The lights dimmed to a deep, oceanic blue.
Not abruptly, not dramatically—just enough to make the air feel heavier, like the audience had been pulled beneath the surface of the sea. The chatter died away on its own, instinctively. Something about the darkness demanded silence.
Then she stepped onto the stage.
The Phoenix.
No backup dancers followed her.
No LED screens flared to life.
No fireworks, no choreography, no spectacle.
Just a single spotlight falling from above, pinning her in place like fate itself had chosen her.
The crimson-and-gold feathers of her costume shimmered faintly, muted by the blue light, glowing like embers buried under ash. The mask hid her face completely, but it couldn't hide the pressure she brought with her—the feeling that the stage had suddenly become too small.
The orchestra began.
A low, haunting sweep of strings unfurled through the auditorium, slow and deliberate. Beneath it, a deep bass pulsed like a distant heartbeat—steady, ominous, unavoidable.
It was Earth's Skyfall by Adele.
Several people in the audience recognized the song instantly—and stiffened.
This wasn't a "safe" choice.
This wasn't a song you sang to survive a round.
This was a song you sang if you wanted to dominate.
Backstage, contestants watching from the monitors felt their throats go dry.
At the judging table, Julian Vane leaned forward slightly, his practiced smile still in place. Mila Vance folded her hands, curious but guarded. Director Zhang twirled his pen, already prepared to dissect every flaw.
On stage, Avery inhaled.
The moment her lips parted, the world shifted.
[System Notification: Divine Resonance Buff Activated.]
[Effect: Emotional Authority Maximized. Vocal Output Stabilized.]
"This is the end…"
Her voice emerged low and controlled—smoky, restrained, almost conversational.
But it didn't float into the room.
It slammed into it.
The sound carried weight, like compressed air released all at once. The front rows visibly jolted, several people sucking in sharp breaths as if struck in the chest.
Julian Vane's smile froze.
Not faded.
Not cracked.
Frozen.
"Hold your breath and count to ten…"
The vibrato was subtle. Precise. Laced with something that crawled under the skin rather than soaring over it.
Mila Vance sat bolt upright.
Her eyes widened, fingers tightening against the table. This wasn't raw talent. This wasn't luck.
This was control.
Director Zhang's pen slipped from his fingers and clattered onto the desk.
He didn't notice.
The auditorium sank into absolute stillness.
By the thirty-second mark, the silence was so complete you could hear the faint hum of the air conditioning above the crowd. No coughing. No whispering. No shifting in seats.
Avery's voice moved effortlessly—sliding from a low, dangerous growl into a rising, cinematic swell that wrapped around every listener.
"Let the sky fall…"
The orchestra swelled beneath her, strings climbing higher, bass deepening like the sound of something massive collapsing in the distance.
"When it crumbles…"
Her voice didn't strain.
It commanded.
"We will stand tall…"
The words hit harder than the music itself.
To the audience, it didn't sound like a song anymore. It sounded like a declaration—like someone standing at the edge of ruin and daring the world to push them further.
"Face it all together…"
Julian felt a cold sweat break out along the back of his neck.
That tone.
That phrasing.
That vibrato.
It was hauntingly familiar.
No, he told himself immediately.
Impossible.
She was finished. Buried. Blacklisted.
This was just coincidence.
It had to be.
But his fingers trembled against the edge of the desk.
On stage, Avery stood perfectly still as the music carried her forward. She didn't need to move. Every note did the work for her, carving its way into the hearts of everyone listening.
[System Notification: 'First Note Shock' Achievement Unlocked!]
[Reward: 15,000 Prestige Points.]
The achievement chimed quietly in her mind, but she didn't acknowledge it.
She was already past that.
The spotlight seemed brighter now, the Phoenix burning against the blue darkness as the song surged onward. The audience was no longer judging her.
They were holding on.
And somewhere deep inside Julian Vane's chest, something he had buried for months began to crack—because for the first time since he thought Avery Rivers was destroyed, he felt it.
Fear.
The sky hadn't fallen yet.
But it was starting to shake.