Chapter 17: The Ember's Light
Kael stood backstage at The Ember, the air thick with the hum of anticipation and the faint tang of spilled beer. The club was alive, its walls vibrating with the crowd's chatter and the low pulse of a soundcheck from the stage. His guitar hung from the leather strap, its star pattern a quiet anchor against his racing heart. The SoundSphere showcase was here, now, and Shatterpoint—raw, unpolished, true—felt like a confession he was about to shout to a room full of strangers. His palms were slick, his throat dry, but beneath the fear was a fire, small but fierce.
The greenroom was cramped, a maze of cables and folding chairs. Other artists milled about—some tuning instruments, others whispering nervously. Mira sat cross-legged on the floor, her borrowed guitar across her lap, her eyes fixed on a crumpled lyric sheet for Flicker. She looked up, catching Kael's gaze, and flashed a shaky grin. "You look like you're about to bolt," she said, her voice light but tight.
Kael managed a half-smile, adjusting the strap. "You're one to talk. You good?"
"Barely," she admitted, her fingers twisting a loose thread on her sweater. "My parents are out there. Feels like they're waiting for me to crash." Her laugh was brittle, but her eyes held a stubborn spark. "But I'm singing anyway. You sticking with raw?"
"Yeah," Kael said, his voice steadier than he felt. "It's all I've got." He thought of Lex's warning, Juno's nod, his mom's note. Veyl's post—"Show us your truth"—echoed in his mind, a dare he couldn't ignore. Somewhere in the crowd, Veyl was watching, their presence a shadow he both chased and feared.
The emcee's voice boomed through the wall, calling the first act. Kael's stomach lurched. Mira stood, squeezing his arm. "We've got this," she said, her touch grounding. "See you out there." She headed for the open-mic lineup, leaving Kael alone with his thoughts.
He paced, the floor sticky under his sneakers, and checked his phone. A text from his mom: "I'm here. Sing from your heart." His chest warmed, the words a lifeline. He pictured her in the crowd, her nurse's scrubs swapped for a rare night out, her eyes carrying the pride she rarely spoke. Another text, from Juno: "Don't choke, rookie. You're enough." Kael's lips twitched, Juno's gruff faith a quiet armor.
The stage manager, a wiry woman with a headset, tapped his shoulder. "You're up in ten. Slot five." Kael nodded, his pulse hammering. He tuned his guitar, the strings singing under his fingers, each note a thread to the city outside—neon alleys, rain-slick streets, the busker's banjo. He closed his eyes, imagining Shatterpoint as a flare of crimson and violet, cutting through the dark.
From the stage, the third act's bassline thumped, the crowd cheering. Kael peeked through the curtain, the room a sea of faces under dim lights. He scanned for Veyl, but the shadows gave nothing away. Lex was near the bar, arms crossed, his expression unreadable. Kael's resolve hardened. This wasn't for Lex, or even Veyl—it was for himself.
Mira's open-mic slot came first. She stepped into the spotlight, her voice trembling through Flicker's opening lines. The crowd quieted, drawn into her raw, aching melody. Kael watched, pride swelling as her voice grew bolder, each note a defiance of her parents' doubts. When she finished, the applause was thunderous, and Kael saw her parents in the crowd, their faces stunned, maybe softened. Mira caught his eye as she stepped off, her grin wide but tear-streaked. "Your turn," she mouthed.
The stage manager waved Kael forward. His legs felt like water, but he walked, guitar in hand, into the spotlight's heat. The crowd hushed, their eyes a weight he could feel. He adjusted the mic, its metal cool, and scanned the room. His mom was near the front, her smile small but radiant. Mira stood by the bar, fist raised in silent cheer. Somewhere, Veyl waited.
"This is Shatterpoint," Kael said, his voice rough but clear. He strummed the first chord, a spark in the silence. The notes unfurled, jagged and alive, painting a cityscape in his mind—crimson flares, indigo shadows. His voice joined, raw and unpolished, carrying every scar:
"I'm running blind, I'm breaking glass / Tearing through what doesn't last…"
His fingers stung, his voice cracked, but he leaned into it, letting the flaws breathe. The crowd swayed, some closing their eyes, others nodding to the rhythm. Kael poured himself into the new verse, carved from stone and rust, a vow to hold his truth. As the final chord rang out, the room erupted, applause crashing like a wave. Kael stood, breathless, the spotlight hot on his skin, feeling more alive than ever.
He stepped off, legs shaking, and Mira tackled him in a hug. "You did it," she whispered, her voice thick. His mom was next, her embrace fierce, her eyes wet. "That was you," she said, and Kael's throat closed, her pride a warmth he'd carry forever.
Lex approached, his smile tight but genuine. "Risk paid off. Scouts are talking." He paused, then added, "I was wrong. You knew what you were doing."
Kael nodded, gratitude mixing with relief. From the crowd's edge, a figure in a hoodie watched—Veyl, maybe, their face obscured. They raised a hand, a subtle nod, then slipped away. Kael's heart raced. It wasn't confirmation, but it was enough.
The night blurred—more acts, more cheers—but Kael felt the shift. He'd stepped into his voice, raw and real, and the world had heard. The Ember's light wasn't just a stage—it was a beginning, and Kael was ready for whatever came next.
To be continued…