PREVIEW

... at The Torch, a weathered waterfront venue in Glimmerport, its walls lined with rusted nautical gear and glowing with the soft flicker of oil lamps, the air heavy with the scent of brine and old timber. The crowd's roar pulsed through a heavy canvas curtain, a torch's flame ready to blaze. His guitar hung from the leather strap, its stars catching the lamp's glow, a tether to his mom's pride. Cresthaven's blaze still glowed—Shatterpoint at seventy-four thousand listens, Flicker nearing sixty-th ...

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