Arin stepped into the crypt, his breath shallow, his hands trembling. He wasn't searching for something specific—just something. Anything that could keep his family from becoming casualties of war.
Then he saw it.
A stone tablet, its surface etched with symbols from a language long forgotten by the world—but not by him. It was his family's tongue, a sacred script passed down through generations. His pulse quickened. This was it. The answer to his powerlessness.
Grief and rage twisted inside him as he seized the tablet.
Then the crypt began to tremble. The walls cracked, dust rained from the ceiling. He bolted, sprinting through the collapsing ruins, lungs burning, feet pounding against the stone.
But when he reached them—
His wife lay in a pool of blood, her breath ragged, her life slipping away. His son—his only son—was already gone, his his body limp, his blood soaking the earth.
A wretched cry tore from his throat.
***
You ever feel like the universe is playing a cruel joke? Like no matter what you do, no matter how hard you fight, the ending is already written?
That's how it feels. Every. Single. Time.
Levi has always been my best friend—my anchor in the storm. I met him on my first day here. He was already someone—popular, charming, untouchable. And yeah… he's handsome. I don't even like dudes, and I know that.
We just fit. No walls, no lies, no pretending. Just two people who understood each other without trying. No wonder we ended up in the same band. It almost feels fated.
But fate has never been kind to me.
Because somewhere out there, Echomaker is waiting. I haven't seen him since that night, but I know he's watching. A shadow, lingering at the edge of my story, waiting to turn the page.
They say darkness follows the cursed. That it hunts them, breaks them, devours everything they love.
And Levi? He doesn't deserve to be caught in the storm that follows me.
Because I've cared about people before.
And we all know how that ended.
"Lyra! Hey, L! You alright?"
Levi's voice pulled me back, his hand resting lightly on my back. He had that usual smile, but his eyes searched mine.
"The song ended a while ago. You can stop playing now. You sure you're okay? "
I exhaled. "Yeah, I'm fine."
A whisper. Then another.
"What a weirdo."
I barely registered it before the air shifted—thick, heavy, suffocating.
Levi turned, slow and deliberate, his gaze locking onto them. His eyes gleamed with something dark, something ancient. "What did you say?"
The room felt smaller. Tighter. The others stiffened, their bodies frozen like prey in a predator's sights.
I sighed, shaking my head. "Hey! Who brought in the Normies?"
None of them moved. None of them could.
"This shit is real weak," I muttered.
Levi straight up folded their asses. I'm pretty sure one of them peed their pants.
Pathetic.
***
🎵🎵 We're in it, so we live it—if we can't win it, then fuck it! 🎵🎵
🎵🎵 Pi pi pon pon, so everybody dance now! 🎵🎵
"Damn, Spencer, you're on fire, bruh!" Alex said, eyes wide with amazement.
Whoa, whoa, whoa—hold your fucking horses!! You're confusing the readers.
Sorry about that, guys. You're probably wondering—who the fuck is Alex? How did we get here? And WHAT EXACTLY IS HAPPENING??
I mean… can you imagine this guy? Alex! Dropping names like we've all been on the same page since chapter one. Unbelievable.
Anyway, my bad. You're probably not familiar with the dynamics of this whole thing. Don't worry—I'll catch you up as we go.
Alright, class is in session. Pay attention, 'cause I'm only saying this once.
There are three kinds of people in this world.
One! The Blessed—holy, righteous, kissed by the gods themselves. Their music is a divine tribute to the blah blah blah blah. Boring mothefuckers
Two! The Cursed—born of demons, damned from the start. They trade their souls for insane amounts of vibes, but there's a price. A slow, agonizing death. Bit by bit, their life drains away until there's nothing left. Just like my parents... Hmm.
So, this "school"—yeah, it's not your typical academy. It's basically a factory, training young Cursed for responsibilities. You know, stuff like tours, performances, keeping the whole "legendary doomed musicians" thing alive. Not like we're gonna live long enough to enjoy the fame anyway.
Now, Band-In Day—that was a big event. The day we "graduated" and got thrown into assigned bands. From there? Straight to the real world, to tour, perform, and burn out like every Cursed before us.
Oh shit, I can't wait!
Not for Band-In Day—that's just another fancy way of saying "Congratulations, you're officially doomed!" Nah, fuck that. And plus, it already passed. What I really can't wait for is my first tour. The music, the fight, the Vibes pulsing through my veins—that's what I live for.
…Except for Techno and Country. Those guys get a free pass—one or two-man bands, solo or duo tours. No group drama, no shared spotlight. Ka ko i i (I speak a little Japanese. Guess where I got that from). And there are other bullshit lil classes of music that rent really dominant, like yodelling.. you believe that?
Now back to Alex
"Dude, you're on fire! And you're still just an echoist?" Alex whistled, watching Spencer work his magic on the decks. "You're DJing the party tonight, right?"
