I’m used to being the loudest thing in the room.

It’s not on purpose. Really. Okay, maybe sometimes it’s on purpose, but mostly it’s just... me. People hear me before they see me, and when they see me, they either smile or roll their eyes. Either way, they remember me.

Being memorable is my superpower—or so I tell myself.

But right now, standing in the middle of the chaos, I feel... invisible.

The air hums with magic, thick and restless, like the town itself is trying to scream. The ley lines are shifting again. I can feel it in the pit of my stomach, a low vibration that rattles my bones and makes my teeth ache.

Zoe’s light magic flickers as she directs the team, her voice calm but commanding. Finn’s darting around, trying to stabilize a wardstone that looks like it might implode at any second. Grumps is grumbling (of course), but he’s already shifted into dragon mode, his claws glowing faintly as he helps Lucian block a surge of energy.

And me? I’m humming under my breath, trying to counter the vibrations with a steadying frequency. It’s working. Sort of. The people nearby stop clutching their heads like they’re trapped in a bad karaoke night, so that’s something. But the ley lines don’t care. They’re still pulsing wildly, their rhythm all wrong.

“Melody, over here!” Zoe calls, and I snap out of my thoughts.

I jog over to her, my boots crunching on the cobblestones that are starting to shimmer unnervingly. She’s pointing at a tear in the air—a literal tear, like someone’s taken a giant knife and slashed through reality.

“Can you stabilize this?” she asks, her light flaring around the edges of the tear.

I nod, swallowing the lump in my throat. “Yeah. Sure. No problem.”

I step closer, ignoring the way the tear seems to hiss at me. My voice catches for a second, but then I start to hum. It’s a low, steady note, one that feels like home—warm, grounded, real. The tear quivers, like it’s trying to resist, but I keep going. Slowly, the edges begin to knit back together, the shimmering distortion fading.

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“Nice work,” Zoe says with a small smile.

I nod, but the knot in my stomach doesn’t go away.

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Later, back at Pixel & Fangs, I’m perched on the counter, strumming my guitar absentmindedly while the team debates our next move. Well, they’re debating. I’m... not really paying attention.

My fingers move over the strings automatically, plucking out a familiar tune. It’s something my mom used to hum when she thought I wasn’t listening. A lullaby from the old country, she called it. She never said which country, but I know now.

Faerie.

I didn’t ask to be part of the Faerie Court. I didn’t even know I was part of it until a few months ago, when the whispers started. Little hints in the air, voices singing songs only I could hear. At first, I thought it was just my magic being weird again. Siren stuff. But then the dreams started.

In the dreams, I’m standing in a field of silver flowers, their petals shimmering under a moon that’s too big to be real. The air is thick with music—layers and layers of it, weaving around me like a living thing. And there, in the center of it all, is a figure I can never quite see.

“Come home,” they say. Every time.

It’s not home. Whispering Pines is home. At least, I think it is.

“Melody!”

I blink, realizing Zoe’s been calling my name. Everyone’s looking at me now, their faces a mix of confusion and concern.

“Sorry,” I mumble, sliding off the counter. “What’s up?”

Zoe frowns but doesn’t push. “We need you at the diner. There’s another distortion, and it’s pulling in sound. If it gets worse, it could collapse the entire block.”

“Got it,” I say, slinging my guitar over my shoulder.

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At Rosie’s Diner, the distortion is worse than I expected. The air itself seems to ripple, and the jukebox is stuck on a warped, looping version of “Blue Moon.”

I close my eyes and take a deep breath, letting the familiar weight of my guitar steady me. The strings hum under my fingers as I start to play, matching the distortion’s frequency before gently shifting it.

It’s like coaxing a frightened animal out of a corner—slow, careful, deliberate.

The distortion wavers, then dissolves into nothing.

Rosie peeks out from behind the counter, her usual no-nonsense demeanor softened by something that might be gratitude. “Nice work, kid,” she says.

I nod, but the knot in my stomach tightens