Back? # **Chapter Zero: Just Take A Leap Of Faith And See\!** *Nepenthe, 3:00 PM* “Fi, we both know you know how to knock,” Nuro teased as his younger brother entered his bedroom unannounced and uninvited for the billionth time. Fileran smirked, the mischievous gleam in his eye matched only by the glittering fibres of his shaggy purple wig. “No time, This is important. Drop what you’re doing; I need to talk to you.” The elder brother sighed but put down his game controller and spun his chair around to face Fileran nonetheless. “Fine, fine, whatever. What’s up?” Nuro’s plum-hued braids swayed back and forth as he spoke. “You saw Mercury’s message, right? About the Festival?” Nuro nodded. A few months ago, the brothers, their cousins, and their friends formed a performing arts group that they dubbed ‘StrangeNation.’ This morning, Nuro’s cousin Mercury, who handled the group’s public relations and logistics, had passed along an enticing request. The Magispace, Earth’s haven for magical beings, was planning a grand festival, celebrating the human Christmas and the Itravien Feast of Hope. While the two holidays were not entirely equivalent, they shared enough similarities that they were often celebrated as a pair. The Magispace saw it as a prime occasion for encouraging unity between the two worlds, complete with dazzling lights, delicious food, and festive music. The Magispace’s event coordinator, Denali, had reached out to StrangeNation for help with the event, culminating in their headline performance at its concert\! “Yeah, I saw it. I have no problems helping the ‘Space pull this off \-- seems cool. Why?” A catlike grin crossed Fileran’s lips. “I have a proposal.” Nuro bit back a groan. What Fileran framed as a ‘proposal’ often ended up being something mandatory. His brother’s persistence and persuasiveness were a dangerous combination. Fileran took his brother’s silence as a cue. “I want you to sing in th--” “No.” Nuro interjected, spitting out the word like a gunshot. “Gods no. Absolutely not.” “Why not?” Nuro’s eyes narrowed. “You know exactly why not, Fi\! I can’t believe you’d even suggest that\!” As much as he tried to block them, memories stabbed into Nuro’s mind, as sharp and painful as the day they were made. He was sixteen, performing a solo in his school’s holiday concert. He had given his all, practicing and preparing diligently for months, and his excitement had drawn friends and family alike to the audience. Excitement that was quickly crushed once he discovered that the sounds coming from his throat that night couldn’t even charitably be described as ‘singing.’ His awkward, throttled squawks had echoed through his mind for months afterward \-- not to mention through the school’s halls once his classmates had spread the footage across every conceivable social channel. The circumstances that lead to that moment weren’t clear: His voice had always been pleasant, and his music teacher was “beyond impressed” with his showpiece in rehearsals. The leading theory was that he had been supernaturally sabotaged by his celebrity family’s former manager, Lydia, in an attempt to mold him into the ‘strong, silent type’ she had always wanted him to be. Other, less conspiratorial rumours assumed it was simply a case of nerves or an unfortunately-timed medical issue. Whatever the case, the damage was done. Since that day, Nuro hadn’t uttered a single note \-- at least, not in front of anyone else. He still mumbled a tune to himself occasionally, but only if he knew he was alone. No one \-- not even his worst enemy \-- deserved to be subjected to his caterwauling. Fileran sighed. “Nuro, you know whatever happened that night was just a fluke\! Your voice is incredible\! I’ve heard it, Kinsi’s heard it, Ameralo’s heard it--” “Yeah, and you all have to say that because you’re my family and don’t want to hurt my feelings\!” Nuro snapped. “Fileran, the answer is no. You don’t need to keep insisting I had talent. There’s plenty of video evidence to prove you wrong. And besides, even if I did, I’m years out of practice.” “That’s nothing a few months couldn’t fix…” Fileran offered weakly, but was met by deafening silence. Nuro crossed his arms and looked away. “Alright,” Fileran conceded. “If you don’t want to, I won’t push it. Sorry for putting you on the spot like that.” Nuro smiled softly. “It’s alright. I know you were just trying to encourage me. C’mere.” He stood up, spread his arms, and wrapped his brother in a tight, bone-crushing hug, leaving his petite legs dangling slightly off the ground. Once Fileran was released from his brother’s grip, the pair went their separate ways, the matter forgotten entirely. For a few months, at least. \--- Amid the harsh November winds knocking at his window and the blaring music keeping him company while he worked on costumes for