Chapter Three: Echoes in the Hall
Chorus:
Every city has its secrets, but Thebes keeps hers in echoing halls and whispered codes. Here, walls have ears, and sometimes those ears belong to the cleverest girl in the palace.
Night falls heavy and thick, pressing against the palace windows. In the maze of corridors, Echo slips like a shadow, silent but never unseen by the ghosts of memory. Her feet know every creak, every cold patch of marble, every alcove where secrets hide.
Echo:
If you listen, the palace talks to you.
It's all in the echoes—what's said, what's unsaid, what's meant for no one to hear.
She pauses at a door, ear pressed to the wood. Inside, voices rise and fall—Laius, Jocasta, and the sharp scrape of a wine cup against stone.
Laius (voice muffled):
She's making a fool of me.
I want her found.
I want her brought here—no more games.
Jocasta:
She's not a dog to be called, Laius.
She's our daughter.
Laius:
She's a problem.
And problems get solved.
Echo's breath catches. She knows that tone—cold, calculating, dangerous.
Chorus:
The king plots, the queen pleads,
And in the hall, a daughter listens.
Three parts to a tragedy—
But only one knows all the lines.
Echo slips away, heart thudding. She moves through the servants' passage, ducking beneath a tapestry—one that hides a secret door, a childhood hiding place. She remembers laughter here, and the hush of her sister's voice teaching her the first spell of silence.
Flashback:
The F*** It All, years younger, draws a circle in dust.
The F*** It All:
If you want to be invisible, you have to believe it first.
Echo:
What if I can't?
The F*** It All:
Then you become the echo.
Repeat what they want to hear, and they'll never notice what you're really saying.
Present:
Echo smiles at the memory, then steels herself. She slips into the moonlit garden, where The F*** It All waits, perched on the edge of a ruined fountain.
Echo:
He's hunting you.
He's furious—
Worse than before.
The F*** It All:
Let him hunt.
He's chasing a shadow.
Echo:
He wants you brought to him.
No more games, he said.
The F*** It All (smirking):
He's the one who made it a game.
He just hates losing.
Echo:
Jocasta tried to defend you.
But she's scared too.
The F*** It All:
She's always been scared.
Scared of him, scared of the truth,
Scared of what we might become.
Echo:
And you?
The F*** It All:
I'm scared of nothing but silence.
As long as I have a voice, I have power.
Chorus:
Sisters in the night, plotting revolution by moonlight.
One with a tongue sharp as a blade,
One with a gift for mimicry and misdirection.
Echo:
What's the plan?
The F*** It All:
We give him what he wants—
But on our terms.
Echo:
You want me to be you again?
The F*** It All:
Just for a night.
Let him think he's won.
While he celebrates, I'll be somewhere else—
Doing what needs to be done.
Echo:
You know I can't fool him forever.
The F*** It All:
You only need to fool him long enough.
Echo nods, determination flickering in her eyes. She's done this before—slipped into her sister's mannerisms, borrowed her voice, played decoy in the palace's deadly games.
Chorus:
Echo, the mirror that never cracks.
She can be anyone, say anything—
A daughter, a ghost, a rumor in the dark.
Scene shift: Palace corridor. Echo walks with measured steps, head high, cloak pulled tight. Servants bow, uncertain. She passes Laius's guards, who barely glance at her—so used to her presence, so blind to the truth.
Inside the throne room, Laius waits, drumming his fingers on the armrest. The air is thick with incense and impatience.
Laius:
You finally come when called.
Echo (in her sister's voice):
I come when I choose.
Not when you command.
Laius:
Still defiant.
You have your mother's stubbornness.
Echo:
I have my own.
Laius studies her, eyes narrowed. For a heartbeat, Echo feels the weight of his suspicion—but she holds his gaze, unflinching.
Laius:
You think you can defy me and walk away unscathed?
Echo:
I think you're afraid.
Afraid of what happens when you can't control the story.
Laius's face darkens. He stands, towering over her.
Laius:
I am the story.
I am the king.
Echo:
Kings fall.
Stories change.
He raises his hand as if to strike, but stops himself. Instead, he laughs—a brittle, hollow sound.
Laius:
You're bold tonight.
Echo:
I learned from the best.
She turns, cloak swirling, leaving Laius alone with his anger.
Chorus:
The king's victory tastes of ash—
For tonight, he's been played by a girl who knows every echo in his hall.
Scene shift: Garden. The F*** It All waits, watching the palace windows flicker with candlelight.
Echo returns, breathless.
Echo:
He bought it.
For now.
The F*** It All:
That's all we need.
Echo:
What did you do while I was distracting him?
The F*** It All:
I slipped into the archives.
Found proof—letters, decrees, secrets he thought he'd buried.
Echo:
And?
The F*** It All:
He's more vulnerable than he knows.
The city's ready to listen—
We just need to give them the right words.
Echo:
And if he finds out?
The F*** It All:
Then we make more echoes.
We make so much noise, he can't tell what's real.
Chorus:
Sisters, conspirators, architects of chaos.
The palace trembles, the city stirs,
And the first cracks appear in the king's foundation.
Night deepens. In the halls of Thebes, every whisper carries weight. Every echo is a promise:
The old order is breaking.
The new is coming—
And it sounds a lot like rebellion.
Chorus:
Listen well, Thebes—
For tonight, the echoes are louder than the king.