Chapter 19: Ripples of Truth
Kael woke to the soft gray light of morning, the city's hum muted through his bedroom window. His guitar leaned against the wall, the leather strap draped over it like a quiet sentinel. The Ember's spotlight still burned in his mind—Shatterpoint's raw chords, the crowd's roar, his mom's tearful pride. The showcase felt like a dream, but its weight was real, settling into his bones. His phone glowed with notifications—SoundSphere buzzing, texts from Mira, a voicemail from Lex—but Kael lay still, letting the silence hold him a moment longer.
He rolled out of bed, the floor cold under his feet, and found a note on the kitchen counter: "Coffee's made. So proud of you. -Mom." The words warmed him, but they carried a shadow—her unspoken fear, rooted in his dad's lost music. Kael poured a mug, the bitter steam grounding him, and sat at the table, his notebook open to the mural sketch, now joined by a rough outline of The Ember's stage. He traced the lines, wondering what came next.
His phone buzzed again, insistent. A SoundSphere alert: Shatterpoint had hit a thousand listens overnight, the comments a flood of fire emojis and heartfelt notes. One stood out, anonymous: "Your voice is a city waking up. Don't stop." Kael's chest tightened—Veyl's shadow lingered in the words, though he couldn't be sure. Another notification: a new like from Veyl's account, their second on his track. His pulse quickened, the gesture a quiet validation, a dare to keep going.
A text from Mira broke the spell: "Breakfast at the diner? My parents' dinner is tonight and I'm losing it." Kael smiled, typing back, "Be there in 30. You'll survive." He grabbed his jacket, leaving the guitar but carrying its weight in his heart.
The city was crisp, the air sharp with fallen leaves and the sizzle of a food cart's grill. The diner was warm, its jukebox humming a low blues riff, the smell of pancakes and bacon wrapping around Kael as he slid into the booth across from Mira. She looked frazzled, her hair in a messy bun, her sketchpad open to a chaotic swirl of blue and red—her nerves in charcoal.
"You're famous now," she said, pushing a coffee toward him, her grin half-teasing, half-proud. "SoundSphere's exploding. How's it feel?"
Kael shrugged, sipping the coffee. "Weird. Good, but… heavy. Like everyone's waiting for what I do next." He thought of Lex's warning about the scouts, the labels' looming offers. "You're blowing up too, you know. Flicker's getting love."
Mira's grin faded, her fingers tracing her sketch. "Yeah, it's wild. But my parents…" She sighed, her voice softening. "They want to talk about my 'future' tonight. Probably gonna push college again, say music's a phase." Her eyes met his, raw with fear and defiance. "I don't want to go back to hiding, Kael. Not after last night."
Kael leaned forward, his voice firm. "Then don't. You sang your truth up there. They saw it. Keep showing them." He thought of his mom's pride, Juno's gruff faith. "You're not alone in this."
Mira nodded, a small smile breaking through. "Thanks. You're kinda good at this pep-talk thing." She paused, then added, "Lex called me. Said those scouts want to meet us both. You gonna talk to them?"
Kael's stomach twisted. "Maybe," he said, his voice low. "But I'm not signing anything that makes me someone else." He thought of Veyl's rumored rebellion, Juno's scars. "Lex means well, but he's scared I'll miss my shot. I'm more scared of losing myself."
Mira's eyes softened, understanding. "You won't. That stage last night? That was you, Kael. All of you." She reached across, squeezing his hand, her touch a fleeting anchor. "We'll figure it out together, yeah?"
"Yeah," Kael said, his chest warming. Her hand lingered a moment, and he felt the spark of something deeper—friendship teetering toward more—but neither spoke it.
Back home, Kael checked his voicemail. Lex's voice was calm but urgent: "Kael, the labels are serious. Meeting's tomorrow at PulseVibe, 3pm. Bring your game face. And… good job last night. You proved me wrong." Kael exhaled, Lex's praise bittersweet. He opened SoundSphere, scrolling through the Shatterpoint comments. A new one, from Juno: "Told you, rookie. Stay sharp." Kael grinned, Juno's gruff loyalty a steadying force.
He sat at his desk, notebook open, and sketched a new image—a figure under a streetlight, guitar in hand, the city alive around them. Beneath it, he wrote: Truth keeps growing. The showcase had been a beginning, not an end. Labels, scouts, Veyl's shadow—they were ripples from his voice, but the core was his. He thought of Mira's courage, his mom's coffee, the busker's banjo. Music wasn't just his—it was theirs, a thread tying them all.
Kael picked up his guitar, strumming softly, the chords a quiet hum. The city outside sang back—car horns, laughter, a distant drum. Tomorrow's meeting loomed, but Kael wasn't afraid. He'd walk in with Shatterpoint's truth, raw and unbroken, and let the world decide what to do with it.
To be continued…