*The Forbidden Note***
The world blurred.
Voices became distant.
The vibrant colors of the Observation March drained into gray as Soren's question echoed in Bungo's skull:
**"Why does your soul… carry a forbidden rhythm?"**
Forbidden?
How?
He didn't even understand what had awakened in him.
Mother Lyra immediately pulled Bungo behind her, her posture shifting—gentle caretaker replaced by fierce guardian.
"That is not a question for a public stage," she said sharply.
Soren didn't step forward, but he did lower his flute, the instrument's obsidian surface humming with residual power.
His gaze stayed locked onto Bungo.
"I heard something inside him during my performance," Soren said, voice calm but edged like a blade. "Something ancient. Something that should not exist."
Lumi trembled beside Rell.
Kairo stepped in front of Bungo instinctively, protective.
Rell's hand drifted toward his lute, not to attack—but to be ready.
Mother Lyra's voice deepened.
"You are too young to speak of 'what should not exist.' You do not yet understand even half of your family's history, Soren Blackfall."
Her words hit him.
Hard.
Soren's jaw tightened.
A muscle twitched beneath his left eye.
The crowd, sensing tension, whispered among themselves.
"Did Lyra just challenge a Blackfall…?"
"What forbidden rhythm?"
"Is the boy cursed?"
Bungo felt all the eyes turning toward him—stabbing like needles, pressing into his skin, his soul.
He hated it.
He wasn't used to attention.
He wasn't used to being… accused.
Mother Lyra ushered him and the others back through the crowd, her grip firm. "We leave. Now."
Soren didn't try to stop them.
But as they passed, Bungo felt the noble boy's gaze on the back of his neck—
cold
curious
calculating.
And beneath that…
fear.
Not fear *of* Bungo.
Fear *for* something else.
As if Bungo's awakening was the start of a chain reaction already set in motion.
---
## RETURN TO CRESCENT HAVEN
The walk back felt heavy.
The sounds of Lybren faded behind them—the cheering crowds, magical bursts, laughter—all swallowed by a growing storm inside Bungo's mind.
Once they reached the orphanage, Mother Lyra led him straight to her office—an old room filled with floating candles, dusty tomes, and string instruments that played themselves faintly when touched by dust motes.
Kairo tried to follow, but Lyra lifted a hand.
"Only Bungo."
Kairo frowned, hurt. "But he's my—"
"This is about him. Alone."
Her tone allowed no argument.
Kairo stepped back reluctantly.
Bungo entered.
The door shut.
---
Lyra sat on a cushioned stool, gesturing for him to stand in the center of a circular rug embroidered with countless musical symbols. The rug pulsed faintly as if recognizing him.
"Bungo," Lyra said gently, "I need you to breathe."
He tried.
But his breath hitched, stuttering with fear and confusion.
She approached and placed both hands on his temples.
A soft hum filled the room.
Her voice followed, serene and melodic:
**"Calm. Let the echo settle. Let the rhythm show itself."**
Something loosened inside him.
Light spread under his skin, faint but warm—like golden dust moving through his veins.
His heartbeat slowed.
But the rhythm inside him—the one that had awakened during Soren's performance—did not quiet.
It grew clearer.
Stronger.
**KA-THUM. KA-THUM. KA-THUM.**
Lyra stepped back in shock.
"That rhythm…"
She whispered.
"I feared it. But I never thought I would hear it again."
Bungo's voice cracked. "What is it? What's wrong with me?"
Lyra met his eyes, and for once, her gentle composure cracked.
"Nothing is wrong with you. But the power inside you… it shouldn't be possible."
She walked toward an old chest and opened it. Inside lay a scroll wrapped in tattered blue cloth. She unfurled it carefully.
Waves, lines, symbols, and circles filled the page—ancient music notation unlike anything in the modern world.
"This," she revealed, "is one of the oldest surviving scriptures of Ardenia. From before the rise of the Nobles."
Bungo stared, confused.
Lyra pointed to a pattern on the scroll—a rhythmic mark, shaped like a spiral within a heartbeat.
"This is the symbol of **Soul Resonance Arts**."
Bungo's heart fluttered.
"Resonance… like what happened on the stage?"
Lyra nodded slowly.
"Yes. But the one within you is not just any resonance."
Her eyes hardened.
"It's the **Lost Rhythm**—a power believed extinct for centuries."
Bungo stepped back. "Extinct? Why?"
Lyra took a long breath, then spoke:
"Because the last person who wielded it… destroyed an entire kingdom."
The candles flickered violently.
The music-playing instruments silenced at once—as if the very air recoiled from the memory.
The words punched Bungo in the gut.
"I… I could destroy a kingdom?"
Lyra shook her head quickly. "No. Not you. The power itself is dangerous if uncontrolled. But you—Bungo, you're kind. You can learn. You can choose your path."
He didn't feel reassured.
"Why did Soren react like that?" Bungo asked quietly.
Lyra's expression darkened.
"Because the Blackfall family history is intertwined with this ancient rhythm. And if Soren recognized it…"
She hesitated.
Then finally said:
"Your awakening threatens the balance of noble power."
Bungo felt cold.
Like the stage's pulse… had become a ticking clock.
Lyra's voice softened but carried weight:
"You must keep this hidden. Do you understand? Not even the other children should know. Only Kairo—because your souls are already bound."
Bungo nodded slowly, fear sinking in like winter frost.
Lyra lowered her voice to a whisper:
"Bungo… this world will not be kind if it learns who you truly are."
He swallowed.
His throat felt tight.
His pulse thundered louder—
a rhythm he couldn't control,
couldn't silence,
couldn't escape.
Lyra touched his shoulder gently.
"But you're not alone. And you're not cursed. You are simply becoming something… extraordinary."
A faint tear escaped Bungo's eye.
"I didn't ask for this," he whispered.
Lyra smiled sadly.
"No child ever does."
---
Outside the door, unseen by either of them, a shadow slipped away silently down the hall.
Someone had been listening.
And tomorrow—
the first consequence of Bungo's awakening would begin.