Hellreach

Names in the prose carry quiet weight. Brush against Crown Princess Aelinna and the codex murmurs what is known of her. Pass over Astronomer Vesper, or the city of Vextar, and the same instrument answers in their key. The angels of the Twelve of Kryor answer in gold.

Hover for the whisper. Click the same name to open the full drawer — a single, focused page that does not pull you out of the chapter you were reading. Press Esc to dismiss it.

When the chronicler records a single speaker on the record — a confession, an order, a line worth setting apart — the prose lifts into a quote. Indent, a vertical rule the colour of the speaker's faction, the attribution beneath. The body type around it stays where it was.

I will not call a pattern a pattern until it has refused, three or four times, to be anything else.

Quotes inherit the QUOTES scope in the reading panel — you can give them their own typeface, size, and line-height while body prose stays untouched.

In source, this is shorthand: [quote="Aelinna"]…[/quote] — the chronicler authors it, the page renders it.

Where the chronicle records a true exchange — letters that crossed, words that answered words — the page turns into a conversation. Speakers alternate sides; the rhythm becomes legible at a glance.

Adjacent quotes by the same hand merge into a single bubble. The chronicler's narration stays in the body type between them. Conversations have their own CONVO + SPEAKER scopes in the reading panel.

Find the AA button anchored to the bottom-right of every page. It opens the reading panel — the chronicle's instrument for shaping how prose looks to you, without changing what it says.

Each scope is independent. You can give chapter prose one face, the book a second, conversations a third — or set everything from the ALL tab and let the rest cascade.

• FONT — serif, sans, monospace, or OpenDyslexic.
• SIZE — five steps from compact to vast; the layout grows with you.
• LINE — tight / normal / loose.
• WIDTH — how far the column stretches, from narrow to vast.

Scopes you can edit:

Your choices ride a cookie. The book remembers across chapters, across sessions, across the whole of the chronicle.

The reader locks to a two-column spread the way a printed book does. Turn pages with the side arrows, the ← / → keys, or any direction key your hand happens to find.

A breadcrumb at the top tells you where you are in the season. A summary, when one exists, sits to the right of the spread — the chronicler's own brief, never a spoiler for chapters you have not reached.

Tap F for focus mode, N for next chapter.

If the chronicle is the body, the wayfinding is the marginalia. Three doors open onto it:

• The Wiki — every named character, place, and artefact, gathered into a single browsable index.
• The Factions — the alignments, alliances and feuds; who answers to whom, and who refuses to.
• The Lore — the eras, the doctrines, the long-form essays on what the chronicle is measuring. A floating rail lets you skim across all twenty-one eras without losing your place.