The neon halo of AquaCelestia shimmered beyond the glass dome of the SkyBridge studio, painting soft reflections over the stage. A quiet tension settled over the rehearsal room, thick like the hush before a storm. The others had left for the night. Only Ren and Kai remained—one clinging to his earbuds, the other tapping a booted heel against the floor in quiet frustration.
Ren stood at the mic, trembling slightly as he adjusted the headset. Across the room, Kai leaned against the control panel, arms folded, his expression unreadable.
“This isn’t working,” Kai finally muttered. “Your voice... it’s all over the place.”
Ren’s fingers clenched. “I-I’m trying. I know it’s not perfect.”
Kai sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “You don’t need to try so hard. You just need to let the music guide you.”
“And you think that just happens?” Ren snapped, surprising even himself.
Kai looked up, startled. Then, slowly, he walked over, his boots silent against the polished floor.
“Sing the lullaby,” he said. “The one you hummed the other night.”
Ren blinked. “You... remembered that?”
Kai didn’t answer. He simply stepped closer, stopping just behind Ren, his breath brushing the back of Ren’s neck. “Sing it.”
Taking a shaky breath, Ren closed his eyes and began to hum, then let the melody form on his lips—soft, wistful, haunting. The same lullaby his mother used to sing. The same one he’d carried across centuries.
A shiver ran down Kai’s spine. The melody wove into the air, into his blood.
He stepped forward, brushing his hand over the console to cue a harmonic layer. “Again. This time… let’s do it together.”
Ren nodded.
The music started. Kai’s voice—cool and resonant—joined Ren’s softer tones. It was rough at first, a mismatch of waves crashing against each other. But then something shifted. Their voices found an alignment, a current that carried both of them.
Ren felt the electricity rush through him, and so did Kai.
Their harmonies collided, then danced.
A spark.
When they ended, breathless, the silence rang louder than the music. Ren turned. Their faces were close. Too close.
Kai stared at him, wide-eyed, his walls momentarily lowered.
“You…” he said quietly, “sound like him.”
“Him?”
Kai didn’t answer.
Instead, he leaned forward. Slowly. Testing. Waiting.
Ren’s breath hitched, but he didn’t move away. Not when Kai’s fingers brushed his cheek. Not when their lips finally met—tentative, uncertain, yet unbearably charged.
The kiss was fleeting. But its impact? Instant.
When they pulled away, Ren couldn’t look at him. “I… didn’t mean—”
Kai stopped him with a whisper. “I did.”
Before Ren could respond, the studio lights flickered. A glitch rippled through the air, a distortion neither noticed at first.
But far away, in the deepest chamber of Stellaris, a forgotten AI stirred.
It had heard that lullaby again.
It remembered something it wasn’t supposed to.
And it was awake now.
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