the rapidly approaching Festival, Fileran almost didn’t hear the soft knock on his studio door. “Come in\!” He called cheerily, passing a bolt of midnight-blue satin through his sewing machine before shutting it off and swivelling on his stool to face his visitor. “Hey, Fi. Got a minute? I can come back if not \-- totally understand if you’re busy.” Fileran heard the nerves in his brother’s voice begging him to take the easy way out, but he wasn’t going to let Nuro go that easily. “Of course, come in, come in\!” Fileran patted the purple velvet settee next to his workbench. Nuro cursed under his breath but entered anyway, perching nervously on the edge of the seat. He spoke quietly and slowly, the words sticking to his mouth. “Okay, so. You know, a couple of months ago, you brought up…” Fileran leaned in intently. “Singing in the concert?” “Yeah. That.” “Yes, I think that rings a bell. And that you told me, in no uncertain terms, that it was out of the question,” Fileran teased gently. He had a pretty good idea where his brother was headed. “Right. Well…” His shoulders drooped. “Look, you were right. I’ve been listening to some of my old rehearsal tapes and practicing a couple of songs, and maybe I’m not as bad as I thought. I want to give it a shot.” “Oh my gods, yes\!” Fileran squealed. “Nuro, I am so proud of you\! Let me hear it\!” “Now?\!” “Why not? You said you had some things prepared\!” “I…” Nuro swallowed down the bile in his throat. “Okay. Alright\! Let’s do it.” Fileran switched off his music and settled himself down onto the settee. Nuro stood by the studio’s tall windows and gazed at the twilight-kissed skyline, pointedly avoiding his brother’s eyes. Then, he began to sing. His voice wavered initially, and for a moment, Fileran was worried he’d lose his nerve. But as the song built, he found his footing, and his voice echoed through the studio, clear, strong, and beautiful. He soared through a challenging climax, momentum and skill spurring him on until the tune drew to a close. The room went silent once more, and Nuro was sure that the emptiness would choke him. He glanced toward Fileran, raising an eyebrow; “What do you think?” Fileran’s lips quirked. “Well…I didn’t like it.” Nuro’s heart sank, and he could feel the sting of tears bubbling forth. “Oh…okay.” Fileran rushed over, tackling his brother in a hug. “Oh, Nuro, I LOVED it\! Don’t cry, don’t cry, it’s okay, I’m sorry\! I was just trying to build suspense\!” Both brothers were crying, but Nuro had broken into a grin and rustled his brother’s hair. “You asshole.” “So, you liked it?” he asked tentatively once his brother had broken free. “It was amazing\! I told you \-- voice of an angel. But don’t take it from me…” He slipped his hand into his pocket and pulled out his phone, where a video was waiting. “Dude\! You recorded me?\!” Fileran rolled his eyes. “Just listen, would you? You need to hear this for yourself.” He pressed play, and Nuro listened begrudgingly. With eyes shut tight, he braced himself for the cacophony that haunted his memories. But it never came. Instead, a sweet, pleasing melody filled the room, one he could hardly believe was his own voice. The music swirled around him and the vibrant sunset bathed the horizon in color, as if the world itself was listening and cheering him on. As the song drew to a close, his heart fluttered: Could he really do this? “...I’ll do it.” “YES\! I knew it\! You won’t regret th--” “On three conditions.” Fileran opened his mouth to retort but decided against it. He had already gotten this far \-- no need to push his luck. “...And those would be?” “First of all, don’t tell the others I’m doing this. I want it to be a surprise on the night of the show.” Fileran mimed locking his lips and throwing away the key. “Alright, perfect. Second, I can drop out on the night of the show if I don’t want to do it. No questions asked.” “But--” “No buts. Please, Fi. I’m not asking much.” “Fine, fine. What’s number three?” Nuro grinned. “That’s where you come in. I’m gonna need help with my stage presence. We’ve been on camera pretty much our entire lives, but this is a whole different thing. I have the voice, sure, but I’ll need the confidence to go with it. And who better to help me than world-famous fashion designer, diva, and certified extrovert Fileran Gliam?” Fileran stroked his beard. “Hmm, I don’t know, darling. My services don’t exactly come cheap. Do my chores for a month, then we’ll talk.” “No way, dude,” Nuro chuckled. “You’re not worth that much. I’d do a week, max.” “Two weeks, final offer. Take it or be on your merry way.” Nuro rolled his eyes before holding out his hand for Fileran to shake. “Damn. You drive a hard bargain, my guy. But, a deal’s a deal, I guess.” With a shake of Nuro’s hand, the terms were set. This would be a concert to remember.