A Storm of Fire Part 1: The Eye of a New Storm

Catenation (3.2)

Lost Diamond

It is a vibration that churns his whole being. From the outer layer of skin to the very core of his marrow. A drumming echoes with intensity and grows into his very pulse. A musical tooth scratches the set of strings for a fated melody to blossom with voice. The vibration flies out from his throat and spreads in the air as the final component of this scripted symphony.

Keirthon's serenade to this art is loaded with ecstasy. His roars resemble that of an evil creature, expressing the deepest of sorrows a human can experiment. Jackson completes the message with a cherubic harmony in the chorus, as his fingers coordinate to execute a complicated riff. Adara accelerates the speed of the double pedal, adding strength to the sound, perspiration drenching her garments. The other three band members drop to silence, letting her drum solo steal the spotlight for fifteen seconds for switching into an acoustic style with influences from jazz. Keirthon stops playing his guitar, now Price, their bassist, carries the last minutes with a milder pace, accompanied by Jack's clean vocals until the bridge concludes.

"Well done, well done" cheers Jackson giving a brief applause to his bandmates.

He is the co-founder of Blackened Souls. He and George formed the group two years ago, when Keirthon was simply a thirteen-year-old boy. Jackson, a man of 26 years old, has a long, curly and brown colored hair, a van dyke beard and brown eyes. His adoptive father has financed the studio where they record and has worked as their manager from the start. Price, in his 24 years of age, would be described as baby-faced by Keirthon, he uses a lot of gel in his blonde hair and has been overweight since childhood. His thick fingers move the strings of his base guitar like they were made of silk. Adara, on the other hand, was recruited five months ago. Their previous drummer died on an accident. Adara was her boyfriend and he had been teaching her about the instrument, so she went to Keirthon and Jackson for an audition and showed excellent skills for music. She is small, has brunette skin, wavy hair with blue and purple color, a dye that is often flattered by people, and brown eyes.

"Legit, not great, I dunno" Adara says, walking towards a bottle of water, "I mean, your growls are getting weaker. The public want to hear a monster, not a dying goat" Price bursts into laughter.

"You know; I still don't figure out how you are able to reach the cymbals with that height" George ripostes with a triumphant grin. Adara sticks the middle finger at him and both laugh.

"Small or not, I can beat your ass, so don't provoke me punk-head" she raises her eyebrows and stretches her lips.

"Enough" Jackson steps in the middle of them with a scolding glower, "Keirthon is not gonna be able to sleep tonight if you keep threatening him" he tells Adara, keeping his feigned seriousness. Adara chortles. "He might even crap his pants while dreaming. His mom is not going to be happy" Price bursts in laughter again, this time joined by Adara. Keirthon bumps Jackson in the shoulder.

"Ok, you can quit bullying me" the young Zanally objects.

"It's not a BS rehearsal if we don't bully the band's baby" Adara, who is three years older, wraps an arm around Keirthon's neck and rubs her fist on his head.

"Baby? I'm not the one who's 5'1 feet tall."

"What did you say?" Adara asks, her grin threatening.

"Nothing." A vibration in her thigh causes an itching. Adara pulls out her cellphone. Keirthon suddenly realizes that Adara's sweat is moistening his shirt. "Could you stay away? I'm going to smell awful if you stick to me." Adara wraps the other arm around him and begins moving as she unlocks the mobile. "I'm serious! That's nasty! Also, you gotta answer the call."