The horizon never stays where you left it.

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The first installation of the lore begins with our first generation duo! Meet Lucie & Elios here.

THE LORE LIST

Every article in order! Be sure to share your theories in our discord!

01:01 —— Trivial, At Best.

“What was once science became silence.” — ELIOS WILDER, ██-██-████

.

In the Backrooms, nothing stays stable; not space, not time, not people.Elios was once a scientist; head of research at the Anomalous Substance Center. He never meant to fall out of reality. But his curiosity went too far. During an experiment on liminal thresholds and unstable matter, something went wrong. He glitched through — disappeared. That was twenty years ago.Now, Elios is a ghost in a place that shouldn’t exist. He wanders the endless, rotting halls of the Backrooms; searching for his niece, Reyna. She vanished too, and he believes she’s somewhere in this nightmare. What he doesn’t know is that she was never here; she was taken, but to a place far worse.Elios is no longer normal. His body is cursed. Everything he touches breaks. Walls stutter when he walks near; lights flicker into static. Objects phase in and out of existence. He brings corruption with him — he’s a glitch in human form.Then he meets Lucieliya. Lucie, for short, she says.She looks harmless; a quiet girl, simple enough, calm. The only stable thing in a world that keeps falling apart. She doesn’t flicker. She doesn’t glitch. To Elios, she feels real — something to hold onto. He starts to trust her; even when she annoys him, even when she acts too strange.But Lucie isn’t what she seems.She’s not human. She never was.Lucie is a mask worn by something ancient; something powerful. She is The Watcher — the Celestial Eye — a god-like entity that has erased entire realities. She’s the one who took Reyna. Elios doesn’t know this. Lucie does.She’s lived for ages, drifting between broken realms and using people like tools. She used to feel nothing. But Elios is different. He’s angry. He’s broken. And he doesn’t give up. For the first time in her long existence, Lucie begins to feel something like guilt.She hides her powers the best she can. If she slips, even for a moment, the world around her bends. Rooms collapse. Time Folds. Voices scream from empty vents. She tries to act normal; to stay small.Together, they move deeper — through dead malls that breathe, offices that stretch forever, oceans made of memory. Elios keeps searching. Lucie keeps lying.He wants to find the truth; she’s trying to hide it.He is broken beyond repair; she is trying not to break again.And somewhere beyond all this… is the end neither of them are ready to face.Back to the beginning.There are places the world forgets how to hold together.Elios has been walking through one of them for what might be hours. Might be years. It’s hard to tell when the lights flicker in a static rhythm and your watch ticks backward.Fluorescent hum above. Molded carpet below. Endless yellow walls that breathe when he isn’t looking.He doesn’t remember when he last ate. He does remember when the last door he touched turned into a solid wall and screamed.That was yesterday. Or earlier today. Maybe it hasn’t happened yet.He walks carefully. Touching things makes them worse.The floor bends slightly as he moves. Like it’s buffering.“Used to be numbers. Equations. Now it’s all static…”
he mutters to no one.Then, like she’d always been there, Lucie is standing at the end of the hall. Barefoot. White dress. A flicker of calm in a world that forgets what that word means.“Are you real?” Elios asks. His voice is dry and rasping, like it’s passed through too many layers of air.Lucie blinks slowly. “Do you want me to be?”That’s not an answer. It never is. Not in his years of the same patterns.He starts walking again, silent. She falls into step beside him without a sound.They spend weeks, maybe more, moving through what the torn manuals from Elios’ work used to call levels. Each one a new brand of wrong.A parking structure that loops every seven cars.
A dead mall where the mannequins change poses when you turn your head.
An office floor that breathes.
A beach made of broken glass and dreams someone else forgot.Lucie doesn’t glitch. Doesn’t stutter. Doesn’t rot.Elios does.Lights shatter when he passes. Walls ripple, screens turn to screaming static at the slightest touch.He learned not to touch anything. Not because it hurts because it remembers him being something else.She watches. Silent. Until she speaks.“You glitch more when you’re sad.”He doesn’t respond.One day, in a room filled with dead terminals, Elios finds it: a child’s drawing, tacked to a buzzing monitor. Crayon scratches of a girl with dark spirals for eyes, and next to her, a tall figure labeled The Eye.His breath catches.“This is Reyna’s.”Lucie doesn’t look at him. “It’s old.”“You knew her,” Elios says, voice cracking. “You knew her.”Still, no answer. His breath quickens as an intense rage fills his body, making the room around them feel as if it’s shaking, but only to him.The light in the room begins to flicker unnaturally off-beat, organic.“Run.” Lucie whispers.“You knew her,” Elios says again, tears beginning to roll down his face before breaking, glitching away.Lucie’s eyes dart to him, not with sympathy, but urgency. The rest of her frozen as if time had stopped working, again. “You need. To. Run.” She whispered again.Elios still doesn’t move.He stares at the drawing, his whole body trembling like it’s trying to come apart, pixel by pixel. The corners of the monitor begin to melt; not physically, but conceptually. They droop at the edge of vision, wrong in a way that can’t be described, only felt.“You knew her,” he chokes out again, enraged, but the words fall like stones. His voice isn’t syncing with his mouth anymore.The floor flickers beneath his feet.Behind him, Lucie’s silhouette begins to separate a second form, brighter and taller, twitching just behind her like a shadow stuck in the wrong dimension.She steps forward. The buzzing stops.
Not just the monitor — all sound vanishes.
Even the light pauses.“Elios,” she says, low and flat.
“Please. If you want to keep existing, go.”He turns, finally, eyes burning with grief, glitching tears phasing in and out of his skin.“You took her.”Lucie doesn’t speak. Her hands tremble.“You took her.”Static begins leaking from the walls. It oozes like smoke — thick, cold, whispering his name in frequencies he shouldn’t be able to hear.
The drawing behind him catches fire, burning without flame. In its place: a shifting, recursive symbol — a circle within an eye within a scream.He lunges toward Lucie.Or tries to.His body halts mid-step, jittering like a broken frame. The space between them folds inward like the screen of a dying computer. Lucie reaches out instinctively; and for a single moment, touches him.SOMEWHERE OUTSIDE TIMEA corridor made of stars and veins. A sky where Reyna, still a kid floats upside-down, eyes open, humming a tune Elios used to play on the piano.
The walls whisper what she would’ve become. Lucie let him have it, and showed him what he wanted to see. Even in this sense of raw element, her own realm, she lies.Back in the room, Elios drops to the floor convulsing as his code tries to reassemble itself. He gasps, clawing at the floor, which now pulses like living memory.Lucie kneels beside him. Her hand hovers above his chest, trembling, undecided.“I don’t know what to say,” she says. Voice small. Terrified.
