Morning came soft and golden, painting Vale Studio in quiet light.
The world outside was loud again — interviews, award buzz, and viral videos everywhere —
but inside, there was only the hum of creation.
Rian sat at the console, headphones around his neck, tuning the guitar that had become almost an extension of his hands.
Lian leaned against the window, watching the city breathe below. He could see posters of their faces on screens, streaming numbers flashing across billboards, hashtags swirling like digital confetti.
But the noise didn't reach him here.
Only the faint sound of strings.
Only Rian.
"Ready?" Rian asked, glancing over his shoulder.
Lian nodded. "This one's different."
Rian smiled faintly. "They always are."
He pressed record.
---
The song started bare — just guitar, slow and haunting.
Then came Lian's voice, low at first, then rising like dawn breaking through cloud.
> "If silence is all that's left of us,
Let it still be ours."
