Page 13 of Vengeful Melodies

Ourgrief.

Oursalvation.

The song that gave us our name—Heaven’s Guilt.

That night… I nearly didn’t make it.

I remember the cold porcelain. The blood. The ache that told me I wasn’t meant to last much longer.

Alix found me in the dorm bathroom.

He didn’t just save me. He became mybrother.

Since then, I’ve learned to let it out. The pain. The chaos. The guilt.

Not by bottling it—but by bleeding it into the mic.

Every show, every night.

And I know someone out there, some broken soul in the crowd, is healing with me.

That’s why Ican’tquit.

It wouldn’t just bemylife I’m giving up.

It’d betheirs, too.

I rub a hand over my face, throat raw. The amps cool around us as we pack up in silence.

“Alright,” I finally say. “Let’s run the rest of the set. Bright and early tomorrow.”

My British accent slips out—stern, sharp. Too much like my father.

I cringe. Bash snorts.

“Sounds golden,” Alix mutters, adjusting the kick pedal.

“Bash kicks off the next one,” I say, voice back in leader mode. “Then Death’s Peace. The Guilty of the Wicked after that.”

We grind through the rest of rehearsal until we’re spent.

One guitar gets sacrificed to the gods of stage rage.

Worth it.

Back in my suite, my muscles scream, but my mind is finally quiet.

I crawl into bed, pull up my audiobook, and let darkness take me.

Holly Black’sThe Cruel Princeplays softly in my ears—

—and for the first time in weeks,

my demons fall silent.

Chapter Five

Dreya