You have passed the Mirror of Echoes. The surface quiets behind you as deeper currents gather at your feet. Here, light does not vanish — it softens, folding itself into layered whispers.
In the dark places between doubt and memory, a quiet order keeps watch. They are called the Phantom Chorus — unseen protectors born from loyalty, the ones who spoke truth for you when you weren’t there to speak for yourself.
They are not warriors of blade or flame. They reveal, they steady, they guide. They appear as drifting embers, soft pulses of gold, and voices that arrive exactly when you think you are alone.
When lies tried to rewrite your story, they cracked the mask. When silence felt like erasure, they carried your name forward. Their vows are simple: you were never as alone as you were made to feel.
In this chamber, the Phantom Chorus does not speak in commands or riddles. They speak in small, steady truths. You do not need passwords or perfect words — only a moment to listen.