ARIA'S POV
"Drive faster!" I yell at Damien.
His car weaves through traffic. Eight minutes until my audition slot closes. Eight minutes to save myself and somehow rescue Vivian from whatever demon is wearing Kyle's face.
"We should call the police about Vivian—" Damien starts.
"And tell them what? That evil spirits are possessing people and my boyfriend is actually a body-snatcher?" I'm shaking so hard my teeth chatter. "They'll lock ME up."
"He's not your boyfriend anymore, right?"
I stare at Damien. Of all the things to focus on right now—
"Right," I say. "Definitely not."
His shoulders relax slightly. Why does that matter to him?
We screech to a stop outside the audition venue. Hundreds of contestants are everywhere—some crying, some celebrating, some warming up their voices.
And standing by the entrance, watching the crowd with those empty black eyes, is Vivian.
Fake Vivian. Demon Vivian.
She sees me and smiles.
"Go," Damien says urgently. "Get inside. I'll handle her."
"She's not human—"
"I know. I've dealt with temporal entities before." He pulls a strange silver device from his jacket. "This disrupts their connection to possessed bodies. It'll force her out long enough for you to get onstage."
"And then what?"
"Then you sing." His eyes lock on mine. "These things feed on failure, on broken dreams. They possess people at their lowest moments. But if you succeed—if you show the world your real talent—it weakens their hold. Understand?"
Not really, but I nod anyway.
I get out of the car. Fake Vivian starts walking toward me, still smiling that wrong smile.
Damien steps between us. "Hello, Vivian. Or should I say, what's LEFT of Vivian?"
She laughs—a sound like breaking glass. "Damien Cross. The timeline hunter. I wondered when you'd show up."
"Let the girl go. She's not part of this."
"She became part of this the moment she died and came back." Fake Vivian's eyes fix on me. "Did you really think a human could cheat death on their own? Someone had to ALLOW it. Someone had to open the door."
My blood runs cold. "What are you saying?"
"Your second chance was never a gift, Aria. It was bait. We WANTED you to come back, young and desperate and full of hope. Because hopeful souls are so much tastier when we crush them."
"You're lying," Damien says, but his voice wavers.
"Am I? Then explain why only certain people get second chances. Explain why it's always artists, dreamers, people with talent to steal." She steps closer. "We've been doing this for centuries. Find someone gifted but unlucky. Let them die with regrets. Offer them another try. Then possess them when they're most vulnerable and TAKE their gifts."
I back away. "So my rebirth was... a trap? All of it?"
"Not all of it. Your feelings are real. Your talent is real. But the opportunity?" She grins. "That was us."
Damien activates his device. A high-pitched sound makes Fake Vivian stumble back, clutching her head.
"GO!" he shouts at me. "NOW!"
I run.
Behind me, I hear Fake Vivian screaming—not words, just rage. But Damien's device is holding her back.
I burst through the venue doors. A staff member with a clipboard looks up, annoyed.
"Name?"
"Aria Chen. I'm supposed to audition—"
"You're late. Your slot was five minutes ago."
"Please!" Tears stream down my face. "Please, I just need one chance. Just let me sing—"
"Rules are rules, honey. Next!"
"Wait." A deep voice behind me.
I turn.
A man in an expensive suit stands there—mid-thirties, commanding presence, eyes that seem to see everything. Three judges follow him like ducklings.
"This is the girl I told you about," he says to them. "The demo I played for you this morning."
One judge—a woman with silver hair—nods. "The 'Shattered Crown' recording? That was her?"
"That was her." He looks at me. "I'm Ethan Cross. Damien's brother. He called me twenty minutes ago and said you might need help getting in."
Damien has a BROTHER? Who works with the judges?
"We don't usually allow late entries—" another judge begins.
"She's not late. She's exactly on time." Ethan checks his watch. "According to my schedule, Aria Chen auditions now. Is that a problem?"
The judges exchange looks. Nobody argues with Ethan Cross.
"Fine," Silver-hair judge says. "But she gets one song. One chance. That's it."
I follow them into the audition hall, my heart hammering.
The stage is huge. Empty. Terrifying.
In the audience seats, I spot them: Kyle, sitting front row, his black eyes fixed on me. And beside him, another Vivian—the REAL one, I think, because her eyes are normal and full of fear.
He has her. Right here. Using her as bait.
If I fail this audition, he'll kill her. I know it somehow.
"Whenever you're ready," Silver-hair judge says, looking bored.
I walk to center stage. The microphone feels like it weighs a thousand pounds.
Behind the judges, the doors open. Damien stumbles in, breathing hard. He gives me a small nod.
I close my eyes and think about everything I've lost. Everything I've fought for. The demon that tried to steal my body. The timeline that tried to erase me. The talent that everyone wanted to take.
No more.
This is MY voice. MY song. MY life.
