Chapter 14: The Weight of Choice
Kael stood in the alley behind PulseVibe Studio, the city's evening clamor muffled by the brick walls. The air was cool, thick with the scent of rain-damp asphalt and the faint grease of a nearby diner. His guitar case leaned against the wall, the new strap peeking out, its star pattern catching the flicker of a streetlight. The showcase was five days away, and Kael's decision to play the raw version of Shatterpoint felt like a stone in his chest—solid, but heavy. He'd told Lex his choice that morning, and the producer's silence had been louder than any argument.
"You sure about this?" Lex had asked, his voice clipped, his eyes searching Kael's face. "Raw's a risk. Scouts might not get it." Kael had nodded, his resolve firm but his stomach churning. Lex hadn't pushed, but the tension lingered, a crack in their rhythm. Juno, overhearing, had clapped Kael on the shoulder, muttering, "Good call, rookie. Stay you." The words were a lifeline, but they didn't erase the doubt gnawing at Kael's edges.
He pulled out his phone, the screen glowing in the dim alley. A new SoundSphere notification: Shatterpoint had hit five hundred listens, and the comments were a mix of hype and skepticism. One stood out: "Heard you're playing raw at the showcase. Bold. Hope it lands." Kael's throat tightened. The world was watching now, and the weight of their expectations pressed harder than Lex's warnings.
A text from Mira popped up: "Meet me at The Ember tonight? They're doing a pre-showcase open mic. I'm singing. Freaking out." Kael's lips curved into a smile, pride cutting through his unease. He typed back, "Wouldn't miss it. You've got this." He slung his guitar case over his shoulder and headed toward the club, the city's pulse guiding his steps.
The Ember was alive when he arrived, its neon sign buzzing, the windows fogged with the heat of bodies inside. The air smelled of beer and sweat, the low thrum of a bassline spilling onto the street. Kael slipped through the crowd, the chatter and clink of glasses a chaotic symphony. The stage was small, lit by a single spotlight, a mic stand waiting like a sentinel. Mira stood near the bar, clutching a water bottle, her eyes wide but determined.
"You made it," she said, her voice shaky but bright. She wore a loose sweater, her sketchpad tucked under her arm like a shield. "I'm third up. If I don't puke first."
Kael laughed, nudging her shoulder. "You won't. Just sing like you did in the park. It's just you and the song."
She nodded, but her fingers twisted the bottle's cap. "I keep thinking about my parents. They'd hate this. Said music was a waste." Her voice dropped, and Kael saw the old wounds in her eyes, the ones she'd hinted at over coffee. "But then I think about you, going all-in with Shatterpoint. If you can risk it, I can too."
Kael's chest warmed, but before he could respond, the emcee called Mira's name. She froze, then squared her shoulders and headed to the stage. Kael found a spot near the front, the crowd's energy buzzing around him. Mira stepped into the spotlight, her voice trembling as she introduced Flicker. The first notes were tentative, but as she hit the chorus, her voice opened up, raw and aching, filling the room with a longing that silenced the chatter. Kael's skin prickled, the sound like a brushstroke of deep blue across a stormy sky.
When she finished, the crowd erupted, clapping and whistling. Mira stepped off the stage, her face flushed, and Kael pulled her into a hug. "Told you," he said, grinning. "You were incredible."
She laughed, breathless. "I didn't die. That's a win." But her eyes shone with something new—confidence, fragile but growing. "Your turn's coming, Kael. Don't let Lex mess with your head."
He nodded, the weight of his choice settling deeper. They stayed for a few more acts, but Kael's mind kept drifting to Shatterpoint, to Veyl's heart on SoundSphere, to the stage that awaited him. He slipped out early, needing air, needing clarity.
The city was quieter now, the streets slick with fresh rain. Kael walked, his guitar case a steady weight, the neon signs reflecting in puddles like shattered stars. He thought of Juno's past, Mira's courage, his mom's quiet fears. Music wasn't just sound—it was a fight, a choice to be seen, to be true. Lex wanted him to play it safe, to chase a deal, but Kael wasn't sure he wanted a deal if it meant losing himself.
He stopped at a park bench, the same one where he'd played with Mira weeks ago. The fountain was dark now, its ripples gone, but the memory of her voice lingered. He opened his guitar case, the strap's stars glinting, and played Shatterpoint under the streetlights. The chords were raw, his voice a quiet roar, the lyrics a map of his scars. In his mind, the sound was a flare of crimson and gold, cutting through the city's shadows. This was his truth, and he'd carry it to The Ember, no matter the cost.
His phone buzzed—a message from Lex: "Heard you're sticking with raw. Respect, but it's your call. Don't regret it." Kael stared, the words both a warning and a release. He didn't reply. Instead, he played the new verse he'd written, the one about carving truth from stone. It felt like a vow.
Back home, his mom was asleep, but a light was on in the kitchen. A new note sat on the counter: "Saw your song online. It's beautiful. I'm so proud." Kael's eyes stung. She'd found Shatterpoint on SoundSphere, heard his voice. The note was small, but it was everything—a bridge across the silence he'd kept.
He sat on his bed, guitar in his lap, the city's hum a soft undertone. The Ember's stage was close now, Veyl's shadow closer. Kael didn't know if he'd soar or crash, but he knew one thing: he'd play his truth, raw and unfiltered, and let the world hear it. The fight wasn't just for a showcase—it was for the artist he was becoming, one note at a time.
To be continued…
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