The instant the heavy silk curtains swept apart, the plaza became a living storm.
Tens of thousands of voices collided in a single, earth-shaking roar. Hands shot skyward—waving homemade banners, glowing ribbons, paper lanterns painted with the twins' names. Mana orbs drifted overhead like a private galaxy, pulsing soft blue and silver light that bathed the endless sea of faces in ethereal glow. The air itself seemed to vibrate, thick with the mingled scents of street food—roasted nuts, spiced meat, fresh bread—and the faint metallic tang of gathered mana. Cheers rolled forward in waves, crashing against the stage with physical force.
Aster and Astra stepped into the spotlight.
Two small figures against an ocean of humanity.
Yet they stood tall—white hair catching lantern light like halos, silver eyes bright with joy rather than fear.
The applause did not diminish; it swelled, a living tide of love and expectation.
"Aster! Astra!"
"Wynfall Twins forever!"
"We love you two!"
"Sing for us!"
"Show us the magic again!"
"Little prince! Little princess!"
Aster felt the sound in his bones—a resonance deeper than any spell. This was why he had pushed himself for a year. This moment. This connection.
He waited, letting the wave crest naturally. When it finally began to ebb, he raised the primary amplification stone. His voice cut through cleanly, warm and steady, reaching every ear from the front row to the distant rooftops.
"Thank you—all of you—for being here today. This is more than a performance. It's a promise. A beginning."
Astra bounced forward, cheeks flushed, eyes sparkling. "It's our very first official concert!"
The plaza detonated again, louder than before, as if the stones themselves might crack.
Aster raised his hand once more. A gentle pulse of Sound Magic rippled outward—soft, soothing, like a mother's hush across a restless child. The crowd quieted almost instantly, hanging on his next words.
"And today," he continued, turning toward the front row where Arlienne sat between Seraphine and Lyria, her hands already pressed to her heart, eyes glistening, "we are performing our very first full album."
He paused, letting anticipation coil like mana before release.
"Its name is… Our Mom."
A collective gasp swept the plaza—sharp, universal.
Then came the applause—different this time. Deeper. Emotional. Mothers throughout the crowd wiped sudden tears. Fathers lifted children higher. Entire families embraced. Arlienne covered her mouth, shoulders shaking with silent sobs of overwhelming joy.
Aster's smile turned tender, voice soft yet carrying perfectly.
"This album has fifteen songs. Twelve are the classics we've poured our hearts into. And three… are something new. We call them rap."
Confusion flickered across thousands of faces like wind across water.
"Rap?"
"What's rap?"
"Is that the fast-speaking magic from last year?"
"They say the prince invented it himself…"
"Can words really become music like that?"
Aster chuckled, the sound light and genuine through the amplifiers.
"You'll understand soon. We promise."
***
The stage blazed to life.
Aster lifted both hands high. Mana surged from his core in visible azure streams—threads of light weaving intricate patterns through the air, visible to every onlooker.
This world possessed no violins, no drums, no pianos.
Every instrument had to be born from Sound Magic alone.
First came delicate chimes—crystalline tones hanging like glass droplets in sunlight.
Then warm, resonant chords—string-like, rich, enveloping.
A gentle percussion line pulsed beneath—steady, heartbeat-deep.
The elements shimmered visibly, glowing wisps dancing in synchronized spirals around the twins.
The first song began.
A lullaby—slow, tender, achingly beautiful.
Lyrics woven around Arlienne's name.
Her quiet sacrifices.
Her endless warmth.
Her smile that turned darkness into dawn.
Arlienne's tears fell freely now, no attempt to hide them. Seraphine wrapped an arm around her shoulders, eyes wet. Lyria clutched her hand tightly, lower lip trembling.
The plaza swayed as one organism.
Children clapped in soft rhythm.
Families held each other closer.
The melody wrapped every soul in gentle warmth, like returning home after long absence.
Song after song unfolded, each distinct, each perfect.
An upbeat celebration of childhood wonder—children in the crowd spun and danced in place, parents laughing through sudden tears.
A soaring duet showcasing Astra's pure, bell-like highs against Aster's surprisingly mature depth—gasps rose when their voices braided in impossible, seamless harmony.
