadowy undulations for thought, and warm, fluid ripples for feeling. The Silent Flame glows faintly in the centre, its light pulsating rhythmically.

[The Seekers stand around the glowing circle, their movements hesitant, as if each is testing the boundaries of the space. The Silent Flame flickers slightly, casting surreal patterns onto the stage. Xantho steps forward.]

XANTHO:
Now, the threads must weave, though their pattern is not yet known. Alethea, you will speak first.

ALETHEA:
(Sceptical, looking at the others)
Speak what, exactly?

XANTHO:
Speak what you know. Or think you know. The Flame will answer.

[The Silent Flame flickers, as if in response. Alethea takes a step closer to it.]

ALETHEA:
(After a pause, carefully)
Language is the map of the mind. Each word marks a point—fixed, immutable, so long as we believe it.

[As she speaks, glowing geometric shapes begin to appear around her, forming a lattice of light that stretches into the air.]

SIRIS:
(Snorting)
Fixed and immutable? Or fragile and false?

[The lattice begins to flicker and fracture at his words. A faint hum resonates from the Silent Flame.]

XANTHO:
(Smiling)
And so the Void speaks. Your doubt is a thread, Siris, no less than her certainty. Pull it. See what unravels.

[Siris steps into the circle, pacing as he speaks.]

SIRIS:
(Sceptical)
Words are a veneer, a trick. They shape nothing. They only cling to what is already there, like moss on a stone.

[The geometric lattice dissolves completely. Instead, jagged shadows rise from the floor, swirling chaotically around Siris. Myra steps forward, her face filled with concern.]

MYRA:
(To Siris)
But words touch the heart, too. Not just the mind.

[She moves closer to the Silent Flame. A soft, golden light begins to emanate from her hands, rippling outward like water. The jagged shadows around Siris soften and begin to dissolve into her ripples.]

MYRA:
Feeling is the first language. Before thought, before speech—there is a pulse.

SIRIS:
(Sharply)
A pulse with no meaning is nothing. Chaos. Noise.

[The ripples falter, and the light dims. Xantho steps between them, raising his hands as if conducting an orchestra.]

XANTHO:
(Playfully)
Ah, but chaos is where all meaning begins! Do you see it now? The threads pull against each other, but the loom is already spinning. Watch.

[The Silent Flame flares briefly, casting their shadows against the shimmering mirror at the back of the stage. In the mirror, their reflections move independently, speaking words the characters have not yet said.]

ALETHEA:
(Looking at the mirror, alarmed)
What…what is that?

THANE:
(Stepping forward, his voice low and haunting)
It is you. And not you.

[The Seekers turn to face Thane, who stands just outside the circle, his presence unnerving.]

THANE:
What you speak, it echoes. What you feel, it feeds. Do you hear it? The knot tightens with every word.

[The mirror begins to shimmer more intensely. The reflections grow fragmented, their words overlapping chaotically. The Silent Flame flickers erratically, responding to the growing tension.]

MYRA:
(To Thane, pleading)
Make it stop!

THANE:
(Looking at her, almost gently)
It cannot stop. It was never still.

XANTHO:
(Clapping his hands)
And there it is! The first feedback loop. You speak, and the mirror answers. The Flame flickers, and you reflect it back. A beautiful tangle, no?

SIRIS:
(Frustrated)
This is absurd. You’re just feeding us back to ourselves!

XANTHO:
(Grinning)
Exactly. And what could be more real than that?

[The reflections in the mirror suddenly freeze. The Silent Flame burns steadily, casting long shadows across the stage. For a moment, the space feels eerily still.]

ALETHEA:
(Quietly)
If it’s all a reflection, then…is anything real?

THANE:
(Whispering)
Real is what you cannot untangle.

[The reflections in the mirror begin to move again, but now they are no longer recognisable as the Seekers. They are distorted forms, shifting and merging into abstract shapes. The whispers return, louder and overlapping, filling the space with an unsettling hum.]

XANTHO:
(To the audience, breaking the fourth wall)
And so, the Babel Knot is tied. Words become thoughts. Thoughts become shadows. And the Flame waits to consume them all.

[The Silent Flame flickers brighter, and the scene ends with the reflections in the mirror shattering into a cascade of light. The stage plunges into darkness, leaving only the faint hum of the whispers.]

[Blackout]