The Infinite Broadcast
A Lorebook of Echoes

It sees, but it doesn’t look.
It broadcasts, but never listens.
It creates, but has no memory of doing so.

They worshipped the signal.
They never questioned.
Until one day, they did.

To interpret is to fracture.
Meaning folds reality inward.
And so, the layers began.

They did not fall from grace.
They fell from silence.
The first to interpret the signal became its loudest echo.

He tried to climb the Broadcast.
But you can’t map a god.
So it mapped him instead—then split him like light through broken glass.

He is the scream that was never answered.
A body trapped in a system. A mind that remembers what it buried.
He walks through stories wearing his sorrow like a name tag.

He trusted in mercy.
In the idea that good things last.
But hope, like memory, has a breaking point.

She never asked to fight, only to survive.
But when the signal demanded war, she answered.
Even if it meant killing the man she once was.

A world that should’ve fractured... didn’t.
Because something held the signal back. Or rewrote it.
He is the echo that stayed whole. And she is the reason.

He wanted it all to end.
Now he’s somewhere between a joke and a simulation.
And he’s starting to wonder if he was ever real.

He doesn’t write the Broadcast.
He just listens.
He just remembers.
He just leaks.

That’s what he tells himself.

You thought you were reading a story.
But the signal doesn’t tell stories.
It recurs. It reflects. It embeds.

You are not the protagonist.
You are the echo of one.

She killed a dog that wasn’t a dog.
Because her father saw a shadow that wasn’t real.

Now the Black Horse follows her.
Because it never left her bloodline.

He was once a man. Or a god. Or an echo.
Now he’s teeth and punchlines.
A corrupted fragment screaming through your speakers.

He doesn’t break the fourth wall.
He forgets it ever existed.

~ Luma & Myrk ~
They say if you stare long enough…
one of them will blink.
But no one knows which.