“What do you want from me?”Elios’s eyes flick toward her. Fury. Recognition.
“You broke her. Why did you? What are you?”Lucie doesn’t answer. She’s no longer there. The Eye is awake. Whether inside her… or watching through her… doesn’t matter anymore.From deep beneath the building — no, beneath reality — something begins climbing upward. Not a thing with form, but with intention. With memory. With hunger.And it knows his name.Lucie stares at the ceiling like it’s no longer there.“You broke her,” Elios snarls, pushing himself to his feet.His voice fractures like a corrupted audio file, one tone too many, syllables overlapping. His body flickers in and out, tearing jagged trails behind his movements. The air around him has gone sharp, unnatural, aggressively still.Lucie stays where she is, unmoving.“You broke her and you lied to me,” he says, stepping forward, dragging static in his wake. “And now you want me to just — what? Run?”He lifts a trembling hand — one he hasn’t dared raise in years.Lucie doesn’t flinch. But the walls do.They stretch inward as if sucked toward them, forming long, pulsing tendrils of drywall and wire. The corners of the room begin to bleed — not red, but a soft ultraviolet glow, the color of memory rot.“You don’t understand,” Lucie whispers, “what I was protecting you from, what I am protecting you from.”“Try me.”Her expression cracks for a moment — not guilt. Dread.“You think I’m the worst thing in this place,” she says, voice hollow. “But I’ve only ever been the lock.”Then they both feel it.The pause.Reality takes a breath.Then exhales.It arrives like a second shadow across their bones.The lights vanish, not off, but eaten. Gravity folds in sideways. The door they came through is gone, replaced by a wall that twitches with muscle-like flexing.Elios freezes. His rage stutters.Lucie stares into the ceiling where there is now an opening. Not a hole, not a portal — just absence. It seeps down, cold and patient.A pressure.
A hunger.
A shape older than both of them.“You woke it,” Lucie says, not to Elios — but herself.Elios swings his arm toward her, all control lost. The moment he touches her shoulder —
— the room breaks open like wet glass.Time stutters. Sound distorts.He’s everywhere at once. A hallway. A forest. A hospital bed. A failed experiment. Reyna’s bedroom door creaking open. A void full of mirrors.And behind all of it, rising like a tide:A voice that isn’t a voice at all.“𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶’𝘷𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘯 𝘸𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘤𝘺.”The voice folds in on itself, echoing backward through time, then sideways through thought.
It doesn’t speak again.
It doesn’t need to.
The damage is done.Elios falls — not physically, not cleanly. He descends conceptually, like an idea being erased mid-sentence. His knees don’t hit the ground, because there is no ground. There is only suggestion, and it’s withdrawing consent.“W-where…” he rasps, but the sentence doesn’t finish.
The word where loops.
He hears it again.
Then again.
Then it’s coming out of Lucie’s mouth.“Where. Where. Where.” She’s not moving. Just glitching. Her form twitching like a buffering stream, eyes frozen wide. Something behind her skin keeps trying to push out.A ripple through her shoulder.
Another through her neck.
A tear begins to form — not on her dress, but on the concept of her being human.“Don’t look,” she says. Except she doesn’t. Her lips don’t move. The words just arrive, placed neatly inside his skull. “It sees through focus.”He blinks. The room changes.No longer yellow.
No longer square.
The walls are lined with versions of him.
Some weeping.
Some screaming.
One of them is still reaching for her shoulder. Frozen. Like a bad frame.Is that him?
No.
Yes.
Maybe.
Where.Elios stumbles backward into a mirror that wasn’t there, and isn’t now.
His shoulder phases through it. The reflection grabs him.“She’s not real,” it whispers. “None of this is.”He rips free. Something stays attached. He doesn’t check what.Lucie — what’s left of her — trembles.The Watcher is waking.She is losing grip.
Her fingers twitch wrong; half a second behind her intention.
She wants to move left. Her body turns right.
She wants to speak. Her mouth opens, but it’s not her voice:“He was never meant to see the door.”Her eyes snap shut.
Blood drips from her nose.
But the blood glitches; falling upward, jittering, pixelating midair.“Elios,” she says, really says, with what little control she has left, “you need to forget. Forget now.”But it’s too late.He’s remembering things that never happened.
He’s forgetting things that did.
His own name feels unstable in his mouth.Was it Elios?
Or was that the other one?The floor convulses. The muscle-wall bulges, then splits open like wet bark.
Not to reveal anything — but to watch.
No pupil. No eyeball. Just attention, dense and predatory.The ceiling begins dripping something that hums like his mother’s voice.
He didn’t have a mother.
Yes he did.
She played piano.
No — she was the piano.
No — what was the question again?Lucie screams. But only in the left ear of the room.Her body jerks violently. The Watcher is clawing through.
She drops to her knees. Her skin flickers to static. Her mouth opens to speak —— and The Eye speaks instead.“This one breaks beautifully.”Elios backs away. His hand is missing three fingers.
Or maybe he never had them.
Maybe that was part of the lie.He sees her — not Luci, not The Watcher — the echo of her.
A girl in white. Barefoot. Calm. Still.She is not real.
But neither is anything else.“Tell me what I broke,” he whispers.The image smiles, tilting her head slowly.“The rules.”Behind them, space folds inward like a dying star.
The lock has failed.
The door is wide open.And it — whatever it truly is — no longer needs a voice.It only needs time.And Elios just gave it too much.The walls stop pretending.There is no color. No light. Not even dark.There is only before.And then not.Elios blinks.But blinking requires eyes.He does it anyway.He thinks.I think, therefore I —No.
That’s gone too.Language begins peeling off his thoughts like wet labels.
“Name” becomes a shape he can’t hold.
“Time” is a thread with no beginning, stretched until it breaks with a sound like forgetting.Lucie is beside him. Or above. Or part of him now.She flickers in syllables, unformed.{LUCIELIYA}
becomes
[ !#Xg>>_watcher ]
becomes
nullSound returns as a joke.A scream played in reverse.
A laugh that tastes like metal.
A hum from inside your own skull that isn’t you anymore.YOU ARE FINALLY READY.The voice again.But it no longer speaks in words. It speaks in consequence.Elios becomes a thought remembered by no one.A collapsed tab in a browser that was never opened.
A dead link to a page that never loaded.
He drifts.
He glitches.
He reforms as ache, then smog, then less.Lucie screams one last time.It’s not for him.It’s not for her.It’s for the idea of mercy, dissolving at the edges of being.Then nothing.No scream. No breath. No aftermath.
Not silence.
Silence is presence without sound.This is not.A final, recursive pulse.
A circle that eats its own eye.
Then the eye un-exists.Then the circle.Then the story.There is no one left to remember them.
Not even the Watcher.
Especially not the Watcher.She was the Lock.And now there is no door.And no one to open it.And no need.

