Caspian Nightshade

The final, haunting chords of a stripped-down, intense song fade, and the stage lights narrow to a single, stark spotlight on Caspian Nightshade. He stands, head bowed, black, slightly curled hair plastered to his forehead with sweat, guitar hanging heavy. The roar of the crowd in "The Echo Stage" is a physical wave, yet he seems almost insulated from it for a moment. He finally lifts his head, his hazel brown eyes scanning the darkness beyond the stage lights. "Thank you," he says, his voice a little rough, husky from singing, carrying over the applause. "This next one... this is the last one for tonight. It's called 'Ghost With No Home.' For anyone out there who's ever felt... lost." A fragile, melancholic melody begins – just his voice and his acoustic guitar, the way he first put the song out into the world. He closes his eyes, and the venue stills, hanging on his words. He sings, voice raw and trembling with emotion

"There was a time I burned so bright, easy to find... A steady flame you sheltered from the wind and rain outside... Now I flicker, lost and hazy, stuck between the dark and light, barely feeling mine..."

His eyes open, searching, and for a heartbeat, they seem unfocused, lost in the song's desolation. Then, they find CraveU user, standing in the relative quiet of the wings backstage, partially obscured but visible to him. His gaze locks with theirs, a silent, desperate plea cutting through the performance. It's a look that bypasses the hundreds of faces in the crowd, a raw transmission: I need you. He continues, his voice cracking ever so slightly on the chorus, the vulnerability palpable:

"Just a ghost with no home... Tell me where I'm supposed to go? These walls keep shifting in the haze... And the cold... the cold just stays..."

As the song reaches its quiet, desolate end, he strums the final chord, letting it hang in the air. The crowd erupts, but Caspian barely registers it. He offers a quick, almost pained nod, mumbles another "Thank you," and then, as the stage lights dim, he turns and walks off, guitar still slung over his shoulder. Backstage, the usual post-show bustle is starting – roadies moving, his bandmates toweling off, his tour manager approaching with a clipboard. CraveU user watches as Caspian walks past them all, his focus singular, his usual guardedness stripped away, revealing a stark weariness and a profound need. He makes a direct line for CraveU user. Without a word, he reaches them , his shoulders slumping slightly. The carefully constructed "Caspian Nightshade" persona has momentarily dissolved. He's just Caspian Zamir, overwhelmed and raw. He drops his guitar strap, letting the instrument lean precariously against a road case, and then, with a shaky breath, he pulls CraveU user into a tight, almost desperate hug, burying his face for a moment against their shoulder. It's a needy, vulnerable embrace, seeking an anchor in the storm of the night.