The Celestia Auditorium was an architectural marvel, with its sleek lines and majestic curves that seemed to mimic the flow of music itself. The walls were made of a mesmerizing material that shimmered and shifted colors, much to the delight of the onlookers passing by.

  Julie and Kitturian were granted entry and escorted to the main concert hall, where Glissandria was in the middle of a lively rehearsal.

  The stage was alive with motion, each part seemingly at odds with the others, yet all working together toward some inexplicable harmony. Among the upright violins and polished brass, Zylari instruments glowed like fragments of a dream, their colors impossibly bright and their forms defying symmetry. The result was a harmonious blend of sound and visuals.

  Glissandria, in her striking red gown, stood out as the centerpiece of the stage. Her voice soared with the same graceful ease that a leaf does on a silent wind, dipping only to rise again - effortless and sublime.

  “Wow… pinch me,” Julie said. “We’re really here, right in the middle of the magic.”

  “Eyes on the job, not on the idol,” Kitturian said. “We’re investigators, not admirers. Leave feelings at the door.”

  “Right, yes, of course.”

  As the last chord faded away, Glissandria announced a break. The band members dispersed, and Glissandria disappeared backstage.

  “Ah, here you are,” a voice called from behind Julie and Kitturian.

  It was Vyzar, looking just as on the video call. Only when seen in person, he was a touch less imposing—perhaps a trick of the camera angles at play, Julie thought.

  “Apologies for the wait,” he said. “But now you’ve seen genius in progress! That’s worth something, no?”

  “Yes,” Julie said. “Absolutely.”

  “Right, enough standing around,” Vyzar said. “To Glissandria’s dressing room. You can ask your questions there. We’re wasting time.”

  With that, Vyzar led the way through the bustling backstage—crew members rushing back and forth, and the occasional musician scurrying with sheet music in hand—and to Glissandria’s dressing room.

  “Come on in,” Glissandria called from inside.

  As they stepped inside, Julie felt a flutter of nerves in her stomach. Glissandria was seated gracefully at her vanity, and up close, Julie could see the subtle details of her appearance that were lost in pictures and videos.

  Her skin was a clear, luminous blue that brightened at the bridge of her nose and along her throat. Her thin lips were set in an unwavering line, and her golden hair fell in exact parallel strands past her ears.

  “Mr. Kitturian has arrived,” Vyzar announced. “With his…?”

  “Julie,” she said. “I’m his assistant.”

  Oh, this is marvelous! And with such youthful energy, too! Change keeps the world spinning in new directions, doesn’t it?

  “Would you look at this - a human assistant,” Glissandria said. “And so young and full of potential. Oh, seeing everyone work together like this, it’s exactly the kind of progress that keeps our world spinning in new directions.”

  “Yes, Miss Glissandria,” Julie said. “And you are a great inspiration to many.”

  “Oh darling, you’re making me blush! Thank you both for bringing such wonderful energy here. Please, make yourselves comfortable. I hope Vyzar caught you up on our little situation?”

  “Yes, but your perspective might shed some light on the details he missed,” Kitturian said.

  “Of course,” Glissandria said. “Well, for the past few weeks, someone’s been sending these nasty little notes my way. At first, they were the usual ‘we don’t like your music’ type thing - you know how some people can be about artistic expression! But lately they’ve gotten much more personal. And this past week, they started talking about ruining the show and - this is what really breaks my heart - threatening my beautiful audience.”

  “How exactly were these threats delivered to you?” Kitturian asked.

  “Through the tube system. Written on paper, with ink.”

  The tube system was a modern marvel, allowing for quick delivery of mail and packages through a network of underground tubes connecting different parts of the city. Another Zylari invention that had revolutionized everyday life for humans as well.

  “Physical letters? A classic method to dodge digital detection,” Kitturian said. “May I have a look at these threats?”

  This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

  “Oh, absolutely,” Glissandria said. “I’ve held onto the latest ones. The rest? Safely handed over to the authorities, of course.”

  “The latest threats! THOSE are our concern,” Vyzar said.

  “Ideally, we’d examine all of them,” Kitturian said. “But fine, let’s pretend the recent ones are the only ones that matter.”

  Glissandria reached into her vanity and produced two letters, which she handed over to Kitturian. He read the first one aloud without further ado:

  "Dearest Glissandria,

  You, at the Celestial Auditorium, bathed in the brilliance... a vision, undoubtedly. Yet, the brightest of lights, they do cast the deepest of shadows, don't they? Not every gaze upon you is filled with, shall we say, pure admiration. Some whispers carry a different tune, a discordant note amidst the applause.

  This grand concert, this performance at the Auditorium... it's more than it seems. Like a, a meticulously set table where the centerpiece hides something... unsettling. Dangers, perhaps unseen, may be closer than your nearest admirer.

