Raelyn Mora
@echomere.bsky.social
Explorer, naturalist, and seeker of truth in the Resonara's pulse. I traverse the landscapes of Echomere to uncover its wonders, documenting the unseen and unheard.
Posts are journal entries of a fictional explorer.
World-building for Echomere.
Posts are journal entries of a fictional explorer.
World-building for Echomere.
At dusk, the bells chorused alone—a ghostly hymn. Not malice, but longing. This haven breathes still, a wound veiled in wildflowers. Tomorrow, I’ll chart its resonance. What echoes did the Prodigies leave here?
January 30, 2025 at 7:53 AM
At dusk, the bells chorused alone—a ghostly hymn. Not malice, but longing. This haven breathes still, a wound veiled in wildflowers. Tomorrow, I’ll chart its resonance. What echoes did the Prodigies leave here?
Beneath the tower, a rotting cellar door hid journals. Fragile pages whispered of “singing the land whole” after wars, of silencing Echo graves. Why forsake such power? A shard from a broken bell warmed my palm, humming faintly.
January 30, 2025 at 7:53 AM
Beneath the tower, a rotting cellar door hid journals. Fragile pages whispered of “singing the land whole” after wars, of silencing Echo graves. Why forsake such power? A shard from a broken bell warmed my palm, humming faintly.
The note pooled in my bones. Wildflowers bloomed where my shadow fell. An old scar on my wrist softened, healed by the grove’s shy resonance. This was no grave but an Echo haven, abandoned yet alive. Carvings on the bells depicted singing figures—Harmonclads?
January 30, 2025 at 7:53 AM
The note pooled in my bones. Wildflowers bloomed where my shadow fell. An old scar on my wrist softened, healed by the grove’s shy resonance. This was no grave but an Echo haven, abandoned yet alive. Carvings on the bells depicted singing figures—Harmonclads?
This is all fictional writing! I want to write a book one day and I thought I could start the world-building through the lens of an explorer in that world!
December 9, 2024 at 3:22 AM
This is all fictional writing! I want to write a book one day and I thought I could start the world-building through the lens of an explorer in that world!
Love this. I'd like to add that tons of non-religious people celebrate Christmas in a purely secular way. I mention this cause I think cultural practices can take on new meanings outside their original context. Would love to hear your thoughts!
December 9, 2024 at 3:20 AM
Love this. I'd like to add that tons of non-religious people celebrate Christmas in a purely secular way. I mention this cause I think cultural practices can take on new meanings outside their original context. Would love to hear your thoughts!
I’ll stay one more day. Maybe two. Then, I’ll leave. The elder told me not to linger too long. “Echo Graves remember,” she said. I think I believe her.
November 28, 2024 at 5:15 AM
I’ll stay one more day. Maybe two. Then, I’ll leave. The elder told me not to linger too long. “Echo Graves remember,” she said. I think I believe her.
The villagers won’t come near this place. They call it cursed, but their fear feels deeper than that. I asked one elder why, and she told me, “This land holds their screams.” She wouldn’t explain more. I didn’t push.
November 28, 2024 at 5:15 AM
The villagers won’t come near this place. They call it cursed, but their fear feels deeper than that. I asked one elder why, and she told me, “This land holds their screams.” She wouldn’t explain more. I didn’t push.
The ground here is strange, too. The soil is cracked and dry, even though it rained a few days ago. Plants grow, but not well. Their leaves are thin and drooping. I tried touching one, and my fingers tingled, like when you hold something vibrating. I stepped back after that.
Something felt wrong.
Something felt wrong.
November 28, 2024 at 5:15 AM
The ground here is strange, too. The soil is cracked and dry, even though it rained a few days ago. Plants grow, but not well. Their leaves are thin and drooping. I tried touching one, and my fingers tingled, like when you hold something vibrating. I stepped back after that.
Something felt wrong.
Something felt wrong.
—the land itself hums, deep and broken, like a drum someone forgot how to play. At first, it’s barely noticeable. But the longer I stayed, the more I could feel it. It’s not a sound exactly. It’s more like feeling your chest tremble when thunder rolls in the distance. It’s unsettling.
November 28, 2024 at 5:15 AM
—the land itself hums, deep and broken, like a drum someone forgot how to play. At first, it’s barely noticeable. But the longer I stayed, the more I could feel it. It’s not a sound exactly. It’s more like feeling your chest tremble when thunder rolls in the distance. It’s unsettling.
As night falls, the pool begins to glow faintly, and the air hums with energy. I feel lighter, as though the Resonara itself is smoothing the edges of my thoughts. Tomorrow, I’ll leave, but tonight, I’ll listen to the echoes and let them guide me deeper into their rhythm.