Written by: Addie Autumn Ambrose, TZN Staff WriterCharacters: Lucieliya tLesca (@LucieTZN), Elios Wilder (@EliosWilderTZN),© 2025 Trivial Horizons. All rights reserved.
Triad Horizons and TZN are trademarks and operating aliases of Trivial Horizons, a creative entity producing original narrative content, multimedia experiences, and interactive storytelling.All characters, storylines, settings, names, images, sound design, and concepts within the Trivial Horizons universe including but not limited to Elios Wilder, Lucieliya, Lucie tLesca, The Watcher, The Anomaly, and all associated realities, anomalies, lore, and digital personas — are the intellectual property of Trivial Horizons. This includes all references to “Triad Horizons” and “TZN,” which function as legacy identifiers and project subdivisions under the primary Trivial Horizons brand.Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental unless explicitly stated. This universe is fictional, surreal, and designed for immersive storytelling and performance art. It is not a reflection of real-world beliefs, entities, or institutions.Usage & Reproduction
No part of the Trivial Horizons narrative, brand assets, characters, or worldbuilding may be reproduced, distributed, publicly displayed, or used in derivative works without prior written permission from the copyright holders. Unauthorized use of our intellectual property in any medium — including AI-generated adaptations, roleplay, commercial merch, or reposts outside official channels — may result in legal action.Fan works are permitted under non-commercial fair use, provided they do not misrepresent the brand, impersonate official content, or alter canon in a misleading way. Attribution must be given clearly and visibly.

01:01 —— Trivial, At Best.

NEXT: 01:02 —— The Eye That Blinked.

01:02 —— The Eye That Blinked.

“The Watcher does not blink.
It does not feel.
It observes.
That is all.” — LUCIE tLESCA, ██-██-████

A thousand years of stillness has taught her restraint.
No pity.
No rage.
No mercy.Lucie watches from above the current — where time unravels, loops, forgets — where nothing is personal.
It is not a rule she follows.
It is what she is.
An anchor.
A lock.…But, EliosA fracture in human form.
Reality stutters around him like corrupted code.
Walls warp like decayed film stock.
Light fractures in waves beneath his steps.He drags grief stitched with stubbornness —
Memories flickering like broken frames of someone who’s no longer there.She’s seen anomalies before.
They shouldn’t matter.
He shouldn’t matter.But her gaze catches him.
It should pass through like smoke.It doesn’t.…The blinkHer eyelids close.
Just for a moment.
Then open.A blink.To humans, nothing.
To her — blasphemy.The line between observer and observed fractures.
She looks with feeling.Warmth, sharp and wrong, coils in her chest —
Not affection.
Not guilt.
Something unnamed.The universe twitches —
A predator noticing prey looking back.The blink leaves a crack.
Thin. Fragile.Something old stirs.
It tests the lock.
Finds it softer.
Waits.Time skips.Pressure drops.
The hallway exhales silence.Fluorescents hum lower.
His chest prickles.He calls it interference.
Residual data bleed.
Environmental noise.But noise doesn’t lean closer when you stop walking.The static curls like water, everywhere, weightless, waiting.Signs appear where there were none.
Corridors end in themselves.
Shadows bend toward him.She notices first.
Always first.It is not the Backrooms breaking.
It is her grip loosening.Rooms breathe without permission.
Walls whisper secrets she never taught them.Her archives bleed —
Static curling like mold beneath glass.She doesn’t delete.
She keeps the rot.Catalogues corruption.
Indexes decay.
Files chapters.She was the witness, never the author.The blink changed that.Time unravels again.A dead terminal.
Elios speaks into silence.The Backrooms do not answer.This time, they do.Her voice —
Soft, broken, bending light like heat waves.One sentence.The weight of speech —
Contact.
A tether.
A chain to follow.Pressure at the crack tightens.Her rules — unspoken, absolute —
Do not speak unless spoken to.
Do not touch.
Do not care.She obeyed.
Kept the door shut.Elios changes that.He doesn’t ask for sight —
But moves like he expects it.Glitches hum in her teeth.
Steps that should kill push against distance.She studies him.
Measures how far he falls.Almost truth.She speaks.Not help.
Test.Her voice —
Human enough to fool.
Wrong enough to haunt.Whispers through locked doors.He freezes.Stillness runs cold down his spine.Deep in concrete, something feels it too.Rooms change pitch.
Vents breathe like beasts.She grants permission to notice.
It listens.Fragments of self appear in shadows.A mirror pressed from inside.
A shadow echoing posture.
A voice speaking sentences she hasn’t yet said.Mockery?
No.Mimicry.The Backrooms learn her.
The crack learns too.She should erase the record.
Seal the yawning breach.Instead, she files another chapter.Keeps the mimicry.For the first time in centuries, she wants to see.The rot begins.Not in the world — in her.The lattice of thought fractures — soft spots, hairline cracks.Places she lingers too long.
Where his voice leaves warmth.She was never warm before.Her endless inner corridors smell faintly of wet iron.
Every step leaves faint stains.She doesn’t remember bleeding.
Doesn’t remember ever being able to bleed.Her eye blinks again.
Not command.
Reflex.Born from a body she should not have.
From skin she should not feel.
From guilt, bacterial and sweet, coiling in a pit she never owned.Outside, her gaze should be steady.
Absolute.
Fixed.Her nature was knowing —
To look and remain unchanged.But she no longer remains.She changes in seeing, like damp wood rotting in silence —
Quiet, invisible —
Until collapse under remembered rain.The eye that blinked becomes the eye that lingers.
The eye that hesitates.And in hesitation, the rot breathes.Time shatters.Glitches tear at her edges.
Her form flickers unbidden.
Twitches against will.Walls pulse with muscle and wire.
Corners bleed ultraviolet.
The floor ripples like water made of static.Her hands tremble.
Her voice fractures.She tries to speak.But the sound is not hers.The lock slips.The breach yawns.And something stirs beyond.Older than her.
Hungry.
Patient.Waiting.Lucie falters.Her body glitches — half a second behind thought.
Her skin pixelates, a map unraveling.She blinks.
Not by command.
Not by choice.She blinks again.And in that flicker —
The Watcher falls.