Spencer shrugged, still tweaking the beat. "I don't know, man... not everyone fucks with techno."
"Nah, that's bullshit," Alex shot back. "Techno's just a fancy way of saying 'mixture,' right? Just mix it up. You'll be fire." He leaned against the table, smirking. "Besides, we're all cursed. We should be able to handle it."
"You know what? You're right!" Spencer grinned, cranking up the volume. "This party's gonna be lit. Dem hos gon' be waiting for me. I'ma smash." He wiggled his eyebrows, his voice dripping with that signature perv energy.
"Gyatt, that's what I'm talking about, little dude!" Alex clapped him on the back. "Now, come on, let's go get drunk for the party!"
***
"Guys, this party has to be perfect! The drinks, the gummies, the pills… everything!" Goldie declared, her voice rising and falling like a melody, commanding the attention of the volunteers.
"Yes, ma'am!" they chorused, hyped and ready.
"Good! Now get to work! Lilo and Stitch—or whatever you two are—split up! You're not a couple when you're working!" She clapped her hands. "Lilo, handle the decor. Stitch, go drag Spencer's ass here—he's late. Michael, go pick up the drinks and gummies. Wait what? Whatever"
Then she turned to Elodie, lowering her voice just a bit. "And you… I've got a special mission for you." She smirked. "I need you in Lyra's stash. Grab some pills for the VIPs."
Elodie hesitated. "But—"
"Shhh. I don't care how you do it," Goldie cut in. "She's your girlfriend. Figure it out."
"And where the fuck is Michelle?! She's supposed to handle the gummies and drinks! Now I gotta rely on some dude named Michael—who the hell even is that?!" she ranted, throwing her hands in the air.
"Damn, Goldie, chill!" Elodie said, raising her hands in defense.
"Shut up and go get the damn pills," Goldie snapped, cutting her off before she could say another word.
***
Camille tensed. Like, what the fuck? You were asked to supervise us, not get involved. Why the fuck do you have to get involved, mf?
Behind her, Michelle was already drenched in sweat, gripping her bow. Her perfect hair was still somehow flawless. (Okay, I don't know if it's a wig, but no one has hair that good.)
With the same thought lingering in her head, Michelle groaned. "Alright, that's it! I give up. I gotta get to the party—Goldie's probably freaking out right now. I'm sorry, Camille, I know you really wanted to beat this guy," she said. Then, turning to the rest of the band, she threw in a quick, "Sorry, band."
Camille let out a relieved sigh. "Ehh, it's okay. Actually, I didn't—"
"Alright, bye! Come on, Camille, let's go!" Michelle cut in, already dragging her away before she could finish.
***
Levi, Lyra, and Elodie stumbled into the party, completely wasted. Levi was grinning lazily, Lyra's arm was draped over his shoulder, and Elodie was barely holding herself together.
Goldie spotted them instantly, hands on her hips. "Elodie, you get the pills?"
Elodie smirked, swaying slightly. "Positive."
Goldie nodded in approval just as Michelle and Camille arrived. Michelle, absolutely buzzing with excitement, raised a bag in the air. "Who's ready for some gummies?!"
The whole group erupted in cheers.
The music blasted, lights flashed, and the party was in full swing. Whatever shit they were dealing with could wait—tonight, they were just here to have fun.
"You rock, Spencer!! I don't even like techno, but I know good shit when I hear it, and this? This is some damn good shit. Just like those gummies—Goldie, pass me another one!" Camille cheered.
The whole group turned, stunned. Camille? Speaking? In public?
"Don't tell me you gave her the gummies," Levi said, eyeing Michelle.
"What can I say? Girl's got a hidden talent for this life—I just helped her unlock it," Michelle smirked. Then, she turned to Levi, pressing her chest against his arm. "Why don't you try one too?"
He barely glanced at her. "Too close, dude." His voice was effortlessly cool, dripping with steeze.
"Ah! Gay!" she teased.
"We're not hooking up, Michelle" Levi deadpanned.
"Aww, fuck! Well, worth a shot," Michelle shrugged, grinning.
That shit was so funny, she gets rejected every single time. This just turned out to be my happiest night. Wasted. At a party. With my guys. Best. Night. Ever.
The bass was hitting just right, the drinks were flowing, and for once, nothing else mattered. Just vibes, laughter, and the kind of memories that stick even when the hangover doesn't.
Then—just as Spencer's about to drop another banger—the music cuts. Silence crashed over the party like a bad omen. What the fuuuuuuuu?
At the entrance, bathed in the flashing lights, stands our harmonic.
"Lyra Feldman. Levi Michaelson. Javi James. Ralph Gilbert," his voice slices through the air. "Go freshen up. Your first tour just came in. We leave at dawn."
Awn fuck!
Worst. Night. Ever.