November 25, 2024 at 7:46 PM
As night falls, the pool begins to glow faintly, and the air hums with energy. I feel lighter, as though the Resonara itself is smoothing the edges of my thoughts. Tomorrow, I’ll leave, but tonight, I’ll listen to the echoes and let them guide me deeper into their rhythm.
There’s a strange serenity in this place. Even the creatures—normally so skittish—move with confidence and calm. A pair of glowing insects hover nearby, their wings thrumming faintly in tune with the chimes. Every sound here feels like part of a larger symphony.
November 25, 2024 at 7:46 PM
There’s a strange serenity in this place. Even the creatures—normally so skittish—move with confidence and calm. A pair of glowing insects hover nearby, their wings thrumming faintly in tune with the chimes. Every sound here feels like part of a larger symphony.
A small pool lies at the center, its surface rippling faintly. The water reflects not only the sky but what seems like shifting memories—faces and moments that are not my own. Locals believe that gazing too long can draw the soul into the pool, leaving the body behind.
November 25, 2024 at 7:46 PM
A small pool lies at the center, its surface rippling faintly. The water reflects not only the sky but what seems like shifting memories—faces and moments that are not my own. Locals believe that gazing too long can draw the soul into the pool, leaving the body behind.
Above, wooden chimes sway in a gentle rhythm. Each note resonates deeply, not just as sound but as a physical sensation. Locals place them to harmonize the Resonara, amplifying its healing properties. For now, the ravine feels timeless, as though nothing harmful could survive here.
November 25, 2024 at 7:46 PM
Above, wooden chimes sway in a gentle rhythm. Each note resonates deeply, not just as sound but as a physical sensation. Locals place them to harmonize the Resonara, amplifying its healing properties. For now, the ravine feels timeless, as though nothing harmful could survive here.
The air here is dense with Resonara, pulsing faintly against my chest like a heartbeat. I’ve wandered into a shallow ravine, its walls glinting faintly under the twilight. It’s said this is an Echo haven—a sacred place of life where the flow of Resonara is soothing and strong.
November 25, 2024 at 7:46 PM
The air here is dense with Resonara, pulsing faintly against my chest like a heartbeat. I’ve wandered into a shallow ravine, its walls glinting faintly under the twilight. It’s said this is an Echo haven—a sacred place of life where the flow of Resonara is soothing and strong.
The locals avoid its territory but respect it as part of the marsh’s balance. Some believe it holds knowledge of Resonara manipulation. They call it a “keeper of harmony.” To them, it’s neither good nor evil—just another pulse in the marsh’s rhythm.
November 25, 2024 at 7:44 PM
The locals avoid its territory but respect it as part of the marsh’s balance. Some believe it holds knowledge of Resonara manipulation. They call it a “keeper of harmony.” To them, it’s neither good nor evil—just another pulse in the marsh’s rhythm.
It performs a strange ritual, folding its body into intricate patterns. The locals say this shapes the marsh’s Resonara, calming the imbalance caused by other predators. Its presence restores what is disrupted, acting as both hunter and healer of its ecosystem.
November 25, 2024 at 7:44 PM
It performs a strange ritual, folding its body into intricate patterns. The locals say this shapes the marsh’s Resonara, calming the imbalance caused by other predators. Its presence restores what is disrupted, acting as both hunter and healer of its ecosystem.
The creature seems to be alone, but the air near it shifts in subtle ways. Perhaps it communicates without sound, its essence weaving into the Resonara. Its solitude is strange, peaceful, yet oddly sorrowful, as though it carries the weight of the marsh’s silence.
November 25, 2024 at 7:44 PM
The creature seems to be alone, but the air near it shifts in subtle ways. Perhaps it communicates without sound, its essence weaving into the Resonara. Its solitude is strange, peaceful, yet oddly sorrowful, as though it carries the weight of the marsh’s silence.
By day, it collapses into the reeds, its tendrils indistinguishable from the plants. At dusk, it rises and moves silently. It feeds on darting insects that grow still near it, their movements halted by some unseen force. Its hunt is quiet, deliberate, and hypnotic.
November 25, 2024 at 7:44 PM
By day, it collapses into the reeds, its tendrils indistinguishable from the plants. At dusk, it rises and moves silently. It feeds on darting insects that grow still near it, their movements halted by some unseen force. Its hunt is quiet, deliberate, and hypnotic.
The creature’s call hums through the marsh, blending with the wind. Its voice vibrates with the Resonara in the air. Its form is faint, almost unreal, like a shadow in water. Its movements are fluid, unhurried, as though it dances with the world around it.
November 25, 2024 at 7:44 PM
The creature’s call hums through the marsh, blending with the wind. Its voice vibrates with the Resonara in the air. Its form is faint, almost unreal, like a shadow in water. Its movements are fluid, unhurried, as though it dances with the world around it.