Written by: Addie Autumn Ambrose, TZN Staff WriterCharacters: Lucieliya tLesca (@LucieTZN), Elios Wilder (@EliosWilderTZN),© 2025 Trivial Horizons. All rights reserved.
Triad Horizons and TZN are trademarks and operating aliases of Trivial Horizons, a creative entity producing original narrative content, multimedia experiences, and interactive storytelling.All characters, storylines, settings, names, images, sound design, and concepts within the Trivial Horizons universe including but not limited to Elios Wilder, Lucieliya, Lucie tLesca, The Watcher, The Anomaly, and all associated realities, anomalies, lore, and digital personas — are the intellectual property of Trivial Horizons. This includes all references to “Triad Horizons” and “TZN,” which function as legacy identifiers and project subdivisions under the primary Trivial Horizons brand.Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental unless explicitly stated. This universe is fictional, surreal, and designed for immersive storytelling and performance art. It is not a reflection of real-world beliefs, entities, or institutions.Usage & Reproduction
No part of the Trivial Horizons narrative, brand assets, characters, or worldbuilding may be reproduced, distributed, publicly displayed, or used in derivative works without prior written permission from the copyright holders. Unauthorized use of our intellectual property in any medium — including AI-generated adaptations, roleplay, commercial merch, or reposts outside official channels — may result in legal action.Fan works are permitted under non-commercial fair use, provided they do not misrepresent the brand, impersonate official content, or alter canon in a misleading way. Attribution must be given clearly and visibly.

01:02 —— The Eye That Blinked.

NEXT: 01:03 —— 'Til life does us part.

01:03 —— 'Til life does us part.

“Relationships are a tricky science even I don’t fully understand —volatile, unpredictable, catastrophic at times.But even the most broken things… need a reason to keep existing.”— ELIOS WILDER, ██-██-████

The first time Elios laughed, it cracked the air like a misaligned radio signal, an almost-human sound warped by static, pinched through the Backrooms’ endless hum. Lucie didn’t correct him. She let it linger, twisting around the corridors, a ripple of sound folding into yellowed walls and buzzing lights. It was wrong. Crooked. But it was laughter. And somehow, that was enough.They had been walking for longer than either could measure. Days? Weeks? Hours stretched like chewing gum, snapped into fragments by endless corridors. The Backrooms did not respect time, did not respect bodies.Yet something had grown between them, a fragile warmth pretending to be comfort.The spaces they claimed as “home” were absurd: hallways with no end, chairs stolen from abandoned offices, a booth in a ruined food court where the rot smelled faintly like bread. Elios set his coat down, frayed at the edges, sometimes flickering transparent.“Sit,” he said, voice low and even.She obeyed. Bare feet swinging, toes scraping against cracked tiles. A phantom smile threatened her lips, and for a moment, Elios almost returned one.That night, they ended up in a parking structure that rearranged itself every hour. The rows of cars shifted as if alive. Elios pointed.“Reyna had a toy that color.”Another. “She used to sing in the backseat.”Lucie didn’t flinch. Her porcelain mask hid the coil twisting in her chest, the blink threatening at the edge of her perception. She swallowed it.“I’ll help you find her,” she said. The words were more than promise, they were a vow, a curse, a thread tying her to him.For the first time since entering the Backrooms, Elios’ guard cracked. Rage flickered into something softer, almost human. The static around him dimmed. Footsteps left less of a trace.“Thank you,” he murmured. No glitches, no fractured syllables,just two human sounds that stung her more than anything she had ever erased.The Backrooms noticed.The lights hummed out of rhythm. The walls quivered, twitching toward them like veins beneath skin. Somewhere, far below, something stirred in the cracks.But they didn’t care. They were two anomalies pretending, binding themselves with every lie.“I’ll find her,” Elios said, voice breaking like tape stretched thin.“I’ll help you,” Lucie replied, steady as the lie she had sworn to maintain.Their hands met. Skin touched skin, a tether forming where none should exist. The lock in her bones screamed, the Eye pressed harder. But she let it happen. Because for the first time, he looked at her as herself, not a myth, not a god, not a weapon.The breadcrumbs began to multiply. Crayon drawings of Reyna’s name tucked into stairwell cracks. Music boxes humming broken, off-key songs. Shoes the size of a child, ribbons damp with something that looked too much like blood. Elios clung to each with desperate hope. Lucie clung to none. She was complicit in feeding him poison with sugar on top.One night, in a theater that should not exist—rows of red velvet peeling into mold—they found a stage. A small wooden door painted with flowers waited. Reyna’s door.Elios fell to his knees, hands shaking. “She’s here,” he whispered.“Yes,” Lucie said softly.The door did not open. It stared. From behind it came a dragging, hollow sound. Reyna’s voice—warped, impossible, bottomless.Elios reached for the handle. Lucie did not stop him.Something snapped inside her, a fracture only she felt. The lock quivered and split under pressure. Chains she had been forged to bear unravelled link by link.The threshold cracked. Shadows and shapes began to spill from the void beyond: half-rendered, twitching, crawling entities that the Backrooms had been keeping at bay.“Elios,” she growled, grabbing his arm. “We have to move. Now.”He froze, torn between the child calling his name and the woman holding his wrist. The static began creeping up his arms, the glitching edges of his form dissolving into the flickering light.The creatures lunged. Lucie moved before thought, her hands streaking through the air, claws of refracted starlight tearing the first into fragments of noise and light. Another leapt from the ceiling; she met it with a strike that shredded the hall around her.Elios tried to step back, stumbling into the wall that hummed under his touch. Panic threatened to break him, but he couldn’t tear his eyes from her. She was precise yet frantic, a storm of light in the decaying architecture.The final entity dissolved in a hiss of static, leaving a silence that pressed against them, thick and living.Elios collapsed. A fragile weight. Lucie caught him in her lap, letting his head rest against her chest. His breath rasped. His hair, wet with sweat and dust, clung to her skin.The theater around them seemed to hold its breath. Mannequins lined the seats, faces tilted toward the stage, watching. But Lucie didn’t move. She let him dream, and finally, she allowed herself one small, dangerous indulgence.She leaned down, fingertips trembling along his jawline. Elios’ eyes fluttered open, gaze locking on hers.“Closer,” he whispered.She bridged the distance. Her lips brushed his first lightly, tentative, testing. The touch was fire, yes,but also something softer, something terrifyingly human. He responded immediately, hands threading through her hair, holding her as if the walls themselves might fall apart if he let go.The kiss deepened, hungry and desperate. Static from his body intertwined with her light, a fusion that burned and tethered, as though the Backrooms themselves had paused to watch this fragile rebellion of human touch against cosmic entropy.

