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... rusted lamppost outside The Wick in Crestfall, the city's midnight air cool against his sweat-damp skin, carrying the scent of wet cobblestones and distant woodsmoke. His guitar case rested at his feet, the leather strap's stars glinting under the lamppost's flicker, a tether to his mom's pride. The tour's opening blaze still roared—Shatterpoint, Flicker, Fireflies, Weight of Wings, Fire That Stays—their raw truth igniting the stage, the crowd's chants a pulse that lingered like a heartbeat. Sha ...

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