The courtyard shimmered under the light of twin moons, casting soft silver hues across the cobbled path where Lyra stood, clutching the smooth envelope with trembling fingers.
The headmistress's words still rang in her ears, heavy like thunder behind a velvet curtain.
"You have seven days to form your band. Without it, the Resonance cannot take root. And without Resonance… you will be erased."
Erased.
The word didn't feel dramatic. Not here. Not in a school built on music from multiple universes, where songs shaped reality and chords had mass. Here, the impossible was daily routine—and so was vanishing for those who couldn't harmonize.
Lyra sat on a stone bench beneath a willow that sang when the wind touched its leaves. Notes fell like petals. She let her hand glide through one.
"I just got here," she whispered.
Her AI, VIVA, flickered to life beside her shoulder, still in the form of a soft-hued woman made of shifting notes and starlight strands. "You did. And you'll stay."
Lyra tilted her head toward her companion. "You sound confident."
"I am confident," VIVA said gently. "I've already scanned every available student on campus, including the Undeclared, the Rejected, and the Aloof."
"Those sound… like categories I shouldn't be excited about."
"It's day one, and most strong players have already formed bands in the entrance cycle," VIVA explained. "What's left is—eccentric. Or volatile. Or burdened."
Lyra grimaced. "Like me?"
VIVA paused. "Like us."
That made Lyra smile, albeit weakly. The comfort didn't last long.
A bell chimed in the air—a melody of cello and synth—and the path ahead lit with golden symbols. Her student schedule materialized midair. Exploration Period was the first block. A polite way of saying "Get moving or get out."
VIVA spoke again, a softer hum now. "I've arranged paths to intercept key individuals today. I'll feed you the data as you go, and I've color-coded your compatibility scores."
"Color-coded?"
"Green: strong synergy. Yellow: unstable potential. Red: do not engage unless you want a drama plotline."
Lyra laughed. For the first time that day, it didn't feel forced.
"Alright," she said. "Let's start scouting."
The university was unlike anything she could've imagined. Floating pianos that transported students between stages. Talking murals that judged your posture. Libraries that only let you read if you hummed the right tone. And in the middle of it all—students. So many of them. Each radiating sound like an aura. No two the same.
Some wore elaborate uniforms, shimmering with rank and theme. Others strutted in chaos: gothic violists, neon-haired screamers, masked DJs, violin twins who moved in mirror-perfect choreography.
All of them already had their bands. Their people.
And Lyra… had none.
She took a breath. Then another.
VIVA's voice sparked softly in her mind. "Your first potential match is approaching."
She turned, eyes scanning.
From the top of a descending escalator made of stacked guitar necks, a boy stepped off with effortless confidence. He wore ripped pants, an open shirt that glowed faintly with heartbeat-reactive LEDs, and a keytar strapped across his back like a sword. His aura pulsed violet and red—warm, chaotic energy.
"Kael," VIVA supplied. "Genre: Synth-pop & electronic grunge fusion. Compatibility: 78%. He's dramatic. Prone to spontaneous song battles. Plays backup melody but has lead presence. Unattached. Recently expelled from his previous band for... emotional theatrics."
Lyra winced. "Sounds spicy."
"He also writes his own breakdowns and composes bridge harmonies mid-performance."
She stood straighter.
Kael glanced her way. Then he froze.
"Wait. You're the girl who sang on the Empty Stage."
The words traveled fast, startling a few bystanders.
Lyra hesitated. "Yes?"
A grin broke across his face like thunder through glass. "That was raw. You didn't even hide your heartbreak. I felt it through three closed doors and a soundproof barrier."
She blinked. "You were… listening?"
"No, I was feeling. There's a difference." He pointed at her like she was a missing chord. "You're looking for a band, right?"
Lyra looked at VIVA. The AI gave a faint shrug of approval.
"Maybe," she said cautiously.
Kael grinned. "Cool. Call me if you want chaos." And just like that, he strode off into a hallway of light shaped like a waveform.
Lyra exhaled. "What just happened?"
"First prospect. Confident. Not a terrible option."
"Alright. Who's next?"
"Follow the string solo."
Lyra turned and found herself walking toward the distant echo of violin notes—clean, precise, yet… aching.
They came from a girl seated alone on a moon-shaped balcony, bow dancing across strings like she wasn't even aware of time passing. Her school coat was too big for her frame, and her eyes never looked up.
VIVA whispered, "Name: Elowen. Style: classical drift. 94% compatibility. She doesn't speak much. She plays even less. But when she does, the teachers cry."
Lyra swallowed. "Why's she not in a band?"
"She doesn't trust anyone."
The music stopped. Elowen looked up, eyes locking with Lyra's. For one second—just one—it felt like being pierced by her own memories. Her own ache. Her own betrayal.
Lyra stepped closer. "That's beautiful."
Elowen didn't respond. She tilted her head.
Lyra tried again. "I'm forming a band. I'd love—"
"No." Elowen turned away.
The rejection sliced cleaner than expected. VIVA chimed, "Don't take it personally. She only joins after hearing someone perform three times."
"Three?" Lyra blinked. "Why three?"
"She says a person's truth doesn't fit into a single song."
Lyra stood in silence for a while, then nodded. "Fair."
And so the day continued.
She met a drummer who played like thunder but only communicated in sign. A bassist who claimed to be from a punk dimension ruled by cats. A backup singer who spoke in rhymes and introduced herself as "The Echo of a Dream." Every encounter a sliver of possibility.
Each one inching her closer to something real.
By sunset, her legs ached and her heart weighed heavy with names, faces, hopes. Still no band.
But she had notes now. Faces who didn't reject her outright. Glances that lingered a little too long. And above all, possibility.
VIVA hummed softly as she walked back to her dorm. "You did well. I've refined our shortlist. Tomorrow, we try again."
Lyra smiled, exhausted but not broken. "How many do I need to avoid being erased?"
"Three minimum. Five optimal."
"And I have seven days?"
VIVA's eyes gleamed. "Six now."
Lyra looked up at the starlit dome of the University.
Tomorrow, she'd try again.
And the next day after that.
Because this time, she wasn't alone. And she wasn't going to disappear quietly.
Not anymore.
END OF CHAPTER 4