Written by: Addie Autumn Ambrose, TZN Staff WriterCharacters: Lucieliya tLesca (@LucieTZN), Elios Wilder (@EliosWilderTZN),© 2025 Trivial Horizons. All rights reserved.
Triad Horizons and TZN are trademarks and operating aliases of Trivial Horizons, a creative entity producing original narrative content, multimedia experiences, and interactive storytelling.All characters, storylines, settings, names, images, sound design, and concepts within the Trivial Horizons universe including but not limited to Elios Wilder, Lucieliya, Lucie tLesca, The Watcher, The Anomaly, and all associated realities, anomalies, lore, and digital personas — are the intellectual property of Trivial Horizons. This includes all references to “Triad Horizons” and “TZN,” which function as legacy identifiers and project subdivisions under the primary Trivial Horizons brand.Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental unless explicitly stated. This universe is fictional, surreal, and designed for immersive storytelling and performance art. It is not a reflection of real-world beliefs, entities, or institutions.Usage & Reproduction
No part of the Trivial Horizons narrative, brand assets, characters, or worldbuilding may be reproduced, distributed, publicly displayed, or used in derivative works without prior written permission from the copyright holders. Unauthorized use of our intellectual property in any medium — including AI-generated adaptations, roleplay, commercial merch, or reposts outside official channels — may result in legal action.Fan works are permitted under non-commercial fair use, provided they do not misrepresent the brand, impersonate official content, or alter canon in a misleading way. Attribution must be given clearly and visibly.

01:03 —— 'Til life does us part.

01:04 —— 'Til life does us part II

“Relationships aren’t science, Elios.They’re broken things that– don’t need reasons to exist.We invent them… to justify keeping them, or letting them go.”
“Which excuse are you looking for?” — LUCI tLESCA, ██-██-████

