Ghost Notes-Chapter 67: The Spark Before the Flame
Chapter 67 - The Spark Before the Flame
Chapter 67: The Spark Before the Flame
Kael sat in the cramped booth of SoundVibe Podcast's studio, the city's late morning light filtering through a frosted window, mingling with the scent of warm cables and fresh coffee. His guitar rested across his knees, the leather strap's stars catching the glow of a desk lamp, a tether to his mom's pride. The Ember's fire still glowed—Shatterpoint at forty-seven thousand listens, Flicker nearing thirty-six thousand, the stream at thirty-five thousand views—but today's pre-tour podcast, Lex's latest lead, was a spark for their five-city tour starting in two weeks. Fire That Stays, their river-lit vow, hummed in Kael's mind, a firefly-forged promise against the weight of expectation.
Mira sat beside him, her borrowed guitar cradled, her scarf loosely knotted, her eyes a mix of fire and nerves. Her sketchpad was in her bag, but Kael knew the neon bridge with flames was alive in her thoughts, a symbol of their enduring light. "This tour's bigger," she said, adjusting her mic, her voice low. "Five cities, new crowds. My parents are coming to the first show, and I want them to feel Fire That Stays, but I'm scared they'll still see 'risky.'" Her parents' latest pamphlet, slipped under her door yesterday, lingered like a fault line.
Kael nodded, his pulse steady despite the knot in his chest. "They'll feel you, Mira. Fireflies, Fire That Stays—that's you, not their pamphlets. This podcast, the tour—it's your flame, not their plans." He thought of Veyl's Broken Signal, its call to hold truth, and Juno's text from this morning: "Podcast's your fuse. Light the tour." His dad's Blue Shift tape, tucked in his pocket, was a quiet strength, its chords a reminder of what he'd chosen to keep.
The host, the same lanky guy from their first SoundVibe session, leaned in from the control booth. "Kael, Mira, live in ten. City's buzzing for your tour—give us the spark." Lex stood in the corner, his notebook closed, his nod quiet but sure, their truce solid after The Ember.
Mira's grin was shaky but fierce. "No choking," she whispered, echoing their stage vow.
"No choking," Kael said, his hand brushing hers, the spark between them—friendship, something more—a steady rhythm. The light blinked on, and the host's voice crackled through.
"SoundVibe here, with Kael and Mira, the city's raw flame, ready for a five-city tour. Tell us about this fire you're carrying."
Kael leaned into the mic, its metal cool. "We're Kael and Mira," he said, his voice clear. "Guitars, voices, truth. Shatterpoint's about breaking through, Fire That Stays's about holding the flame, no matter the road. The tour's our next blaze, raw and real."
Mira nodded, her voice steady. "It's about staying true, even when it's heavy. Fireflies, Road Ahead—they're us, fighting doubt, fighting noise. The tour's for the city, for dreamers, for us." Her eyes met Kael's, a spark flaring, her fear buried under fire.
The host grinned. "Let's hear Shatterpoint."
Kael strummed, the chord raw and piercing, painting crimson and violet in his mind. His voice followed, rough but alive:
"I'm running blind, I'm breaking glass / Tearing through what doesn't last..."
Mira's harmony wove in, fierce and clear, their voices tangling like city rain. The booth shrank to their sound, no crowd but the city's ears—commuters, dreamers, baristas—listening. Kael leaned into the flaws—his voice cracking, the strings buzzing—each imperfection a spark.
They shifted to Fire That Stays, Kael leading, his chords soaring:
"We're the fire that stays, burning through the dark / Holding tight to the truth, to the spark..."
Mira's harmony soared, tender but fierce, their voices a vow against her parents' leash, the world's pull. The host nodded, eyes wide, and Kael felt the city's pulse—neon, rain, a busker's riff—in every note.
The session ended, the host clapping. "That's a blaze," he said. "The tour's gonna light up." Lex gave a quiet thumbs-up, his respect clear.
Outside, the city was alive, noon sun glinting off wet pavement, a street violin's hum weaving through the noise. Mira's grin was wide, her shadow lighter. "We lit the fuse," she said, her voice thick. "I felt it, Kael—the city's ready."
"Yeah," Kael said, his heart full. But her parents' pamphlets loomed, a fault line he feared might crack. "You okay for the tour? Your parents..."
Mira's grin faltered, but her eyes were fierce. "They're coming, but I'm not theirs to pull. Fire That Stays is my truth. I'm burning." She grabbed his hand, her grip steady, the spark flaring. "Together?"
"Always," Kael said, his fingers lacing with hers, the touch a vow. His phone buzzed—a SoundSphere comment on the podcast clip, already posted: "You're our fire, our spark. Tour's yours." Anonymous, maybe Veyl, maybe the city. He showed Mira, who laughed, her scarf catching the breeze.
"That's us," she said, her voice a vow. "The spark before the flame."
Kael tucked his dad's tape deeper, its ghost a quiet ally. The tour loomed, Mira's parents closer, but Fire That Stays was their promise, raw and unbroken, ready to light the road.
To be continued...
