Golden Melody (Editing)

Chapter 92

Chapter 92 – Talent Night

Wayne Academy Silver Island Field Trip – Day 5

After the emotional group hug, they lay there for a while—letting the silence settle over them like a comforting blanket.
But time, as always, kept moving.

Soon, the room was alive again.

Bags unzipped. Pajamas traded for coordinated outfits. Hairbrushes passed hand to hand. Lip balm shared without shame.

At the Silvery Water Park, the stage was coming alive—lights blinking, water fountains pulsing in synchronized tests, and a small but eager crowd already gathering.

Miexha sat cross-legged on the carpet, a pen in one hand, a folded sheet of lyrics in the other.

She wasn’t performing tonight.
Section 8 had been disqualified.

But she didn’t sulk.
Didn’t complain.

Instead—she helped.

And she was brilliant at it.

“Start with breath, not with volume,” Miexha instructed, pointing at Jayson and Asha.
“And Thyron—no, don’t growl! You're not summoning demons!”

Laughter erupted. Even Thyron cracked a grin.

Zatariel watched from behind a mic stand, arms crossed and a soft smile playing on his lips.
She moved effortlessly—from soprano to bass, correcting posture and pitch with sharp precision and gentle humor.

Even the tone-deaf kids were sounding… decent.

Maybe it was fear.
Maybe it was the Miexha Effect.

“You know,” Zatariel said during a break, walking over to her,
“if you ever wanted to be a music coach or choir director… I’d back you. A hundred percent.”

Miexha chuckled, shaking her head.

“Thanks… but that’s too small.”

Zatariel blinked. “Too small?”

Her smile was gentle, but her eyes? Fire.

“I dream of something impossible… or at least it feels that way.
I want to be a singer the whole world knows.”

She stood slowly, facing the mirror beside the vanity.

“Not known for my family name. Not because people pity me.
I want them to love my voice. My music. Me.”

Zatariel stared. She was glowing—and not just in the metaphorical sense.

Jayson approached, adjusting his tie, slightly off-center as usual.

“If I ever reach legal age and gain the power to grant wishes,” he said with a smile, “yours is the first I’ll make real.”

“Same here,” Zatariel added quickly, pressing a hand to his heart. “Front row. Every concert.”

From behind a stack of props, Asha popped out, adjusting her sparkly headband.

“Well, obviously, I’m her manager. World tour by seventeen or bust.”

Laughter swept the room again.
Even Section 1 students who’d come to rehearse were smiling, some flashing Miexha a thumbs up.

And for one brief moment—it didn’t matter that she wasn’t on stage tonight.

She was already shining.

Not as a shadow in someone else’s spotlight—but as the light itself.

The speakers crackled overhead.