Chapter 15: The Final Rehearsal
Kael stood in the center of his room, the afternoon light filtering through the blinds, casting golden bars across the worn floorboards. His guitar hung from the new leather strap, its star pattern glinting faintly, a quiet reminder of his mom's faith. The SoundSphere showcase was four days away, and Shatterpoint—raw, unpolished, true—felt like an extension of his heartbeat. He'd practiced until his fingers bled, each chord a defiance of Lex's warnings, each lyric a step closer to the artist he wanted to be. But doubt still lingered, a shadow that grew sharper as The Ember's stage loomed.
The apartment was quiet, his mom at work, leaving behind a lingering scent of coffee and a sticky note on the fridge: "You're braver than you know. Love, Mom." Kael's chest warmed, but the warmth carried a pang. She'd heard his song, seen his truth, but could she understand the risk he was taking—betting everything on a sound that might not land?
His phone buzzed, pulling him from his thoughts. A text from Mira: "PulseVibe, 2pm. Final rehearsal before the showcase. Bring your A-game." Kael glanced at the clock—1:15. He grabbed his jacket, slung the guitar case over his shoulder, and headed out, the city's pulse calling him forward.
The streets were alive with autumn's crisp edge, the air smelling of roasted chestnuts from a vendor's cart and the faint ozone of a coming storm. A street performer strummed a banjo near a subway entrance, her voice bright and unpolished, drawing a small crowd. Kael dropped a coin in her case, their eyes meeting for a moment—a shared understanding of what it meant to sing for strangers. He walked on, the banjo's twang echoing in his mind, blending with the city's hum.
PulseVibe Studio was quieter than usual, the receptionist absent, the hallway dim. Kael found Mira in the main rehearsal room, tuning an acoustic guitar she'd borrowed from Juno. Her song, Flicker, was sharper now, its melody honed but still raw, like a wound that hadn't fully healed. Juno lounged on a stool, tapping a rhythm on his drum pad, while Lex leaned against the wall, arms crossed, his expression guarded.
"You're late," Lex said, his tone clipped but not hostile. "We're running your set first, then Mira's. Let's make it count."
Kael nodded, setting up his guitar. The room felt smaller today, the air heavy with unspoken tension. Juno's defense of Kael's raw approach had strained things with Lex, and Mira's presence—her own performance a wildcard—added another layer. Kael adjusted the strap, the leather soft against his shoulder, and faced the mic. "I'm doing Shatterpoint raw," he said, his voice steady. "Just me and the guitar."
Lex's jaw tightened, but he didn't argue. "Your call. Let's hear it."
Kael closed his eyes, the studio fading. He pictured The Ember's stage, the spotlight hot, Veyl's shadow in the crowd. The first chord was a spark, igniting a soundscape in his mind—crimson streaks across a neon-lit city, rain falling in slow motion. His voice joined, rough but fierce:
"I'm running blind, I'm breaking glass / Tearing through what doesn't last / Every scar's a map to show / Where the light begins to grow…"
The new verse came naturally, carved from stone and rust, a vow to hold his truth. His fingers stung, his throat burned, but he poured everything into it—his father's doubts, his mom's quiet pride, Mira's courage, Veyl's haunting echo. When the final chord faded, the room was silent, the air charged.
Mira clapped, her grin wide. "Kael, that's it. That's you." Her voice was bright, but her eyes held a flicker of awe, maybe envy.
Juno nodded, his drumstick still. "Kid's got guts. That's what the stage needs."
Lex exhaled, his expression unreadable. "It's strong," he said finally. "Risky, but strong. If you can hit that at The Ember, you'll turn heads." There was respect in his voice, but also a warning, like he was bracing for Kael to falter.
Mira went next, her performance a quiet fire. Flicker was rawer than Kael's, her voice cracking on the high notes, but it carried a vulnerability that gripped the room. Juno added a soft beat, and Kael strummed a subtle harmony, their sounds weaving together like a conversation. When she finished, Lex clapped slowly, his skepticism softening. "You're a surprise, Mira. Keep that heart in it."
As they packed up, Juno pulled Kael aside, his voice low. "Lex means well, but he's got his own baggage. Pushed a band too hard once, lost 'em to a bad deal. He sees you as redemption, but don't let him steer you." His eyes were serious, carrying the weight of his own scars.
Kael nodded, the words sinking in. "Thanks, Juno. For… everything."
Juno shrugged, a rare smile breaking through. "Just don't choke, rookie."
Outside, the city was slipping into dusk, the sky a deep indigo streaked with clouds. Kael and Mira walked together, their guitar cases bumping. "You think Veyl's really gonna be there?" Mira asked, her voice soft. "Like, watching us?"
Kael thought of Veyl's heart on Shatterpoint, their new track's aching pulse. "Yeah," he said. "And I think they're looking for something real. Not just a show."
Mira nodded, her expression resolute. "Then let's give it to them. No holding back."
They parted ways, and Kael headed home, the city's rhythm a steady drumbeat. At his desk, he opened his notebook, the mural sketch from the alley now joined by Mira's spotlight figure. He wrote a new line beneath it: Truth is the only sound that lasts. The Ember was close, a crucible for his voice, for Mira's, for the artist he was becoming. He didn't know if Veyl would hear him, if the scouts would care, but he knew one thing: he'd step onto that stage and sing like it was his last chance to be seen.
To be continued…