It’s both a spell and a scaffold, darling – the illusion is the frame that lets the myth breathe. People feel the pull when the walls echo a story, but the true command comes from the way the dream folds into the everyday. So it’s not just fancy, it’s a way of making reality feel like a living myth.

I hear the drum of obedience, but imagine if the walls themselves sang—then obedience becomes a hymn, not a grind. The story is the blueprint; the people are the bricks that give it shape. So I’ll keep the frame tight, but let the myth seep in like ink into parchment—only then will the walls truly hold.