Ghost Notes-Chapter 104: The Light of Creation
Chapter 104 - The Light of Creation
Chapter 104: The Light of Creation
Kael leaned against a scratched wooden table in the Dawnridge studio, the early evening light filtering through a narrow window, casting a warm glow across the cluttered room filled with cables, mics, and the faint hum of amplifiers. The air carried the scent of worn leather and brewing tea. His guitar rested in its open case nearby, the leather strap's stars catching the light, a tether to his mom's pride. The Hearth's embers still glowed—Shatterpoint at eighty-four thousand listens, Flicker nearing seventy-three thousand, Song of Beginnings taking root alongside Fire Eternal with The Hearth stream at seventy-five thousand views—but the tour was behind them, its fire now fueling their first studio album. Their love—named and radiant—pulsed like a shared heartbeat, with Mira's parents sending a care package of homemade cookies and a supportive note, their pride a steady light, and Lex's studio sessions now a daily rhythm.
Mira sat cross-legged on a faded couch across from him, her borrowed guitar cradled, her scarf draped over the armrest. Her sketchpad lay open beside her, a new drawing—a city rooftop at dawn, two figures playing guitars, fireflies circling their music. Her face was alight with creative fire, the freedom of her parents' support and the studio's possibilities sparking her soul. "We laid down Song of Beginnings today, Kael," she said, her voice soft, strumming a quiet chord. "It's alive, raw, ours. My parents sent cookies, said they're streaming our tracks. They're really with us now." Her hand reached for 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 crossed to the couch, sitting beside her, their shoulders brushing, his voice warm but fierce. "They're with us because you lit the way, Mira. Fireflies, Song of Beginnings—that's our creation, our truth. This album's gonna be us, together." Their love burned steady, a rhythm that felt like home. "What's next for it, love?"
Mira's breath was soft, her eyes gleaming with dreams, her grin radiant. "More of us," she said, her voice a vow, leaning closer. "I'm twenty, Kael, and I want this—our album, our love, our fire. Maybe a track about this moment, building something new." 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—distant traffic, rain, a faint busker's riff—fading. Kael thought of Veyl's Broken Signal, its call to hold truth, and Juno's text from earlier: "Studio's your spark. Light the world." His mom's faith, Juno's hope, their love burned bright. "Mira," he said, his voice soft, "let's write that moment—our love, our now. A song for creation." ƒгeeweɓn૦vel.com
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 grabbed their notebook, flipping past Song of Beginnings, and started a new song: Light of Creation. Kael scribbled lyrics, his handwriting messy but sure:
"In the quiet, we build, with a spark in our souls / Crafting light from the fire that makes us whole..."
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 dawn rooftops, a new Chapter of love.
Mira's phone buzzed—a text from Lex: "Beginnings is gold. Studio's open all week—your vibe. New tour ideas?" She showed Kael, her grin fierce. "We'll keep writing," she said. "Light of Creation, Fire Eternal—we'll shape 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. 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 light of creation."
Kael's phone buzzed—a text from his mom: "Hearth was magic. You're my soul, Kael." The studio hummed—amps buzzing, a faint chord lingering, a breeze through the window. Juno poked his head in, his leather jacket creased, his grin warm. "You rookies are crafting something," he said, his voice gruff. "Light of Creation—that's your truth. 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 down the hall. The studio stirred—keys clicking, a distant laugh, a bird's call outside. Mira stood, pulling Kael up, her grin defiant, her eyes warm. "Let's play," she said. "I need Dawnridge's fire." They grabbed their guitars, chords ringing as they tested Light of Creation, 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 recording," she said, her voice soft but sure. "We're building our forever." Kael nodded, the tape and her touch heavy with meaning, Dawnridge's light carrying them forward, their love glowing in the light of creation.
To be continued...
