Ghost Notes-Chapter 44: Lightning in the Wires

Chapter 44: Lightning in the Wires

Kael sat in the cramped booth of SoundVibe Podcast's studio, the city's late afternoon hum muted by foam-lined walls, the air sharp with the scent of warm cables and stale coffee. 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 Anchor's fire still burned—Shatterpoint at twenty-four thousand listens, Flicker nearing thirteen thousand, the stream at thirty thousand views—but today's podcast, Lex's latest lead, was a new stage. Static Sparks, their raw vow for The Static's gig in two weeks, thrummed in his mind, a lightning bolt against the world's noise.

Mira sat beside him, her borrowed guitar cradled, her scarf loosely knotted, her eyes a mix of excitement and nerves. Her sketchpad was in her bag, but Kael knew the lightning-pierced skyline was alive in her thoughts, a symbol of their defiance. "This feels... big," she said, her voice low, adjusting her mic. "No crowd, just voices, but the city's listening." Her parents' softened support after The Anchor lingered, but their college push—a new pamphlet found this morning—cast a shadow.

Kael nodded, his pulse quickening but steady. "We'll make them feel us. Shatterpoint, Hold the Line, raw acoustic. Like The Anchor, but in their ears." He thought of Veyl's Broken Signal, its call to burn bright, and Juno's text from yesterday: "Podcast's a spark. Don't let it flicker." 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, a lanky guy with a faded band tee, leaned in from the control booth. "Kael, Mira, you're live in ten. Talk a bit, then play. City's tuned in." Lex stood in the corner, his notebook closed, his nod quiet but sure, their truce solid after The Anchor.

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.

"Welcome to SoundVibe, where we catch the city's pulse. Kael and Mira, fresh off their Anchor blaze, are here. Tell us—what's your sound?"

Kael leaned into the mic, its metal cool. "Raw," he said, his voice clear. "Just guitars, voices, truth. No polish, no strings. It's us, the city, the fight to stay real."

Mira nodded, her voice steady. "It's about holding on—through doubt, pressure, noise. Shatterpoint, Flicker, Fireflies... they're us, scars and all." Her eyes met Kael's, a spark flaring, her fear buried under fire.

The host grinned. "Love it. Let's hear Shatterpoint."

Kael strummed, the chord raw and sharp, 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 lightning bolt.

They shifted to Hold the Line, Kael leading, his chords jagged:

"We're the line that won't bend, the fire that won't fade / Holding ground in the noise, where our truth's made..."

Mira's harmony soared, defiant, their voices a vow against her parents' leash, Lex's past strings, 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 lightning in the wires," he said. "Static's gonna be electric." Lex gave a quiet thumbs-up, his respect clear.

Outside, the city was alive, dusk glinting off wet streets, a street violin's hum weaving through the noise. Mira's grin was wide, her shadow lighter. "We're reaching them," she said, her voice thick. "I felt it, Kael."

"Yeah," Kael said, his heart full. But her parents' pamphlets loomed, a fault line he feared might crack. "You okay for The Static? Your parents..." free𝑤ebnovel.com

Mira's grin faltered, but her eyes were fierce. "They're coming, but I'm not theirs to pull. Fireflies is me, Kael. I'm holding the line." 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: "You're our spark, our lightning. Static's next." 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. "Lightning in the wires."

Kael tucked his dad's tape deeper, its ghost a quiet ally. The Static loomed, Mira's parents closer, but Static Sparks was their promise, raw and unbroken, ready to light the stage.

To be continued...