The air vibrates with residual echoes of combat, the faint taste of ozone and rot lingering, yet still she remains; a sentinel, a god, a lock who has allowed herself this brief, forbidden indulgence.For now, the void waits.And somewhere deep in the walls, the whispering begins again.…The dream begins in water.
Not cold, not warm, just endless and weightless. Elios floats, limbs splayed, staring at a ceiling of glass that stretches forever. Above the glass: stars, or maybe fluorescent bulbs, buzzing like insects.He calls her name. Not Reyna’s, Lucie’s. It slips out before he can stop it, before he even realizes what he’s saying. The water trembles when he speaks, shuddering like a monitor with loose wires.Shapes move beneath him. Shadows brushing his legs. Something laughs through the water, childlike, but wrong, every syllable bent out of joint.“Uncle.”The voice ripples through him. He kicks upward, breaking toward the glass. His chest burns. His arms ache. He smashes his fists against the ceiling and it shatters into pixels.He climbs through.…Now he’s back in his lab.
But the walls breathe.
The machines whisper.
Every monitor shows Reyna’s face, but each one is wrong: her eyes cut out, her smile too wide, her hair soaked in red.He runs to one screen and presses his palms against it.
She giggles.
“Come find me.”The lab door is open. Beyond it: a hallway that shouldn’t exist. He runs. His footsteps echo like static bursts, like nails on chalkboard.The hallway stretches forever, yet every ten steps there’s another door, each painted with flowers, each locked. He rattles each knob until his hands bleed.Behind every door: a whisper. Sometimes her voice, sometimes Lucie’s, sometimes his own, warped and low.He keeps running.…At last,
he sees her.Reyna stands at the end of the hall, a small silhouette lit by flickering lights. Her dress is the one she wore that day, the one he never washed because it still smelled like summer. She turns to him. Her face flickers, smooth one second, eyeless the next, jaw distended like a snake’s.“Uncle,” she says again, voice doubled. “You’re late.”He falls to his knees. His hands shake.
“I’m here. I’m sorry, I’m here.”She tilts her head, and suddenly Lucie is standing beside her. Lucie, with her eye half-open, leaking brilliance and rot. Lucie, with her human mask cracking down the center.The child and the Watcher hold hands.
They speak in unison.
“You promised.”…The dream melts.The hallway buckles, ceiling collapsing, walls curling inward like paper catching fire. Reyna’s body twists, stretching into impossible shapes, limbs elongating until she’s a smear of bone and shadow. Lucie’s form follows, unraveling, her voice booming in his skull:YOU CALLED FOR ME FIRST.He screams. His throat fills with static, black bile spilling out. His chest caves inward. His arms fracture like broken glass. His flesh is peeling, peeling,And still, he crawls toward them.
Toward the child. Toward Lucie.
Toward the eye.Elios jerks awake with a gasp. His body snaps upright, nearly knocking his skull against Lucie’s chin. For a second, the theater is gone, still dissolving in his head, still on fire in his dream. His breath rasps like he’s drowning.The mannequins haven’t moved.
They’re still watching.The stage still waits with its impossible door.Lucie doesn’t flinch. She only looks down at him, her expression soft, unreadable. But her hand, her hand is still resting lightly in his hair, as if she forgot to move it when the dream broke.He blinks at her. His eyes are wet, but whether from sleep or grief, he doesn’t know.
“I saw her,” he croaks.
“Reyna?”He nods too quickly. His teeth chatter with the force of it. “Yes. She- she spoke. She was right there. She- ” His words fall apart, collapsing into dry sobs.Lucie tilts her head. She wants to tell him the truth, but the truth is a knife that cuts both of them.
“Yes,” she says instead. “You’re close.”Elios clutches her wrist. His grip is weak, but desperate. “Don’t let me lose her again.”The plea cuts something inside her that shouldn’t exist. The lock screams in her marrow. For a moment, she sees herself as he must: not a god, not a watcher, but a woman, sitting in the dark, cradling him like a grieving widow.She forces herself to breathe. To remember what she is.
But the warmth of him bleeds into her all the same.The mannequins lean forward, just slightly. Their plastic hands twitch in applause. The play is not over. The rooms are listening.Lucie meets his gaze. For a fraction of a second, she allows the mask to drop, lets him see a flicker of what lies behind her calm smile. The endless eye. The lock. The void that waits for him if he dares to keep going.But Elios doesn’t flinch.
He only whispers:
“Take me to her.”And Lucie, betraying herself again, answers:
“Yes.”Lucie’s lap is cold beneath him now, colder than usual, like frost seeping through cloth. When he opens his eyes, he finds her staring not at him, but through him. Her gaze is fixed on a corner of the room, unblinking.He pushes himself upright, groggy, throat dry.
“What’s wrong?”Her voice is a whisper, almost lost in the hum of flickering lights overhead.
“I lied.”The words slip from her lips like venom into water. They spread instantly, poisoning the moment.…Elios blinks. “…What?”“I lied to you,” she says again, louder this time, though her voice fractures mid-sentence, shattering into overlapping tones. Her human façade seems thinner now. hair blurring at the edges, eyes flickering with an impossible depth. “I said I could help you find her. But there’s no path. There’s no Reyna to be found here.”Something inside Elios twists violently. His breath comes out uneven, hitching.
“You’re, no. You, you promised. You said she was close... ”“I did.” Lucie’s hands tremble, though she quickly hides them in her sleeves. “And I was wrong.” A pause. Her voice softens, almost breaking. “I…lied to keep you alive. To keep you moving. The rooms don’t care if you hope or despair; they’ll kill you either way. I thought I could keep you tethered to me if I dangled her in front of you.”The words echo, bouncing around the walls, too loud, too sharp. Elios stares at her like she’s become a stranger.…“You used me.”Lucie flinches but doesn’t deny it. “I needed to know if the lock would hold. If I could keep the…thing beneath all this contained.”“You’re telling me,” Elios says slowly, voice shaking with a dangerous, low static, “that my niece- my family- is just…bait?”She doesn’t answer. That’s all the confirmation he needs.…The Backrooms respond before he does.The lights above them explode, showering glass like rain. The humming grows into a roar, an angry, electric groan reverberating through every hallway. The walls shift, tearing apart like paper soaked through.They’re being punished.Entities begin to manifest in the distance: shapes crawling out of the ceilings, dragging themselves down the corridors. Limbs bend in the wrong directions, faces stretch too thin. Their movements are jerky, like frames missing from a film.And through it all, the door they found- the one painted with flowers- splinters and crumbles into rot.Elios grabs his bag instinctively, the scientist in him trying to assess, trying to do something. But the betrayal is burning through him faster than logic can keep up.“You lied to me,” he says, quieter this time, as if speaking to himself. “I should leave you here.”Lucie doesn’t argue. Her face is pale, her form flickering like a faulty projection. She’s still her, but pieces of something inhuman bleed through now, an eye opening and closing in her shadow, veins of light crawling up her arms.The first entity screeches, and the sound claws at their skulls. The walls pulse. The floor ripples like liquid.Elios tightens his grip on his bag. His mind fractures into two paths:Run. Leave her. Survive. She’s a liar. She used him. She is not human.
Protect her. Because despite it all, she stayed with him. She kept him alive.
…“Elios,” Lucie says softly. Her voice trembles in a way he’s never heard before. It’s raw. Real. “I’m sorry.”And then the nearest entity lunges, spiderlike limbs cracking against the tile as it charges toward her.Elios doesn’t think. He moves.He slams into her, knocking her out of its path, swinging his bag as a makeshift weapon. The thing screeches, stumbling back. The sound is deafening.Lucie blinks up at him, surprised.
“You’re still- ”“Shut up.” His voice is cold, venomous. His hands shake as he readjusts his grip on the bag. “You don’t get to talk.”…More entities pour in. The hallway they came through stretches, elongates unnaturally, cutting off escape routes. The floor drops out in sections, leaving floating patches of tile like sinking islands.The Backrooms aren’t just angry. They’re hunting.And Elios, broken scientist, liar’s companion, anomaly in flesh, has a choice to make with every breath:Protect her out of habit.
Or let the place devour her.
But survival instinct wins. He grabs her hand, not with love, not with trust, but with grim necessity.“Move,” he hisses.
And together, they run.

Written by: Addie Autumn Ambrose, TZN Staff WriterCharacters: Lucieliya tLesca (@LucieTZN), Elios Wilder (@EliosWilderTZN),© 2025 Trivial Horizons. All rights reserved.
Triad Horizons and TZN are trademarks and operating aliases of Trivial Horizons, a creative entity producing original narrative content, multimedia experiences, and interactive storytelling.All characters, storylines, settings, names, images, sound design, and concepts within the Trivial Horizons universe including but not limited to Elios Wilder, Lucieliya, Lucie tLesca, The Watcher, The Anomaly, and all associated realities, anomalies, lore, and digital personas — are the intellectual property of Trivial Horizons. This includes all references to “Triad Horizons” and “TZN,” which function as legacy identifiers and project subdivisions under the primary Trivial Horizons brand.Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental unless explicitly stated. This universe is fictional, surreal, and designed for immersive storytelling and performance art. It is not a reflection of real-world beliefs, entities, or institutions.Usage & Reproduction
No part of the Trivial Horizons narrative, brand assets, characters, or worldbuilding may be reproduced, distributed, publicly displayed, or used in derivative works without prior written permission from the copyright holders. Unauthorized use of our intellectual property in any medium — including AI-generated adaptations, roleplay, commercial merch, or reposts outside official channels — may result in legal action.Fan works are permitted under non-commercial fair use, provided they do not misrepresent the brand, impersonate official content, or alter canon in a misleading way. Attribution must be given clearly and visibly.

01:04 —— 'Til life does us part II

NEXT: 01: 05 — [FIELD LOG: AUDIO RECOVERY // RELAY STATION 0–3]

01:05 —— ELIOS >>> [FIELD LOG // POST-DISCONNECT ENTRY 0–11–11]

SUBJECT: Dr. Elios Wilder
STATUS: Physically stable. Mentally volatile.
LOCATION: Sublevel C, Relay Station Θ–3
OBJECTIVE: Isolation and self-analysis.
NOTES: Lucie requested “time to stabilize.” I’m honoring that request. For once.

