"Darkness blurs the sight! Like a veil over the eyes! With the power of true love, it can be torn apart!" (Note 1)
A voice, deep and resonant from the core, carried a weight that overpowered the melody's vastness, unleashing an even brighter burst of energy.
Darkness—absolute darkness—spread through Ronan's singing, like the pitch-black moment before dawn. An endless void swallowed the earth, gripping every listener with a visceral, trembling fear. That raw power swept through, unstoppable.
Boom!
Fear and timidity, unease and confusion—these heavy emotions latched onto their ankles, dragging them down, deeper, like a free fall spiraling out of control. The force of the melody and his voice shattered their defenses effortlessly, pulling them from outsiders to participants, then straight into shared despair and pain.
In the face of fate, resistance felt futile.
But!
Would they just surrender? Give up without a fight? Bow their heads in defeat? Settle for mediocrity? Abandon themselves entirely?
No!
Absolutely not!
"Oh… oh… oh!"
The melody soared, leaping an octave with Ronan's voice, emotions ripping through the sound bit by bit. "You know everyone's chasing the light!"
Then, another octave higher, hitting a new peak. His trembling voice poured out every ounce of feeling and energy, unbound even by the melody itself. It exploded from eardrums to hearts to souls, brushing against the power of darkness—
At its deepest point, darkness cradled light.
"Yeah! Yeah… you know! Everyone's chasing… the light!"
His high notes climbed step after step, unstoppable now. Power rippled outward in waves, and the darkness retreated, crumbling before a world-splitting brilliance—like tearing through the night to greet the sunrise. The world transformed.
The entire crowd stood frozen, following Ronan's "steps," lifting their faces toward the glow of hope.
Dazzling, searing golden sunlight erupted, spilling recklessly across their skin, so hot their bodies couldn't help but tremble.
The melody softened, easing through an eight-beat transition. Ronan lunged forward, planting himself at the stage's edge—legs apart, hands gripping the mic stand. His towering figure radiated a commanding awe, drawing every eye in the room. Then, with his right hand raised high, he ignited the crowd.
Swish! Swish! Swish!
Swish! Swish! Swish!
Buster was the first to thrust his right hand up, tears brimming as he stared at the figure onstage. He didn't glance at the others—just locked onto Ronan. He saw it again—that light.
A dazzling, radiant light.
Warmth and resilience fused into the melody, carried by his voice. It was like Icarus from Greek myth, flapping wax-sealed wings toward the sun, only to shatter too close to its heat. Yet, knowing his fate, he soared without regret, resolute in his flight. In that fleeting moment, Buster felt his soul quiver.
He truly felt that immense strength, leaning in wholeheartedly. "Come on! Come on! Sing like soldiers! Come on! Come on! It's not over yet! Everyone's chasing the light!"
A cry from the heavens, a call from the cosmos.
So, Buster raised his left hand too, joining the right, then clapped them together, rediscovering the earlier rhythm.
Clap! Clap! Clap! Clap!
One measure. Two measures.
Buster didn't care about the crowd around him—he just felt it, so he did it.
He didn't expect it to spark a chain reaction. It started in the standing rock zone, then rippled across the Verizon Center. One by one, people joined in, clapping along, their surging blood breaking through the chains of reason.
A hundred.
A thousand.
Three thousand.
Five thousand.
Clap! Clap! Clap! Clap!
The arena thundered with a tidal wave of rhythmic claps. They united with Ollie, pounding out the beat with their hands, a roaring surge that fused the entire crowd into one heartbeat, one spirit.
Ten thousand.
A true, full-house roar—no exceptions. They let go completely, diving headfirst into the melody.
Ronan felt that power too. He stepped forward again, belting out to the sea of faces—
"Come on! Come on! Sing like soldiers!"
"Come on! Come on! It's not over yet!"
Clap! Clap! Clap! Clap!
The massive clapping synced with Ronan's voice, pushing the energy past its peak into something even greater. The booming waves pulsed against their eardrums. Then, Ronan turned, signaling the band. The melody began to fade.
First the guitar, then the bass. After an eight-beat stretch, the drums dropped out too. All that remained was the crowd's ten thousand claps, surging alone. Ollie, Maxim, and Cliff ditched their instruments, joining in with their hands.
Clap! Clap! Clap! Clap!
"You know, everyone's chasing the light."
Ronan's voice wove through the crowd's rhythm, laced with the thrill of a soul burned bare, wild and free. Then, all the noise and chaos settled, pooling at his lips into a soft, soaring smile—an exquisite curve.
Clap! Clap! Clap! Clap!
The clapping ebbed like a receding tide. One eight-beat, two, then a long stretch of silence. On the third, the crowd finally lowered their hands, eyes still shining as they gazed at the stage.
Huff, huff.
Heavy breathing swirled through the arena, but no other sound broke the stillness. The crowd watched Ronan intently, waiting—though for what, they weren't sure. As the heat and passion cooled, Ronan finally moved.
"You know…" he murmured into the mic, soft and unaccompanied. His lone voice filled the space, tender and captivating. The quiet after the storm settled their hearts, like a whisper brushing their ears.
"Everyone's chasing…"
His voice faded into the void.
Note 1: "Chasing the Light" (Looking-For-Some-Light — Colony House)