Have you ever been inside a dumpster?
Rilian Lyric did.
He was inside for about a minute or two.
Soon, when the muffled sounds of the footsteps of his pursuers were gone, he pushed the lid open and climbed up.
He wiped the sweat from his face with the sleeve of his suit, but the stench clinging to the fabric made his stomach heave, immediately he bent over and threw up.
His father, a man who loved fantasy novels and music, took his first name from Rilian, a character from the Chronicles of Narnia, a prince cursed and bound to a silver chair, and his second name Lyric, hoping he'd grow into a songwriter.
At the age of seventeen, both names resonated with him well. Rilian thought he was cursed, not by a witch, but by a charisma he never asked for—one that drew attention he despised.
He wasn't a songwriter, but he was a gifted musician, hopelessly in love with jazz. He was an introvert. The kind who wanted to disappear behind the piano and stay there all day.
He hated public performance. But that night, he and his two classmates were tasked to play as a jazz trio for the school festival. With his naturally tousled brown hair and green eyes—wearing a suit and tie—he was irresistible.
And so after their performance, when he walked down the stage, he was chased by schoolgirls, ran outside the auditorium and hid inside the dumpster.
"This is ridiculous," he muttered to himself while removing his smelly suit. "I should have not agreed to play."
His phone vibrated, he pulled it from his pocket, and found a message from Zeke, the drummer:
"Dude, how are you? Haha! Sorry, Caleb and I weren't able to stop the fangirl horde."
Just as his fingers typed to reply, something strange caught his eye.
On the passageway going to the back of the auditorium, he saw something that looked like a goo.
He froze when it began to move and shaped into something eerie.
Rilian slid his phone in his pocket as he backed away.
"Crap, crap, crap!" he said in panic. He didn't wait for the figure to fully form. He turned and ran away.
* * *
The next day, going to school was like a mirror of his last night's chase. Although it started quietly, with sly glances, whispers, and giggles. Eventually more and more started to recognize him as the charming pianist from the festival night.
Trying to reach his classroom as if it were a safe haven, he was partly walking, partly running.
When he finally reached the classroom's door, a book suddenly smacked him in the face, and he jolted to a stop.
He blinked and realized that he was about to bump into one of his classmates and used the book to stop him.
"Watch where you're going, Prince of Narnia."
It was Yarin. Some simply referred to her as the "Goth Girl" because of her fashion. When not in uniform, she was always dressed in black, matching her black earrings.
She was mysterious to everyone.
But even more mysterious for Rilian. Of all the girls in school, she was the only one who seemed to dislike him. Whenever he caught a glance from her, what he saw was not admiration. She clearly detested him.
"Ohh… I'm sorry," Rilian quickly apologized.
Yarin didn't respond. She simply turned and went inside the classroom.
Rilian followed and headed to his seat between Zeke and Caleb.
"Here's our reluctant jazzstar," Zeke remarked.
"How was the chase last night?" said Caleb, the bassist.
"As bad as I smelled after," Rilian replied dryly.
"What?" Caleb asked curiously.
"I hid inside a dumpster," Rilian said.
Zeke and Caleb laughed.
"Dude, we still have one night to perform," Zeke said.
Caleb added, "Bigger crowd tonight. More screaming girls. Can't wait."
Rilian groaned and dropped his forehead on his desk. "Kill me now."
The bell rang, and everyone settled in for class.
* * *
Night came, and the school auditorium glowed with festival lights. The place buzzed with chatter, music, and the smell of street foods.
"Rilian, Zeke, Caleb, you're next," a teacher from the backstage called out.
As soon as they stepped onto the stage, the crowd erupted.
Rilian sat at the piano bench, rolling his shoulders before stretching his fingers over the keys. He gave a small nod to Zeke.
Zeke twirled a stick, counted them in, and the stage pulsed with jazz rhythm.
From the crowd, high-pitched shrieks echoed, and a wave of shouts called Rilian's name. It irritated him. He wanted the crowd to appreciate the music for what it was, the subtle chord changes and intricate scales, and not because of him.
"You're just not in the right crowd, Rilian," he whispered, trying to console himself.
Still, he noticed a few heads swayed, some with eyes closed, really listening to the music. Enough to inspire him.
He zoned in and played the music as if he were alone.
Moments passed, and they reached their last piece. Rilian was lost in the music, fingers gliding across the keys. He wasn't thinking about the crowd anymore. His soul was soaring with the music.
He lifted his head and took a quick glance at the audience, and his eyes landed on an intriguing sight.
Yarin was weaving through the crowd, her eyes locked on him as if she saw something on him she wasn't supposed to.
He snapped his head back on the keys, frowning.
"Why is she looking at me like that?" he thought.
The lights flickered erratically until they went out completely, and the auditorium erupted in shouts and nervous laughter.
"Man!" Zeke's voice cut through the dark. "This is the part where you need to run."
Through the dim lights of the cellphones, he saw girls starting to climb up the stage.
Rilian stood and jumped off from the side of the stage. Ran towards the back hallway, the same route he took the other night.
He quickly reached the backdoor exit. Seeing the dumpster, he said, "No, no, no, I won't ever do that again."
He turned to the passage going to the back of the school's auditorium instead, but from his peripheral vision, he could see a figure following.
"How did a girl catch up to me that fast?" he whispered.
The figure was closing the distance and he was beginning to feel something unusual. He turned his head, and a chill ran down his spine.
Her hair was impossibly long, dragging on the ground as she ran. But her face was smooth, like a mannequin—no eyes, no mouth. Her hands dangled far too low, thin and boneless.
"I'm dreaming! I'm dreaming! Wake-up, Rilian!"
He turned his head for another look, but his foot caught on a large rock.
He stumbled and scrambled to his feet. Still on the ground—he turned, his chest hammered, breath shallow—the faceless girl was already in front of him.
It tilted its head like a broken doll—the dangling hands twitched wildly, jerking forward.
And then a flash of light.
The faceless girl stood frozen. Suddenly, its body was torn in half, the two pieces falling on each side.
From behind, stood Yarin holding a gold scythe—she didn't say anything and just kept her eyes on Rilian.
The body of the girl dissolved into a purple smoke, swirled in the air, and before Rilian could move, the smoke rushed into his chest.
He gasped, clutching his chest. It didn't hurt, but it felt cold and wrong.
When he looked up, Yarin was already in front of him.
"You've got to be kidding me," she said, staring at him as if he ruined her whole week.
"What… what was that?!" Rilian shouted. "And why did… Why did the smoke enter my chest?!"
She brought her hands to her face, a gesture of utter dismay. "Because you're the Aether Vessel."
"The what?"
She let out a deep breath, then grabbed him by the wrist. "Come on, Prince of Narnia. You and I need to talk."