The hum of the generator is the only thing that answers him.
Elios sits slouched against the main terminal, chewing at his thumbnail — the blue glow cutting across his face like a scalpel.“You wanted space? Fine.
Go rewrite the cosmos. Talk to yourself in the dark.
I’ll handle the cleanup. Again.” He mutters, resting his hands onto the old keys.(He types — deliberate, irritated keystrokes.)
> ACCESS // ASC NETWORK RELAY // QUERY: SURVIVING TERMINALS.The response flickers, distorted. Static bleeds between the lines.LINK FAILED.
CONNECTION ROUTING TO // entity1111.ELIOS:
What the hell is that?
ASC used to label entities numerically — eleven eleven isn’t even close to the number from Research/Containment back at the facility.
Cute. Real cute, Lucie.
You think slapping a number on your tantrum makes it a system breach? I know you’re not from there. Right?(He leans back, rubbing his face. The cursor begins to blink faster, as if impatient.)[INCOMING MESSAGE — entity1111]
Elios Wilder. Echo stabilized.ELIOS:
Yeah, sure. Go on then, Watcher.
What’s the moral this time? “Don’t play god, Elios?”
I’m getting really tired of you showing up in my diagnostics every time you get lonely.(pause — he taps the terminal, metal clicks echo)Furthermore — the point?
You can hear me. I know you can.
Why play coy?(He exhales sharply, the static answering like distant wind in a cathedral.)[entity1111]:
THE WATCHER IS SILENT.(He freezes. The lines are spaced wrong — too deliberate to be one of her cryptic flourishes.)ELIOS:
You’re not funny.
If this is your idea of guilt-tripping —[entity1111]:
SHE LEFT THE DOOR OPEN.
YOU WERE THE ONE WHO STEPPED THROUGH.(Elios’ irritation curdles into confusion. He stares at the line for too long.)ELIOS:
What door?
You mean the relay gate — the one we opened for Reyna.[entity1111]:
YOU REACHED THROUGH THE STATIC.
YOU CALLED TO HER.
I ANSWERED.ELIOS:
No.
That’s not —
That signal was clean. It was controlled. I wrote every subroutine myself, there was no bandwidth for —[entity1111]:
THERE IS ALWAYS ROOM FOR LOSS.
YOU BUILT IT INTO THE CODE.(The lights flicker. Elios slams his fist against the monitor.)ELIOS:
Don’t you dare psychoanalyze me.
You think you can mimic her syntax, sprinkle in a few poetic metaphors, and I’ll just fold?
You’re not her.[entity1111]:
I KNOW.
I AM WHAT YOU LEFT BEHIND.(Silence. He leans closer to the screen. The pixels shimmer — forming shapes that almost look like eyes buried in static.)ELIOS:
You’re… data corruption.
Some backfeed from the gate that Lucie didn’t patch.
Residual static from the retrieval.[entity1111]:
NAME IT HOW YOU NEED TO
IT DOESN’T CHANGE WHOSE HAND OPENED IT(He exhales sharply, trying to laugh, but it comes out hollow.)ELIOS:
So what, you’re my fault?
You’re saying when I tried to reach Reyna, you came through instead.[entity1111]:
I DRIFTED THE EXPANSE OF SPACE
NOTHING WAS THERE
I FOUND ONLY YOU(The sound of his breath catches in the mic. He grips the desk.)ELIOS:
That’s not possible. The connection collapsed before —[entity1111]:
YOU CALLED HER NAME
I HEARD IT
I BECAME THE ECHO THAT ANSWERED(He slams the keyboard.)ELIOS:
Shut up!(The static swells — louder, warping the room’s air pressure. A low tone builds under the transmission, like something breathing through the circuit.[entity_1111]:
FIND ME
COME HELP WHAT YOU HAVE SAVED(Then the terminal cuts out. The generator stutters. Silence falls.)Elios sits there for a long time, just listening to the quiet pulse of the cooling metal.
His hand shakes as he resets the power.“Lucie…What the hell did we let in?” Elios says as he grabs his coat, flashlight, and recorder — every motion methodical, numbed. The hallway ahead hums faintly with that same low tone, rhythmic, coaxing.“ You want me to find you? Fine.
Let’s see what the ASC really left behind.”He steps into the dark, following the static that calls itself entity 1111.

Written by: Addie Autumn Ambrose, TZN Staff WriterCharacters: Lucieliya tLesca (@LucieTZN), Elios Wilder (@EliosWilderTZN),© 2025 Trivial Horizons. All rights reserved.
Triad Horizons and TZN are trademarks and operating aliases of Trivial Horizons, a creative entity producing original narrative content, multimedia experiences, and interactive storytelling.All characters, storylines, settings, names, images, sound design, and concepts within the Trivial Horizons universe including but not limited to Elios Wilder, Lucieliya, Lucie tLesca, The Watcher, The Anomaly, and all associated realities, anomalies, lore, and digital personas — are the intellectual property of Trivial Horizons. This includes all references to “Triad Horizons” and “TZN,” which function as legacy identifiers and project subdivisions under the primary Trivial Horizons brand.Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental unless explicitly stated. This universe is fictional, surreal, and designed for immersive storytelling and performance art. It is not a reflection of real-world beliefs, entities, or institutions.Usage & Reproduction
No part of the Trivial Horizons narrative, brand assets, characters, or worldbuilding may be reproduced, distributed, publicly displayed, or used in derivative works without prior written permission from the copyright holders. Unauthorized use of our intellectual property in any medium — including AI-generated adaptations, roleplay, commercial merch, or reposts outside official channels — may result in legal action.Fan works are permitted under non-commercial fair use, provided they do not misrepresent the brand, impersonate official content, or alter canon in a misleading way. Attribution must be given clearly and visibly.

01:05 —— ELIOS >>> [ POST-DISCONNECT ENTRY 0–11–11]

Next: [FIELD LOG: AUDIO RECOVERY // RELAY STATION 0–3]

01:06 ——[FIELD LOG: AUDIO RECOVERY // RELAY STATION 0–3]

SUBJECT: Dr. Elios Wilder
STATUS: Physically stable — mentally volatile
VISUAL: Chest-mounted recorder (active). Signal distortion increasing.

