Submission (#513) Approved

The Faultline Stage was a jagged marvel of stone and sound, carved into one of Layer Two’s towering spires like it had burst forth from the earth just to scream. Red-orange crystal veins throbbed underfoot, synced perfectly with the pulse of the music playing on the stage just before hers. The crowd’s energy rolled and crackled in the air, thick as storm humidity. This was where reputations were either made or broken.
Backstage, Nadira leaned against a jutting basalt wall, arms folded, her molten red and deep plum scales catching every shifting color of the stage lights like oil on water. Her glowing fins shimmered faintly with teal bioluminescence, rippling with anticipation. Acid cyan liquid dripped lazily from the curve of her wings and shoulders, her elemental aura reacting to her rising adrenaline. She was calm—on the surface. Inside, her heart was doing backflips. But she liked that feeling.
The sentient goo-creature attached to her tail blinked lazily, its wide maw bobbing as it peered out from behind her leg, radiating what could only be described as dog-like mischief. It nudged her ankle, perhaps sensing her focus tightening like a coiled string. Nadira clicked her tongue at it with a grin. “Don’t you start. I already know the drill.”
It was her first time playing a big show outside of Layer Five’s chaos-ridden storm pits. The Summer Daze Festival was like the Olympians’ Peak—only for musicians instead of weather warriors. And Nadira wasn’t just here to show up. She was here to dominate.
Her claws adjusted the strap of her battle-worn guitar, its jagged body lined with bite marks—some from rowdy performances, others from rough landings during flight-assisted stage dives. She could hear the crowd beyond the curtain now, a low, humming sea of voices and excitement. Some were here for the cute idols, some for the synthpop stars. Some like her were here for thunder.
The stage manager jogged over, headset askew. “Nadira, you’re up next—sound tech’s good to go, you ready?”
Nadira’s sharp teeth flashed in a smirk, her eyes glowing with an almost electric glee. She cracked her knuckles and gave her tail a shake, sending a spatter of acid sparkles to the ground. “Oh, I’ve been ready since before this stage was even built.” With a final flick of her wings and a slap to her tail-friend for luck, she stepped forward, her boots striking the stone with purpose. Behind her, the stage lights flared. The shadows shifted.
The crowd buzzed like a hive ready to erupt, every eye fixed on the center of the stage as a sharp electric chord split the silence. Smoke hissed up from vents carved into the spire, curling around the jagged rock like mist on a battlefield. A spotlight flared—then shattered into prismatic shards of color as Nadira exploded into view, riding the feedback of her first strum like it was a lightning strike.
She stomped forward with a wide-legged stance, wings flared high, fins glowing brighter with every beat of the drums thundering in behind her. Her guitar roared like a beast unchained, the jagged, distortion-heavy chords rising and falling like crashing waves.
“Layer Five representin’—let’s tear the roof off this spike!” she howled into the mic, voice gritty and wild, each word punctuated by sparks of acidic mist leaping from her wings. The crowd roared in return, a tidal wave of voices rising to meet her. Even those who hadn’t known her name five minutes ago were chanting it now—Nadira, Nadira, Nadira.
She played like her claws were on fire, every solo a bolt of sound hurled into the night sky. Her tail writhed beside her, the goo-creature now mimicking air-drums, flailing in adorable rhythm with the beat. Nadira cracked a grin mid-riff and gave it a quick headbutt of affection before launching into a scream that climbed into a feral crescendo, her iridescent scales catching every light like refracted chaos.
Above, sparks rained from the spire’s carved arches. Below, the earth quaked with bass. Her performance wasn’t clean. It wasn’t polished. It was alive. With every chord, she poured in her storms—the ones she was born in, the ones she still carried inside. The part of her that used to watch Olympians from the crags of Layer Five now stood center stage, blowing the thunder back through the crowd. And they were loving it. She didn’t perform to impress but to command.
Halfway through her set, a daring fan climbed one of the side pillars to get closer. Security started forward, but Nadira saw them first. She cackled into her mic. “Hey, let ’em climb! Let ’em feel what it’s like to chase the clouds!” The fan cheered, almost losing their grip—but Nadira was already back to playing, hair wild, marks glowing like sirens. Her music didn’t just invite chaos. It fed on it.
And as she struck the final chord of her opener, the lights burst wide, casting the entire stage in a molten crimson and teal glow. Nadira stood center, breathing hard, wings half-folded as acid dripped softly from her scales onto the cracked stone beneath her. No one clapped at first, they were too stunned. Then—like a lightning delay—an eruption of cheers. Stomps. Screams. Even chants from the other spires. She didn’t just take the stage. She claimed the whole dang summit.
The storm Nadira summoned didn’t fade when her last chord hit. The energy lingered like static in the air, clinging to every scale and spike in the crowd. Some stood frozen in disbelief. Others howled her name into the night. Her tail, wild-eyed and wagging like a beast who just won a brawl, bounced in excited loops behind her, high-fiving fans close enough to the edge of the stage.
Nadira grinned, fangs flashing beneath sweat-slicked bangs. “You want one more!?” she shouted, her voice hoarse but still wicked with fire. The crowd answered with a wall of sound that nearly blew her fins back. She didn’t wait for the light crew. Didn’t need the pyrotechnics. She lifted her clawed hand high and strummed her guitar into a shriek so sharp it made the air tremble. A low growl of bass rose behind her, summoned from her makeshift band of festival musicians—each handpicked hours ago in a blur of improvisation. They were barely held together by practice, but Nadira made them feel like war generals following a battle cry.
“Alright,” she purred, eyes gleaming as her wings unfolded like twin blades. “Let’s crack the sky one more time.” And just like that, they launched into a song that hadn’t even been written—just felt. Pure improvisation, born of adrenaline and ego and raw lightning. Nadira danced with her instrument, twirling across the stage as her tail bounced beside her in backup rhythm. She made eye contact with fans in the front row and winked, mouthed the lyrics with that signature cocky smirk.
Halfway through the song, she paused for just a moment—long enough to catch her breath and watch the sea of Tatsukoi below, scales and fins shimmering in every color imaginable, eyes wide, mouths open in awe or mid-song. These weren’t just fans. They were part of the storm now. For the briefest, most sacred moment—Nadira let herself take it in.
This was her Summit. Not just of music, not just of rock—but of everything she had ever fought, bled, and screamed for. From the howling gales of Layer Five to the echoes of this night in Layer Two—this was her peak.
As the final notes spiraled upward into the abyssal sky, Nadira leapt off a speaker stack, landed in a crouch, and dragged her claws across the stone with one final hiss of feedback. The lights dimmed. The crowd exploded. She rose slowly, bathed in the afterglow of her own storm.
“You’ve been electrifying,” she rasped, licking her fangs. “And I’ve got your names carved into my thunder.”
She tossed her pick into the crowd—one lucky fan catching it mid-air with a squeal—and strutted offstage without looking back, tail-blob flopping after her like a victorious sidekick. The Summer Daze Festival would never forget the night it nearly got blown off the spire by Nadira's insane rock concert, a mix both preparation and improvisation.

Reward	Amount
Gold	15
Pop (Rockatiel)	1
Summer Daze Music Festival - Design and MYO Raffles (Raffle Ticket)	1