Chapter 103: The Song of Beginnings
Kael sat on a creaky wooden stool in a small Dawnridge studio, its walls lined with foam panels and scattered vinyl records, the late morning air warm with the scent of coffee and old electronics. His guitar rested across his knees, the leather strap's stars catching the soft glow of a desk lamp, a tether to his mom's pride. The Hearth's embers still glowed—Shatterpoint at eighty-three thousand listens, Flicker nearing seventy-two thousand, Fire Eternal gaining traction with Road Beyond as The Hearth stream hit seventy thousand views—but the tour was behind them, its fire now fueling a new chapter. Their love—named and radiant—pulsed like a shared heartbeat, with Mira's parents fully supportive, their pride a steady light, and Lex's studio deal signed that morning, marking the start of their next journey.
Mira sat beside him on another stool, her borrowed guitar cradled, her scarf loosely knotted. Her sketchpad lay open on a nearby table, a new drawing—a sunrise over a city skyline, two figures on a rooftop, fireflies circling their hands. Her face was alight with quiet excitement, the freedom of her parents' acceptance and the studio deal sparking new dreams. "We signed it, Kael," she said, her voice soft, strumming a gentle chord. "Lex's deal—our album, our way. My parents called, thrilled, no college talk, just 'make it yours.' It's real now." Her hand found his, fingers lacing tightly, their love flaring softly, grounding her.
Kael's chest warmed, her touch anchoring their shared flame. At twenty-one, he carried his father Elias's Blue Shift tape in his pocket, its chords a bridge from loss to love. He squeezed her hand, his voice warm but fierce. "It's always been real, Mira. Fireflies, Fire Eternal—that's our beginning, our truth. We'll make this album ours, together." Their love burned steady, a rhythm that felt like home. "What's our first song, love?"
Mira's breath was soft, her eyes gleaming with possibility, her grin radiant. "Something new," she said, her voice a vow, leaning closer, their shoulders brushing. "I'm twenty, Kael, and I want this—our album, our love, our fire. Maybe a song about starting, about us." Her gaze held his, fireflies dancing in her eyes, the future a canvas for their shared light.
The studio shrank to their shared warmth, the city's hum—rain, neon, a distant busker's riff—fading. Kael thought of Veyl's Broken Signal, its call to hold truth, and Juno's text from this morning: "Studio's your fire. Sing your truth." His mom's faith, Juno's hope, their love burned bright. "Mira," he said, his voice soft, "let's write our start—our love, our always. A song for beginnings."
Mira's laugh was soft, her eyes wet with joy. "I love you, always," she said, her hand tightening in his, their love a spark. She leaned in, kissing him softly, the touch a vow, their flame glowing brighter in the studio's quiet.
They pulled out their notebook, flipping past Fire Eternal, and began a new song: Song of Beginnings. Kael jotted lyrics, his handwriting messy but sure:
"In the dawn, we rise, with a spark in our hands / Building roads to forever, where our fire stands…"
Mira hummed a melody, her voice tender but fierce, weaving with Kael's imagined chords. The song was raw, a promise of their journey, echoing Juno's Iron Vein and their shared pulse. In their minds, it was fireflies and sunrise roads, a new chapter of love.
Mira's phone buzzed—a text from Lex: "Studio's set. Small tour offers growing—your vibe. Plan soon?" She showed Kael, her grin fierce. "We'll plan," she said. "Song of Beginnings, Fire Eternal—we'll make it ours."
Kael nodded, Lex's trust a steady anchor. Another buzz—a SoundSphere comment on The Hearth stream: "You're our fire, our spark. New album when?" Anonymous, maybe Veyl, maybe the city. He showed Mira, who laughed, adding a firefly to her sketch, its glow fierce.
"That's us," she said, her voice steady, her hand in his. "The song of beginnings."
Kael's phone buzzed—a text from his mom: "Hearth was magic. You're my soul, Kael." The studio hummed—equipment buzzing, a faint guitar riff, a breeze through an open window. Juno appeared at the door, his leather jacket creased, his grin warm. "You rookies are starting something," he said, his voice gruff. "Song of Beginnings—that's your heart. Keep it raw." His eyes lingered, his grin softening.
"We will," Kael said, Mira's hand steady. Mira nodded, her spirit soaring.
Juno clapped their shoulders, then left, his steps fading into the hallway. The studio stirred—keys clacking, a distant laugh, a bird's call outside. Mira stood, pulling Kael up, her grin defiant, her eyes warm. "Let's jam," she said. "I need Dawnridge's fire." They grabbed their guitars, chords ringing as they tested Song of Beginnings, sunlight painting the room gold, a melody threading through the air.
Kael, twenty-one, thought of his dad's tape, its chords a bridge to resilience, and Mira, twenty, her victory over doubt a fire of her own. Their love, their music, their road stretched on. Mira's hand stayed in his, their love a steady pulse. "We're not just writing," she said, her voice soft but sure. "We're singing our always." Kael nodded, the tape and her touch heavy with meaning, Dawnridge's light carrying them forward, their love glowing in the song of beginnings.
To be continued…