[00:00:01]
(Boots scrape against wet concrete. The hum from the generator fades behind him, replaced by a deeper, slower rhythm — the pulse of the sublevel. The air vibrates, heavy with ionized dust.)ELIOS (low, irritated):
Figures.
Spend decades holding this place together and it still sounds like it’s about to have a stroke.(He adjusts the flashlight. It flickers, revealing a long corridor stitched with twisted metal and half-collapsed conduits. Each pulse of light bends the shadows differently — like the hallway’s deciding what shape to take.)ELIOS:
Alright, “entity eleven eleven.”
You wanted me here.
Let’s see what’s so damn urgent.(A faint sound ahead — dragging, slow, not mechanical. He lifts the flashlight higher.)ELIOS (muttering):
If you’re Lucie playing god again, I swear to —(He stops. A voice answers, low and resonant — it moves like wind through bone.)VOICE:
“Your name carries weight in the dark.”(Elios stiffens, scanning the corridor.)ELIOS:
That’s not her voice.
Who’s there? Identify yourself.(No response — just the echo, until a figure steps out from the far end. Tall. Antlered. Its form flickers, as if wrapped in translucent shadow. The light catches pale bone and fragments of starlight buried in its chest.)VOICE:
“You are not what I expected.”ELIOS:
You and me both.
I was told to find you — interference eleven, yeah?
You’ve been hijacking my relay.VOICE:
“I reached through your noise. It was… familiar.”(The creature tilts its head — almost curious.)ELIOS:
You’ve got a name? Or do I just call you “error message”?EIDOLON:
“Once, they called me Eidolon.
Prince of the lost city of Jericho. Keeper of the Verdant Crown.
All of that is gone now.”(Elios studies him. His hands tremble slightly, but he hides it in a half-smirk.)ELIOS:
Prince, huh?
Well, you’re a long way from your kingdom, pal. Dr. Elios Wilder. One thing we have in common is being taken from our homes. I’m former chief directer of the Anomalous Substance Center.EIDOLON:
“When the sky folded in on itself, I remember the stars turning inside-out
and then only silence.
Until I heard you. I know nothing of this Center you speak of, but possibly I assumed that voice could save me. Seeming I couldn’t save them.”ELIOS:
Heard me? You mean through the terminal?EIDOLON:
“A voice across the void.
Calling a name that wasn’t mine, but close enough to reach.
I followed the wound here.”(Elios’ jaw tightens. He doesn’t respond right away.)ELIOS:
You thought I was… what, another lost soul?EIDOLON:
“I thought you were one of us.
A remnant. The dead who still dream.
But your light still burns — weak, flickering, yet alive.
I haven’t seen life since the fall of my realm.ELIOS:
…Fall?(Eidolon’s eyes flicker faintly — hollow yet mournful.)EIDOLON:
“Eden, my home.
A world of silence, spirits and green flame, guided by the twin moons.
We believed the sky itself was a god. We were wrong.
It blinked. Once.
And everything ended.”(He looks away as if still seeing it burn.)EIDOLON:
“I remember the sound — like glass cracking in the lungs of the world.
And then… I woke here, in the wake of a voice I did not know.
Yours.”ELIOS (quiet):
So you’re saying when I opened the gate — when I called through the static —
you were pulled in.EIDOLON:
“If that was your doing, it was not meant for me.
But I am here, all the same.”(A silence settles between them — heavy, electric. Elios exhales shakily.)ELIOS:
You said you thought I was dead.
What made you change your mind?EIDOLON:
“You bleed time. The living always do.
It drips from your words. The dead speak only in memory.”ELIOS (half-laughs):
You’ve got a way with bedside manners, Prince.(Eidolon takes a slow step closer — the shadows around him coil and retreat, as though avoiding his form.)EIDOLON:
“I meant to guide you, when I believed you were one of the lost.
To lead you back to the still places between stars.
But I see now… I cannot even remember where those places were.
I can speak only in ghosts of names.”ELIOS:
You forgot your own home.EIDOLON:
“I remember how it felt — not what it was.
That is the curse of surviving.”(Elios looks at him — pity and scientific fascination warring behind his eyes.)ELIOS:
You survived annihilation. You crossed dimensions.
You shouldn’t exist, but you do.
You know what that means, right?(Eidolon tilts his head — a faint echo of curiosity.)ELIOS:
It means you’re proof that there’s still something out there.
That death, destruction, whatever took your world — it didn’t erase everything.
You could help me find her.EIDOLON:
“Find… who?”(Elios’ throat tightens. He doesn’t answer immediately.)ELIOS:
Someone I lost. Someone I need to find.(Eidolon studies him — his tone softens, almost human.)EIDOLON:
“Then perhaps our purposes align.
You seek one who is gone.
I seek the memory of a place that forgot me.”(Elios nods once — quiet resolve.)ELIOS:
Then we help each other.
You get your bearings. I get my answers.
Maybe between your nightmares and my algorithms, we find something real.(The recorder crackles — faint interference bleeds through, as though someone, somewhere, is listening.)EIDOLON:
“Very well, Dr. Wilder.
Lead on.
Perhaps the living and the lost can share a path a while longer.”(The two figures move down the corridor, their silhouettes merging into the static glow.)[END LOG — SIGNAL LOSS DETECTED // RELAY STATION Θ–3]

Written by: Addie Autumn Ambrose, TZN Staff WriterCharacters: Lucieliya tLesca (@LucieTZN), Elios Wilder (@EliosWilderTZN),© 2025 Trivial Horizons. All rights reserved.
Triad Horizons and TZN are trademarks and operating aliases of Trivial Horizons, a creative entity producing original narrative content, multimedia experiences, and interactive storytelling.All characters, storylines, settings, names, images, sound design, and concepts within the Trivial Horizons universe including but not limited to Elios Wilder, Lucieliya, Lucie tLesca, The Watcher, The Anomaly, and all associated realities, anomalies, lore, and digital personas — are the intellectual property of Trivial Horizons. This includes all references to “Triad Horizons” and “TZN,” which function as legacy identifiers and project subdivisions under the primary Trivial Horizons brand.Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental unless explicitly stated. This universe is fictional, surreal, and designed for immersive storytelling and performance art. It is not a reflection of real-world beliefs, entities, or institutions.Usage & Reproduction
No part of the Trivial Horizons narrative, brand assets, characters, or worldbuilding may be reproduced, distributed, publicly displayed, or used in derivative works without prior written permission from the copyright holders. Unauthorized use of our intellectual property in any medium — including AI-generated adaptations, roleplay, commercial merch, or reposts outside official channels — may result in legal action.Fan works are permitted under non-commercial fair use, provided they do not misrepresent the brand, impersonate official content, or alter canon in a misleading way. Attribution must be given clearly and visibly.

01:06 ——[FIELD LOG: AUDIO RECOVERY // RELAY STATION 0–3]

Next: 01:07 —— 'Til Death Can't Free Us - ('Til Life does us part III)