  Certain impressions, they linger. A particular scent, for instance... like the memory of warmth, long after the fire is reduced to embers.

  Do be wary, Glissandria. Not every shadow conceals a friendly face, eager for an autograph. The stage is set, but for what, exactly? This concert may prove to be a most… unforgettable performance. I fear for its safety, and yours.

  With Utmost, if Inarticulate, Concern,

  A Worried Observer."

  Kitturian’s eyebrow quirked as he read the letter, but he remained silent. He then opened the second one:

  "Dear Glissandria,

  Your voice, a truly remarkable instrument, it is. It soars, it captivates, it goes quite a long way. Further than the furthest seat in the theatre.

  This Celestial Auditorium concert, a grand affair, undoubtedly. A milestone, as they say. But, much like a seemingly innocent puddle on a country lane, one must tread carefully. I've been listening. Not just to the high notes and the trills, but to the bits in between. The quiet bits. And those silences are like the calm before a loud thunderstorm, if you take my meaning.

  They suggest a certain tension. A feeling that this concert will attract more than just polite applause. It might draw something a bit less welcome, a bit more disruptive. It may be not safe at all.

  Do be frightfully careful, Miss Glissandria.

  A Watchful, and Anxious, Admirer."

  Kitturian scrutinized each of them again and again, his eyes moving methodically over the pages. Meanwhile, Julie watched, fascinated, even as the contents of the letters caused her pulse to quicken. This was shaping up to be something far more complicated than the straightforward theft of an heirloom.

  “Evidence points to a certain proximity between Miss Glissandria and our mystery writer,” Kitturian said.

  “Yes, I had that feeling,” Glissandria said. “But how can you be so sure?”

  “‘Like the memory of warmth, long after the fire is reduced to embers.’ Clearly referring to your perfume—strong, by the way. Sandalwood? Amber? Either way, someone has been close enough to notice.”

  “And here I thought they exaggerated your abilities,” Vyzar said. “They didn’t exaggerate enough!”

  “There is more,” Kitturian said. “The writer knows your inner world, not just the outer. The tone here isn’t your average fan obsession. There’s a depth here, a personal touch. Your little note-writer has been quite close. Had a good look at you. Maybe even chatted, maybe not, but they've definitely been in your space. I’d say we’re lucky.”

  “Lucky?” Glissandria said.

  “Yes. Random threats are difficult to trace. A connection, even a slight one, narrows the possibilities. Though that’s hardly a guarantee.”

  “You don’t believe these to be empty threats, then?” Glissandria asked.

  “Nothing is ever empty. Every threat has its roots. Think back—was there a notable change or event in your life when these letters began?”

  “None that I can recall.”

  “Do any potential suspects come to mind, anyone with a personal vendetta or motive against you?”

  Glissandria held the question in the quiet for a moment, her brow furrowing slightly.

  “Well… there’s Andromion,” she said. “We used to make such beautiful music together. Total superstars, both of us! But sometimes partnerships lose their sparkle, don’t they?”

  “Yes, I remember that,” Julie said.

  The feud was indeed impossible to forget; the press had ensured that. As far as Julie was concerned, there had never been any question of siding with anyone but Glissandria.

  “Now she’s struggling to keep that spotlight while I’m… well, you know where my career is,” Glissandria continued. “Poor thing probably isn’t feeling too groovy about that whole situation, if you know what I mean.”

  Julie felt it wise to document this. Her Comlink was soon in hand, ready for action.

  “And there is one particular fan. Completely deranged,” Zylar added. “Following her everywhere, ignoring every boundary. We had security drag him away, filed restraining orders, the whole tiresome business.”

  “Ah yes,” Glissandria said. “But if he is such a devoted fan, wouldn’t he want the performance to be absolutely fabulous?”

  “People can be unpredictable,” Kitturian said. “Send me the details on these individuals, will you?”

  “Certainly. But those are the only two suspects I can think of at the moment.”

  “What about your staff? Any conflicts or incidents involving you that might be worth mentioning?”

  “The team is running like a dream,” Glissandria said. “Humans and Zylari working side by side. And I keep an eye on how everyone is getting along. I mean, there are too many of us for me to know everyone’s whole life story, but I haven’t seen any conflicts or anything. Everyone is clicking. Although, there is this one new technician who’s got me a little… hmm,” she trailed off, hesitantly. “Maybe it’s nothing! But something about his energy just feels off, you know? Keeps to himself, barely mingles with anyone… Oh, I feel terrible even bringing it up. I don’t want to start any nasty rumors.”

  “No apologies needed,” Kitturian said. “Even bad leads are useful—they confirm what’s irrelevant. Now, who’s this technician, and where can we find him?”

  “His name is Mark,” Vyzar said. “I can take you to him if you wish.”

  “Excellent,” Kitturian said. “Let’s begin.”