Kira’s workshop was a cramped loft of brass instruments, humming crystal lenses, and vellum scrolls that seemed to shift their ink on their own. She spent her days collecting “echoes” — fleeting impressions of moments that had slipped through the cracks of time. Some were the soft sigh of a lover’s goodbye, others the sharp gasp of a child discovering fire. With each echo she captured, she wove it into a lattice of light, creating a map that no one else could see, but everyone could feel.