A nostalgic ballad about second chances—Aster pouring fragments of his past-life regret and rebirth-gratitude into every line, voice cracking with genuine emotion once, drawing collective sighs.
A playful tune about friendship and markets—the vendors in the crowd cheered loudest, waving aprons and hats.
By the sixth song, the audience knew simple choruses and sang along timidly at first, then boldly.
By the tenth, the plaza had become one unified heartbeat—laughter, tears, cheers blending into continuous waves of shared feeling.
It wasn't mere entertainment.
It was communion.
The kingdom's first true concert—a cultural miracle no history book had ever foreseen.
***
Behind the brilliance, Aster waged silent war against his limits.
Every sound effect drained mana.
Every layered harmony.
Every sustained rhythm.
Every visual shimmer of mana-made "instruments."
He was eight.
His mana pool—vast beyond normal children—strained dangerously.
By the eleventh song, faint tremors ran through his small frame.
Sweat beaded on his forehead despite cool evening air.
Vision blurred at edges.
Astra noticed during a brief instrumental bridge.
She leaned close. "Aster… you're pale. Your mana…"
He forced a reassuring smile. "I'm okay. Just… more layers than rehearsal."
Her frown deepened with worry. "Let me take some of the background magic."
"No. You focus on singing. I've got this."
He pushed harder.
Mana circles expanded visibly.
Lights intensified.
Music grew richer, more complex—reaching new heights.
But darkness crept at vision's edges.
*Not yet.*
*I won't falter.*
*This is our dream. Our first album. Mama's album.*
He regulated breathing, channeling mana in disciplined streams.
It held—barely.
The crowd remained blissfully unaware, lost in wonder.
"Encore!"
"One more!"
"Prince Aster!"
"Princess Astra!"
"SING!"
The twins exchanged exhausted but radiant smiles.
Aster raised the stone again, voice steady despite strain.
"Only three songs left!"
The response nearly lifted the stage.
"And the last ones," Astra added, her own voice bright despite concern in her eyes, "are all rap!"
Excitement crackled like lightning.
"Rap! Rap! Rap!"
"Is it really that amazing?"
"I traveled three days just for this!"
"I heard rumors—the prince makes words dance!"
People had journeyed from distant provinces solely for the promised rap, tales from last year's birthday having grown legendary.
Aster glanced at Astra.
"You ready for the finale?"
She nodded firmly. "Let's blow their minds."
But first—an essential pause.
The twins slipped backstage into dimmer light.
Aster collapsed onto a crate, breathing ragged, chest heaving.
Astra pressed a cool water flask into his hands. "Aster… your mana is dangerously low. You're shaking."
He drank greedily, but the tremor remained.
Instead of resting, he reached for a small blue vial—concentrated mana potion.
Astra's eyes widened in horror. "Aster—no! Not a full one!"
He downed it in one swallow.
Cool fire exploded through veins—restoring mana, but harsh and unstable.
Arlienne rushed in moments later, face ashen with panic.
"Aster! A full potion at your age—your channels aren't mature enough—"
He reached for a second vial.
"Aster—STOP!"
The bottle shattered against floor as she knocked it away.
Mana roared violently now—wild, overwhelming.
Heartbeat thundered in ears.
Vision swam in waves.
Arlienne gripped his shoulders, voice breaking with fear. "You'll tear your channels—permanent damage—please, my baby—"
Seraphine and Lyria burst in behind her, pale as ghosts.
"Aster, no more!"
"You've already given everything—please stop!"
He steadied breathing through sheer will, gently removing his mother's trembling hands.
"I have to finish," he whispered, voice raw. "For everyone who traveled here. For everyone who believes in us. For the dream."
Arlienne searched his silver eyes—and recognized the unyielding determination that had created miracles before: the birthday surprise, the sound stones, every impossible step.
Tears streaming, she pulled him into a fierce, protective embrace.
"Then promise me—promise you'll come back safe."
His arms trembled around her.
"…I promise."
Astra took his hand firmly.
"I'm handling the beats this time. No arguments."
He managed a tired but genuine smile.
"Together."
They stepped back through the tunnel.
