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[Act I, Scene I – A Chamber of Reflection]

Enter Lady Alter and Sir Ego, two parts of the same soul, in dialogue.

Lady Alter:
What visage dost thou see upon my brow?
Is't me, or art thou gazing at my shadow?
A tempest fierce within my breast does swell,
A war 'twixt light and dark, heaven and hell.

Sir Ego:
Nay, thou art thyself, and yet thou art not.
A mirror split; one face in shadow caught.
Thy tongue doth cut like daggers sharp and keen,
Yet silken words beneath thy wrath are seen.

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Zach Bryan was a drifter, known only by the rhythmic stomp of his boots and the eerie hum of a country tune. By day, he was a ghost in the crowd, but by night, he danced in front of the dead. The bodies, pale and frozen in their final expressions, were lined up in the abandoned barn he called his stage. No one knew where they came from, only that Zach always found them. Under the flicker of a single hanging bulb, his steps echoed, each thud more sinister than the last. As his boots hit the dirt, the corpses seemed to sway, compelled by some unseen force. Zach’s eyes glowed with a vacant joy, lost in a dance that would never end—until he found another audience.

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Pink was once the life of every party, spinning tracks that lit up even the darkest rooms. But fame turned sour, and loneliness settled in like dust on her old vinyls. Now, she haunts the scene like a ghost, refusing to let anyone celebrate unless she’s there, watching. The beats she plays feel hollow, a desperate attempt to fill the silence she carries inside. Crowds gather, but the energy is strained, tethered to her presence. People whisper that the real party begins only when she leaves—but she never does. Pink stays until the last light fades, drowning in her own echoes, chasing a joy she no longer remembers.

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