Page 182 of Fallen Princess: Shadow Stalker

“How’s the shoulder?” Asher asks, concern evident in his voice as we gather closer to Eden, forming a protective circle around her, our towering figures dwarfing her smaller frame.

“It’s fine. Just a scratch and bruise. But I could do with a shower after this,” she confesses.

“We’ll head straight home after this. I think we can all do with a day off.”

“They’ll be expecting an interview from all five of you.” Flavia’s voice from behind us catches our attention. “I understand you’ve all been through an ordeal,” she adds, her gaze settling on Eden. "How are you holding up?"

“She fucking had to shoot down half a dozen humans to save her life,” Callum barks angrily. “How the fuck do you think she is? Be blessed we agree to this concert. But fuck no to any interviews. Set up a news conference in forty-eight hours. Not a minute sooner.”

Our band manager takes a moment to digest Callum's demand, her expression showing she understands the gravity of the situation. She glances around at all of us, seeing the unity in our stance to Callum’s demand.

“Fine.” she relents, pulling out her tablet and making arrangements. “The car will be arranged to pick you up right after you finish your performance. I’ll instruct your bodyguard and his team. Don’t fucking talk to anyone. I'll set up your press conference, and no one gets to ask you questions before then.”

As the stage manager signals our time has come to get on stage, a surge of adrenaline propels us forward. I grip the strap of my electric guitar slung over my shoulder, ready for action.

We follow him towards the stage area, each step echoing in the corridor, a rhythmic prelude to the crescendo awaiting us.

The moment arrives—a blinding eruption of lights unveils the stage, revealing our silhouettes. A collective gasp sweeps through the arena as if the audience collectively holds its breath, awaiting confirmation that this spectacle isn't a mirage born of nostalgia.

Then, the first chord from Callum resonates—a sonic thunderclap that shatters the silence. I stand poised by the microphone, joining in as soon as I hear the drum beat from Asher.

With a charismatic smile, I lean into the microphone, my gravelly voice cutting through the air:

“In the shadows of our yesterdays,

Where dreams were lost in the haze,”

These lyrics are laced with passion and a narrative that resonates with the shared experiences of my band. The guitar in my hand, an extension of my soul, wailing and soaring in perfect harmony with my vocals against Haze’s rhythm guide and Callum’s base.

I smile at my bandmates and pause on my singing. Within seconds, I hear the first notes of her voice behind me:

“Through the ashes, a whisper calls,

A chance for redemption, as the old world falls.”

As Eden’s powerful vocals enter the stage, a primal scream from the crowds is unleashed, and she smiles at each of us as she continues her verse,

“Against the odds, we stand and fight,

Igniting the flames, we'll reclaim our right.”

Unleashing a powerful refrain, a cathartic explosion that ignites the crowds caught in the euphoria of Eden’s performance becomes a living, breathing entity pulsating with the energy of the music.

This entire arena transforms into a sea of undulating bodies, an ecstatic response to the revival of our old band transforming within moments to our new one. We’re bathed in the kaleidoscope of lights, unleashing an audible thunderstorm that sweeps through the arena, washing away our years of absence.

Eden grips her microphone, immersed in the song, as I shove my guitar behind my back and pull out the mic, kicking the stand away. The crowd goes wild as I join her, my hand reaching out to bring her to the center of the stage, joining her in the chorus as Callum and Haze take either side of us, strumming their electric guitars.

“Battered wings, scars of the past,

Yet in the heart, a fire that'll forever last.

Against the currents, against the tide,

We'll rise again, with nothing to hide.”

We’re no longer singing to the crowd but to each other, the screams are now a roaring sea of ecstatic fans swaying to the rhythm, their hands raised in unison. Faces illuminated by the glow of the stage lights express sheer bliss, a collective surrender to our magic unfolding before them.

Eden takes over the song, her hand caressing my sweaty face and our bodies only inches apart from each other.

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