Chapter 16: The Night Before
Kael sat on the fire escape outside his bedroom window, the city sprawling below like a canvas of flickering lights and restless sound. The air was sharp with the bite of late autumn, carrying the faint smoke of a street vendor's grill and the distant wail of a siren. His guitar rested beside him, the leather strap coiled like a sleeping snake, its star pattern dulled by the city's glow. The SoundSphere showcase was tomorrow, and Shatterpoint—raw, unyielding—felt like a blade he'd forged but hadn't yet tested. His stomach churned, not just with nerves but with a quiet certainty: this was the edge of something new.
The fire escape creaked under his weight, the metal cold against his palms. He'd spent the day alone, avoiding the studio, needing space to breathe. Lex had texted, offering last-minute tweaks, but Kael had declined, citing a sore throat. It wasn't a lie—his voice was raw from practice—but the truth was deeper. He needed to protect Shatterpoint's heart, to keep it his own before The Ember's spotlight stripped it bare.
His phone buzzed, a message from Mira: "Can't sleep. You holding up?" Kael smiled, typing back, "Barely. You ready for tomorrow?" Her reply came fast: "Hell no. But I'm doing it anyway. Meet me at the diner? Need pancakes to survive this panic." Kael laughed softly, the sound swallowed by the city's hum. He climbed back inside, grabbed his jacket, and headed out, leaving the guitar behind but carrying its weight in his chest.
The diner was a neon-lit relic, its windows steamed from the heat of coffee pots and sizzling griddles. The air inside was thick with the smell of syrup and bacon, the jukebox playing a tinny jazz tune. Mira was in a corner booth, her sketchpad open to a new drawing—a stage bathed in blue light, a figure singing to an unseen crowd. Her eyes were tired but bright, her fingers smudged with charcoal.
"You look like you're plotting a heist," Kael said, sliding into the booth.
Mira smirked, pushing a plate of pancakes toward him. "Might as well be. Singing at The Ember feels like stealing fire." She paused, her smirk softening. "You're really going raw, huh? No backing track, no polish?"
Kael nodded, stealing a bite of pancake. "Yeah. Lex thinks I'm crazy, but it's the only way I know how to do this." He thought of Veyl's Fading Static, its raw pulse, and the heart they'd left on Shatterpoint. "If Veyl's there, I want them to hear me, not some studio version."
Mira's eyes softened, but there was a shadow in them. "You're braver than me. I'm sticking with Flicker, but I keep wondering if it's enough. My parents…" She trailed off, her fingers tightening on her pencil. "They called today. Said they're coming to the showcase. To 'support' me." Her voice dripped with skepticism, and Kael saw the old wounds reopen—their dismissal of her dreams, their pressure to be "practical."
"That's huge," Kael said, leaning forward. "Even if they're skeptical, they're showing up. You get to prove them wrong."
Mira laughed, bitter but hopeful. "Or prove them right if I choke." She met his gaze, her expression raw. "You ever feel like you're fighting ghosts? Like your dad's voice is still in your head, telling you to quit?"
Kael's throat tightened. He thought of his father's sigh, his mom's quiet warnings, the weight of their past choices. "All the time," he said. "But I'm not him. And you're not your parents. We're making our own story."
Mira nodded, her eyes glistening. "Yeah. Let's make it a good one."
They ate in companionable silence, the jukebox switching to a slow blues riff that felt like the city's heartbeat. Kael glanced at Mira's sketch, the blue-lit stage a mirror of his own imagination. "That's The Ember, isn't it?" he asked.
She blushed, closing the pad. "Maybe. I keep seeing it in my head. You, me, that stage. Like it's where we're supposed to be."
Kael's chest warmed, a quiet resolve settling. "Then let's be there. All in."
Back home, the apartment was dark, his mom's shift running late. A new note sat on the counter: "I'll be at your show. Sing loud." Kael's eyes stung, the words a tether to something solid. He sat at his desk, opening his notebook to the mural sketch, now joined by Mira's stage and a new line: The stage is where ghosts go quiet. He didn't know if he'd silence his father's voice, or Lex's doubts, or his own fears, but he'd try.
He opened SoundSphere, the showcase hype flooding the app. A new post from Veyl's account stopped him cold: "Tomorrow, we hear new voices. Show us your truth." The words were simple, but they hit like a chord, resonating with Kael's own vow. Veyl wasn't just a curator—they were a call to arms, daring him to step into the light.
Kael picked up his guitar, the strap's stars glinting in the dim room. He didn't play Shatterpoint—he didn't need to. The song was in him now, woven into his scars and hopes. Instead, he strummed a soft, improvised melody, the notes like fireflies in a dark field. In his mind, the sound was a deep violet, curling around the city's edges, carrying him toward The Ember.
He set the guitar down, the room still humming with the last note. The city outside was a restless symphony—car horns, laughter, a distant drumbeat. Kael closed his eyes, imagining the stage: the mic's cool metal, the crowd's murmur, Veyl's unseen gaze. Tomorrow, he'd stand there, not as a shadow of Veyl or a product for Lex, but as himself—raw, real, ready to be heard.
To be continued…
Exclusive here: https://www.patreon.com/c/VerAbyss