The day dawned gray over the rooftops of Paris. A thin mist blanketed the city, blurring its buildings as if the world were being repainted by uncertain hands. Arion watched the scene through the hotel window, the guitar resting on his lap and a mug of cold coffee forgotten beside him. He hadn't slept. Since the conversation the night before, his mind hadn't stopped.
The phrase in French, written on the wall in Lisbon, still echoed in his head:"Si la ville change, suis la mélodie."If the city changes, follow the melody.
He repeated it in silence, as if the sound of the words could help him understand what Seraya had meant.
Lior appeared in the doorway, still drowsy, a laptop tucked under his arm and the same exhausted expression from the night before."The show's tonight, right?" he asked, scratching the back of his neck.
"Last one of the tour," Arion replied, eyes still on the window. "After that, just interviews and meetings with the label."
"Finally." Lior dropped into the armchair. "And after that? Are you going home?"
Arion hesitated.The concept of home felt distant."Depends on what you call home," he said.
Lior raised an eyebrow."I mean Eldraen, if you even remember it."
The name sounded like a ghost. Eldraen, the small, forgotten country wedged between mountains and coast, with a tiny town called Kaerel where everything had begun: the band, the dreams… and Seraya.
"I haven't been back since…" Arion began, but his voice faltered.
"Since she disappeared," Lior finished. "I know."
Silence.
"Then why did you have the notebook sent here?" Lior pressed, folding his arms. "You could've waited until we got back."
Arion turned toward him, his gaze feverish."Because I couldn't wait."
"You're afraid time will erase something?" Lior asked.
"I'm afraid time will repeat something."
Lior studied him for a moment, then looked away."My sister's running a bit late. She said she'll send it this afternoon. It should arrive tomorrow."
Arion nodded, a small wave of relief passing through him, though the weight in his chest didn't lessen.
He stood, stretching."I need to get ready for the show."
"You're really going to sing after all this?" Lior asked, surprised.
"It's the last show, Lior. If there's anything still connecting me to her… it'll be through the music."
Lior said nothing. He simply watched as his friend grabbed his guitar and jacket, walking out of the room with steps too steady for someone carrying so much.
The theater where the concert would take place was an old, restored building, all marble columns and gilded details. Outside, fans had gathered since early morning, some holding signs, others singing verses from Arion's most famous songs.
Backstage, the team moved like a swarm. Microphones being tested, lights adjusted, the producer barking orders in three different languages. Arion tried to focus, but something felt off, a strange vibration in the air, as if the walls were breathing with him.
"Everything okay, Arion?" asked Mael, his fast-talking, pragmatic manager.
"It's fine," he lied.
"Remember after this show, the whole world will want to know what's next. A break? A new album?"
He forced a smile."First, silence. Then… we'll see."
Mael nodded, not catching the subtext.
When Arion was finally alone in the dressing room, he opened his guitar case. The strings vibrated under his fingers, but the sound came out strange slightly off, almost dissonant. A note echoed oddly, out of tune. He frowned, plucked another, same result.
For a brief moment, he swore he heard another melody behind his own someone playing in sync, but just a beat behind.
Seraya.
The memory came back sharp and bright: the two of them rehearsing in Kaerel, long before fame, laughing at their mistakes. She would paint while he played, saying that music helped her see the colors that didn't exist.
"Art is only real when it makes the world change shape."
Her words returned like a whisper.
Hours later, the theater was full. The lights dimmed. A sea of voices shouted his name. Arion stepped onto the stage beneath a storm of flashes and applause.
Inside, there was only silence.
The first song began one of the old ones, a ballad he had written before the fame, before the loss. The notes flowed almost by instinct. The audience sang along, and for a few minutes, he forgot everything: the notebook, the murals, the phenomena.
Until something changed.
At the back of the stage, the lights began to flicker. At first, it seemed like a technical glitch. Then, the LED screens showed distortions, blurred images, as if another transmission were trying to break through.
Arion faltered mid-song. The distortions began to form silhouettes human shapes drawn in golden lines, identical to the murals.
The audience, however, didn't react. They kept singing, enraptured, as if nothing were wrong.
Lior, in the crowd, stood abruptly, trying to get the technicians' attention. No one heard him.
Arion kept playing, cold sweat running down his neck. Each note seemed to scrape the air, echoing strangely doubled, warped.
And then, on the main screen, a figure appeared a woman with light hair, half-shadowed, her eyes glowing gold.
Seraya.
Arion stepped back, heart pounding."No…"
The image flickered, and a voice low, almost imperceptible cut through the sound of the guitars:"Follow the melody."
The projection dissolved. The lights returned to normal. The band kept playing, the crowd cheering, as if nothing had happened.
Arion finished the song mechanically, his mind collapsing in on itself.
Backstage, he ran until he found Lior."You saw it?" he asked, breathless.
Lior was pale."I saw it. And no one else seemed to notice."
Arion ran his hands through his hair, trying to piece his thoughts together."This isn't a coincidence, Lior."
"Arion, it happened when you played." Lior swallowed hard. "I don't think it's the city that responds to her. I think she's responding to you."
The singer stared at him, panic mingling with revelation.
And outside, somewhere in the city, a new mural appeared golden strokes shimmering under the streetlights, as if someone were painting it at that very moment.