The lights above the stage flickered, casting erratic shadows as The Fallen Stars played the last chord of their most iconic song. The crowd roared, voices blending into a singular, overwhelming wave. Hank, drenched in sweat, felt his heart hammering in sync with his relentless drumming. Roxxy and Hugo shredded their guitars with blistering speed, William's bass thundering through the venue. Kofi’s voice, powerful and raw, echoed through the hall, while Drake’s keyboard filled the gaps, elevating the music to transcendence.
But then—something snapped. A metallic creak sliced through the music, sharper than any note they could play. Before they could react, the stage groaned and shifted. The overhead rigging came crashing down. Lights, beams, and wires tangled in chaos as everything collapsed.
A scream from the crowd. Panic. Pain.
The world faded into darkness.
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Consciousness flickered back, but the band found themselves floating in an endless void. Time had no meaning here; the last second of terror stretched into eternity, yet everything felt simultaneous. They couldn’t feel their bodies, couldn’t move, but they were aware of each other. Connected, but disoriented.
"It shouldn’t have ended this way," Kofi thought, though his voice never left his lips. "Was that it?"
Suddenly, the silence broke with a voice—not one from their own world, not one they had ever heard before, but it resonated with an impossible clarity.
“Do you wish to continue?”
The question cut through their confusion. The voice was neither male nor female, neither harsh nor gentle, but it carried the weight of an offer that transcended reality itself.
"Continue?" Roxxy’s mind latched onto the word. "We’re dead. Aren’t we?"
A pause followed, as if the voice waited for them to understand something profound.
“Your time in your world has ended. But I can offer you another chance—a chance to live again.”
Hank's instinct was to question, to rebel against this intangible force, but something stopped him. What choice do we have?
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.
"What’s the catch?" Hugo’s thoughts cut through the space, skeptical as always.
The voice chuckled, the sound echoing across the void like ripples in still water. “Ah, there is always a cost. You will live, but not as you knew it. I will send you to a new world, one far removed from your own. You will be... changed, your music transformed. And in this world, power flows through art—through music.”
"Music?" William's curiosity piqued. "In another world?"
The voice’s presence seemed to envelop them. “Your instruments will survive the transition. More than that—they will be altered, charged with spiritual energy. They will resonate with forces you cannot yet comprehend. But you must grow your power through one thing: influence. The more people who follow you, the more powerful you become. It’s as simple as that.”
"Followers?" Drake mused. "Is that why we’ve always done this? For the fans?"
“Fans... yes. Their admiration, their devotion will become the source of your strength. The more they adore you, the more you will ascend.”
A sense of awe swept through them. The offer sounded like a bizarre dream, yet in this surreal space, it made sense. The alternative was non-existence. A silent void. An abrupt end.
Kofi’s thoughts solidified. "We take the offer," he projected, though the others could sense his uncertainty. "What do we have to lose?"
One by one, they agreed, thoughts intertwining like chords of an unplayed melody. There was no discussion, only understanding. The weight of finality pressed on them, urging them forward.
“Very well,” the voice said, a quiet satisfaction in its tone. “When you awaken, your instruments will be your guide, and the system will activate upon your arrival. From then on, every note, every beat, and every lyric will shape your destiny in this new world.”
Without warning, everything blurred. Reality folded in on itself, and they felt the sensation of falling—faster, deeper—until the void shattered.
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The band stood at the edge of a massive cliff, overlooking an alien landscape. A dense forest sprawled beneath them, ancient trees swaying in a breeze that hummed with energy. Mountains rose in the distance, and a vast sky, unlike any they had ever seen, stretched overhead.
They could feel their instruments—intact and vibrating faintly, as though pulsing with new life. Roxxy touched her guitar’s strings, and the hum grew louder, resonating with an energy she had never felt before. Hank gripped his drumsticks, and for a moment, it was as though the very air trembled at his command.
Kofi looked at the others, eyes wide, breath caught in his throat. “We’re really here.”
Before any of them could process what was happening, the voice returned, but now it was more distant, faint. “The system is now in place. Rise to fame once more, and you shall wield power beyond imagination. Your journey begins now.”
And with that, the voice was gone.
The band stood in silence, their new reality stretching before them, as they realized they were no longer bound by the world they knew. Time hadn’t passed at all—or maybe it had passed in the blink of an eye. It didn’t matter anymore. The stage had changed, and so had they.
The Fallen Stars had a second chance.
This time, the music would mean more than it ever had before.