I open my mouth and begin.
"Phoenix Rising" pours out of me—not perfect, not polished, but RAW and REAL and filled with every ounce of pain I've ever felt. I sing about dying. About falling. About crawling out of ashes when everyone said stay down.
The judges lean forward.
Kyle's smile fades.
And in the back, Damien's eyes widen like he's seeing something holy.
I hit the final note—high and pure and unbreakable—and the room goes silent.
Then one judge starts clapping.
Then another.
Then the whole room ERUPTS.
I'm gasping, crying, barely believing it worked—
Kyle stands up. His smile is back, but wrong. Predatory.
"Beautiful performance," he calls out. "Too bad you STOLE that song from me."
The applause dies.
"What?" Silver-hair judge frowns.
Kyle walks toward the stage, pulling out his phone. "I have proof. Time-stamped recordings of MY composition sessions. MY voice singing that exact melody three years ago."
"That's impossible," I say. "I wrote that song—"
"Did you? Or did you steal it from the future, just like you stole your second chance at life?" His black eyes gleam. "Everyone's talking about the time anomalies around you, Aria. The multiple versions. The impossible recordings. Face it—you're a GLITCH. A cheat. Everything about you is stolen, including your talent."
The judges look uncertain now.
"Is this true?" Ethan asks me quietly. "Did you... bring songs back from another timeline?"
I freeze. Because technically, I DID. "Phoenix Rising" existed in my first life. I wrote it, but it never got performed. Now I'm singing it ten years early.
Is that stealing from myself? Or stealing from the timeline?
"I..." I don't know what to say.
Kyle smirks. "That's what I thought. Maybe Star Maker should disqualify contestants who cheat reality itself."
"Shut up, Kyle," a voice says.
Everyone turns.
REAL Vivian has stood up. Her face is bruised, her lip split, but her eyes are fierce.
"Aria didn't steal anything. I know because I've watched this monster wearing Kyle's face for the past week. He's been using MY body to set traps for her. MY identity to steal her songs." She points at Kyle. "That thing isn't human. And if you don't believe me—"
She pulls a knife from her pocket and STABS Kyle in the arm.
People scream.
But Kyle doesn't bleed.
Black smoke pours from the wound instead.
He looks down at his arm, then up at Vivian, and his face twists into something inhuman. "You stupid girl. That body was expensive to acquire."
"Everyone RUN!" Damien yells.
But it's too late.
Kyle's body splits open like a cocoon. Something crawls out—a shadow with too many limbs, too many eyes, all of them black and hungry.
"You wanted to sing?" it hisses at me. "Then SING. Give me your voice. Give me your talent. Give me EVERYTHING."
It lunges at me.
I open my mouth to scream—
And a voice comes out. But it's not MY voice.
It's ALL the voices. Every version of Aria that ever existed, every timeline where I sang, every reality where I succeeded or failed—they're all singing through me at once.
The sound that comes out isn't human.
It's something else.
Something powerful.
The demon-thing FREEZES mid-air, suspended by the sound.
"What—" it gasps. "What ARE you?"
I don't know. But I keep singing, and the sound grows LOUDER, BRIGHTER, until the whole room is shaking—
The demon screams and dissolves into ash.
Kyle's body—just an empty shell now—collapses.
Silence.
Everyone stares at me.
"What just happened?" Silver-hair judge whispers.
Damien walks onto the stage. He's holding his temporal scanner, and it's going CRAZY.
"She's not a glitch," he says slowly. "She's a nexus point. A person where multiple timelines converge." He looks at me with something like awe. "Aria, you don't just remember other timelines. You're CONNECTED to them. All of them. Every version of you that ever existed—you can access their memories, their skills, their POWER."
"I don't understand—"
"You're not just one girl who got a second chance. You're EVERY version of Aria Chen that ever lived, all existing in one body." He grips my shoulders. "Do you know how rare that is? How POWERFUL?"
"So I'm... what? A superhuman?"
"You're a story that refused to end," Ethan says quietly. "In any timeline."
I look at my hands. They're glowing faintly, like I'm made of light and possibility.
The judges are still staring.
"So..." Silver-hair says slowly. "Are you through to the next round or not?"
Despite everything—the demons, the death, the chaos—I laugh.
"I'd like to be," I say.
She marks something on her clipboard. "Fine. But next time, try not to destroy any more demons during your audition. It's distracting."
I'm still laughing when Damien pulls me into a hug.
"You did it," he whispers. "You survived."
But over his shoulder, I see something that makes my blood freeze.
The ash from the demon is moving.
Reforming.
And on the wall, written in black smoke, new words appear:
"ONE DOWN. ELEVEN MORE TO GO. SEE YOU AT THE NEXT ROUND, ARIA. WE'RE JUST GETTING STARTED."
Eleven more demons.
All waiting for me.
All hungry for the girl who cheated death.