season 2 | chapter 02

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IT WAS A calm afternoon

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IT WAS A calm afternoon.

Golden sunrays were streaming through the sealed windows, their glow having lost its strength as the moon was preparing to replace the sun on the sky. The air held a note colder than the previous day, a clear sign of autumn's decisiveness to end its reign and step down for winter.

Lyla couldn't complain. After their first mission that was anything else than calm and easy, she welcomed the brief break before they started to take on requests from The Mission Board with relief. She exploited the time to give a boot to her writing, get assignments done, sleep eight hours and have fun with her friends.

She promised herself she would take advantage of the gap to train more and talk to her mother. As for training, she wasn't going to worry about it and rush. She had covered many of the techniques Kai had demanded them to perfect before their trip to the waterfall, but the latter couldn't wait.

Lyla couldn't avoid the confrontation forever, not when she wanted to help mom think rationally. She was going to bring her to her senses tonight because she had no other choice and staying tight-lipped was out of the question. She cared, so much that it hurt to see her overworking and still smiling like the choices she made were the best for all of them when in reality her health was on the line.

She brought her attention back to the almost full page of her notebook. Lyla was resting her head on her palm. She was twisting her pencil between her fingers, frustrated with her inability to write a final sentence for her most recent chapter.

Melody's adventure with Claude was progressing. They were traveling all over the globe, sneaking into clubs and intruding gatherings of the Elite, adding their own touch with their instrumental music in an era where technology controlled almost every aspect of a person's life. Music was no different, and they were determined to prove that instrumental music was magic itself. No technological equipment or device could alter that.

Lyla chuckled softly. It was the last sentence of a freshly-written chapter. She had written infinite final sentences before. She wasn't a newbie to the procedure.

It wouldn't have been absurd if she faced trouble in the middle of her first draft, but having figured the starting point, the middle and being stuck at a sentence, a final one, was laughable.

She tapped the tip of the pencil on the blank space at the bottom, dotting it with grey dots. The solution was to end self-pity and procrastination, take a deep breath and try again.

She pressed the tip to the page. They stared at each other for a beat, a smile finding its way to their lips. Magic didn't exist solely in music, for eye-contact was art in itself, magic both beautiful and lethal.

Lyla puffed her cheeks. Something in this excerpt was off and it didn't have to do with the fact that there was more than one sentence.

They stared at each other for a beat and the author thought how cruel creativity was to abandon her on such a crucial part. She was illusional enough to believe it was all creativity's fault. She wasn't on the wrong because she was sulking and surrendering to her fate as another writer or self-proclaimed wannabe writer for that matter.

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