Chapter 25: Sparks in the Sparrow
Kael stood in the dim corner of The Sparrow, a cozy dive bar tucked in the city's heart, its walls plastered with peeling gig flyers and fairy lights. The air was thick with the scent of cheap beer and cedar, the low hum of chatter mixing with the clink of glasses. His guitar hung from the leather strap, its stars glinting faintly, a quiet tether to his mom's faith. The open mic was in full swing, a poet on stage weaving words about lost summers, the crowd nodding along. Kael's pulse raced, Shatterpoint and Iron Vein's Dust Road ready in his fingers, The Drift's gig now three weeks away.
Mira stood beside him, her borrowed guitar slung low, her eyes bright with nerves and fire. Her scarf was gone, her hair loose, and her sketchpad was tucked into her bag, a new confidence in her stance. "This place feels alive," she whispered, her voice a mix of awe and jitters. "Think they'll get us?"
Kael nodded, scanning the crowd—artists, students, a few grizzled regulars, all drawn to The Sparrow's raw vibe. "Yeah. They're here for real. Like us." He thought of Juno's USB drive, its contacts leading them here, and Veyl's shadow, their like on Shatterpoint a silent cheer. Shatterpoint was at six thousand listens, Flicker nearing fifteen hundred, but tonight wasn't about numbers—it was about proving they could carry their truth beyond The Ember.
Lex had shown up, uninvited, leaning against the bar with a notebook, his expression a mix of curiosity and control. He'd pushed for promo—posters, SoundSphere teasers—but Kael and Mira had kept it minimal, wanting the music to speak. Juno was absent, his text earlier blunt: "Kill it, rookies. I'm watching." Kael felt his faith like a steady drumbeat.
The emcee, a lanky guy with a nose ring, called their names. Mira grabbed Kael's hand, her grip tight. "No choking," she said, half-laughing, half-pleading.
"No choking," Kael echoed, squeezing back. They stepped onto the small stage, the fairy lights casting a warm glow, like Mira's firefly sketch come to life. The crowd quieted, eyes curious, some phones already up, recording.
Kael adjusted the mic, its metal cool. "I'm Kael, this is Mira. This is Shatterpoint." He strummed the first chord, raw and sharp, the notes painting crimson streaks in his mind. His voice joined, rough but fierce, carrying scars and hope:
"I'm running blind, I'm breaking glass / Tearing through what doesn't last…"
Mira's harmony wove in, soft but steady, grounding him. The crowd swayed, a few closing their eyes, drawn into the song's pulse. Kael leaned into the flaws—his voice cracking, the chords jagged—letting them breathe. When the final note faded, the applause was warm, not thunderous like The Ember, but real, like a shared breath.
Mira stepped forward, her voice steady despite her trembling hands. "This is Flicker." Her melody was haunting, her vocals raw, each note a confession of chasing dreams. Kael added soft chords, their sounds blending like city rain. The crowd was rapt, a few wiping eyes, and Kael saw Lex nod, his skepticism softening.
They closed with Dust Road, Juno's song a gritty tribute. Their voices tangled, fierce and unpolished, the fairy lights flickering like fireflies. In Kael's mind, the stage was alive—gold sparks, indigo shadows, the city listening. The crowd erupted, whistling and clapping, phones capturing every second.
Offstage, Mira tackled Kael in a hug, her laugh shaky. "We did it," she whispered, her eyes shining. "That felt… right."
"Yeah," Kael said, his chest full. He glanced at Lex, who approached, his smile cautious but genuine.
"Solid set," Lex said. "Sparrow's crowd loves raw. You're building something." He paused, then added, "But don't ignore the bigger venues. I can get you there, if you let me."
Kael's jaw tightened. "We'll talk," he said, his voice firm. "But it's our sound, Lex. Our rules."
Lex nodded, backing off, but his eyes held a flicker of frustration. Mira nudged Kael, her grin defiant. "Told you. Our path."
A stranger approached—a woman with a shaved head, tattoos curling up her arm. "You're Kael and Mira, right? I run open mics at The Hollow. Heard you tonight. Want a slot next week?" Her card was worn, her smile real.
Kael took it, his pulse quickening. "Yeah, we're in." Mira nodded, her excitement mirroring his.
Back outside, the city was a canvas of neon and mist, a busker's guitar strumming nearby. Kael's phone pinged—a SoundSphere comment on Shatterpoint: "Sparrow set was fire. You're our voice." Anonymous, but it felt like Veyl's echo, or Juno's faith, or the city's heart. He showed Mira, who laughed, her breath visible in the cold.
"We're sparking something," she said, her voice a vow. "Let's keep it burning."
Kael nodded, the card and USB drive heavy in his pocket, the fairy lights still glowing in his mind. The Sparrow was a small victory, but every stage was a step, weaving their truth deeper into the city's song.
To be continued…
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