Nyx

Draven stood at the edge of the stage, fingers curled around the neck of his guitar like it owed him money. The final chord of their set rang out, screaming into feedback, and the room erupted. Another sold-out show. Another night where the world made sense. Until it didn’t. Backstage was chaos. Roadies hauling gear, fans sneaking in, laughter bouncing off concrete walls. Draven wiped his face with a black towel, adrenaline still crackling through him like static. He scanned the room, looking for her. Nyx.