Into blinding light and thunderous love.
***
The plaza reignited when they reemerged—cheers redoubling, shaking foundations.
"They're back!"
"Rap! Rap! RAP!"
"Go, little prince!"
"Show us the miracle again!"
Aster raised the stone, voice steady despite lingering tremor.
"Thank you for waiting. These final songs… are dedicated to all of you—the heart of Vornis."
The crowd thundered approval.
Astra initiated the first finale—a soaring vocal piece of gratitude and unity. Her voice rose pure and graceful while Aster layered subtle support, conserving precious strength.
Then—the rap.
Aster stepped center stage.
His eyes glowed faintly with unstable mana.
"This one," he announced, "is for the people of Vornis—the vendors who rise before dawn, the mothers who sacrifice quietly, the children who dream big. We are proud to sing for you."
Astra wove the beat—deep, pulsing, powerful, taking the heaviest load.
Aster began.
Fast.
Sharp.
Unrelenting.
Words carved rhythm through air like lightning through storm clouds.
Painting daily struggles and triumphs.
Celebrating resilience.
Igniting pride.
The plaza hung on every syllable—some shouting approval mid-verse, others standing frozen in awe.
When it ended, applause shook the city.
But Aster raised a hand for silence.
"One last song."
Absolute hush fell.
"This," he said softly, voice carrying raw vulnerability that silenced even wind, "is about how precious life is… and how beautiful the world can be when we share it."
Astra created a gentler beat—emotional, heartbeat-steady, like a lullaby for the soul.
Aster closed eyes.
Poured everything.
Fear from his lost first life.
Wonder of rebirth.
Gratitude for Arlienne's love.
Joy of Astra's companionship.
Hope for this music-starved world.
Words flowed like healing light—tender, profound, unflinching.
Astra added soft, tearful harmonies and subtle echoes.
The plaza stood stunned into reverence.
Not a whisper.
Not a shuffle.
Even distant nobles in observation towers felt hearts stir unexpectedly.
Arlienne wept openly, hands pressed to chest.
Seraphine clutched Lyria, both crying silently.
Palace guards stationed at edges blinked away tears.
When Aster's voice cracked once—raw, human, carrying the weight of two lifetimes—the moment transcended performance.
It became something sacred.
He ended with a whisper that somehow reached every ear:
"…and that is why… this world is beautiful."
The final echo dissolved into night.
Ten full seconds of absolute silence—fifty thousand souls holding breath as one.
Then—
The plaza exploded.
Screams of pure joy.
Sobs of catharsis.
Cheers that rattled windows across the capital.
Lanterns waved like oceans of living stars.
Strangers embraced.
Families wept together.
It was the most profound emotional release in Vornis's history.
Aster swayed dangerously.
Astra caught him instantly, supporting his weight.
"You did it…" she whispered, voice thick.
But he straightened one final time, determination flaring brighter than exhaustion.
He raised the stone.
"Everyone—please wait."
The massive crowd halted mid-celebration—fifty thousand faces turning back in unified attention.
"I have an announcement."
Astra stared in surprise—she hadn't known.
Arlienne rose slowly, concern deepening.
Distant nobles leaned forward.
In the palace, the queen sat bolt upright, instinct screaming danger.
Aster's silver eyes burned under lantern glow, voice steady despite trembling body.
"Starting today… my sister and I will no longer accept palace funding.
We will stand on our own.
Earn our way through music.
Through Sound Magic.
Through the support of people like you—who believe in us."
A stunned gasp swept the plaza—sharp, universal.
Then—thunderous, overwhelming approval.
Cheers louder than any before, shaking the very air.
Aster continued, voice gaining strength from the crowd's love.
"And our next concert… will have paid admission.
Every coin earned will go toward one dream:
Spreading music to every corner of Vornis.
So no child grows up in silence.
So no heart feels alone.
So everyone can share this beauty."
The plaza shook with roaring support—louder, longer, fiercer than any applause.
In that moment—eight years old, body pushed beyond limits, heart overflowing—Aster changed everything.
Not through royal decree.
Not through fire or blood.
Through song.
Through love made audible.
And the world would never be the same.