He stepped off the train, but the train wasn’t what moved him. The city was louder than usual tonight—Brooklyn humming like a subwoofer beneath the pavement, pulling him forward. Kai didn’t ask why. He followed.
The subway had chaos in its rhythm—Selene’s presence still glitching at the edge of memory. Her movement wasn’t just magnetic; it cracked something open. Above ground, neon puddles stitched his path in violet. Every corner vibrated with fragments of a melody only he could hear.
Then came the mural—Pop Smoke staring out from a concrete canvas, eyes like speakers tuned to a higher frequency. Kai froze. The glow wasn’t just paint. It spoke. Some spirits leave echoes. Others leave instructions.
Now he’s here—CRE8IVE SOUND. The energy isn’t wild anymore. It’s guided. Tuned. The room reacts before he even opens his mouth. Inside the studio, it’s not just Kai who steps up to the mic. It’s something layered… awakened.
