The spotlight hadn't even turned on, and yet the weight of it already pressed against Lyra's chest.
Backstage, the thrum of anticipation echoed like a distant heartbeat. The grand amphitheater of the University of Resonance pulsed with energy, its massive crystalline dome refracting starlight across the curved stage and ocean of audience seats. Bands bustled in organized chaos, finalizing tuning, whispering mantras, and psyching themselves up. The air was thick with the scent of stage resin, synth oils, and raw, buzzing nerves.
Lyra couldn't breathe.
She sat on the floor in the greenroom, her back against the smooth marble wall, knees drawn up and fingers tangled in her hair. Her hands trembled so fiercely she couldn't even hold the bottle of water Kai had placed beside her.
Her breath came in staccato bursts — shallow, quick gasps that failed to fill her lungs. The room blurred. Not because of tears, but because she wasn't here. She wasn't now. She was back in that classroom, cold eyes staring. Professors shaking their heads. Her voice failing her when she needed it most. The word "cheater" flashing like neon across her life. The silence of friends. The phone that never rang. The door that never opened.
"Lyra."Kai's voice was firm, but low. Controlled.
She couldn't lift her eyes to him. Her throat refused to work.
"I can't—I can't—" she gasped.
Rin dropped to the floor beside her in an instant. "You don't have to say anything. Not yet." Her voice was soft in a way Lyra rarely heard — like thunder choosing to whisper.
Lyra wanted to disappear. She wanted to evaporate under the crushing glare of past shame. What right did she have to sing when the last time she stood on a stage, the world had burned her for it?
"I should've known this would happen," she choked out, her voice barely audible. "I'm broken. They'll see it again. They'll laugh. I'll freeze—what if I forget the lyrics? What if I—what if I mess up and ruin it for everyone?"
Yuu knelt silently beside her. He reached out without a word and placed his hand over hers. Just that. A stillness in the storm. She couldn't look at him either, but she felt the heat of his hand — a quiet, unshakable grounding. He didn't need to say anything. His silence wasn't abandonment. It was presence.
Kai sat down across from her, crossing his arms. "Okay. What if you do mess up?"
Lyra blinked.
He leaned forward, eyes sharp. "What if you forget a lyric? What if your voice cracks? What if you trip walking onstage and Rin crashes her drums and Yuu's synth shorts out and I drop my guitar on someone's foot?"
"...That's not funny," she whispered, lips trembling.
"It's a little funny," Rin offered.
Kai continued. "We've rehearsed the song twenty times. You know it like breathing. But even if you did screw up — so what? We've got your back. Every beat, every verse. You're not alone this time, Lyra."
Rin nodded fiercely. "We're not here to be perfect. We're here to be us. Messy, loud, probably off-tempo at least once — but real."
"Exactly," Kai said. "And you're the one who made this song. You. Not your old teachers. Not those backstabbers you left behind. You built something beautiful out of the pain they gave you."
Yuu opened his phone. He typed something and turned the screen toward her.
Sing for you first. Then sing for us.
That broke her. The last wall inside gave way, and tears spilled over. Not the kind that felt like drowning — but the kind that came when someone pulled you out of the water and held you warm.
Rin pulled her into a hug so fierce it knocked the air from her lungs, but in a good way. Kai leaned in and placed a hand on her head. Yuu rested his forehead lightly against her shoulder.
VIVA flickered into view beside them, hovering like a gentle lantern. "Vitals stabilizing. Emotional stress response detected, but dissipating. Lyra, you are not alone."
"I know," she breathed.
It was still scary. Her hands still trembled. But there was a new thread braided through the fear — a tether wrapped in warmth and rhythm. She wasn't standing alone under the spotlight this time. Her voice wasn't a single echo in the dark. It was the harmony of four people who saw every crack in her and called it music.
Kai helped her stand.
Rin handed her the mic with a grin. "Time to blow the roof off."
Yuu placed a gentle hand on the small of her back as they walked toward the wings of the stage.
As the announcer called, "Band #18 — Soul Sync, performing an original piece titled 'Echo'," the spotlight bloomed like a second sun.
And Lyra stepped forward — not perfect, not fearless, but whole.
END OF CHAPTER 20