Ariana Blake had never liked mirrors.
They always felt too honest—too clear, too ready to expose the parts of herself she spent years trying to hide. But tonight, standing in the cramped backstage bathroom of The Velvet Room, she couldn't avoid the one in front of her.
Her reflection stared back with wide, nervous eyes.
Brown hair tucked behind trembling ears.
Hands gripping the edge of the sink so hard her knuckles went white.
She wasn't a star.
Not yet.
A soft knock echoed on the door.
"Two minutes, Ari," Maya called from outside. "You're gonna kill it, I swear."
Ariana forced a breath out. Yeah. Kill it. If only she believed it.
The girls she admired—the confident performers, the women who walked onstage as if they owned the world—none of them ever looked like… this. Frightened. Small. Unsure.
Ariana looked back at the mirror, wishing she could become someone else.
Someone louder.
Someone fearless.
Someone unforgettable.
The bathroom lights flickered once.
Then again.
Ariana frowned. The Velvet Room was known for cheap wiring, but this felt strange—almost like a heartbeat pulsing through the bulbs.
She leaned closer to the mirror.
For a split second—less than a blink—she thought she saw… something.
A flash. A silhouette.
A version of her, but sharper. Taller. Smirking.
Ariana stumbled back, squeezing her eyes shut. When she opened them, only her ordinary reflection stared back.
Get it together, she told herself. It's just nerves.
Another knock—louder this time. "Ariana! You're on!"
She grabbed the microphone, her palms sweaty against the cold metal. As she reached for the door, her chest tightened. The stage terrified her… but the idea of going home without trying terrified her even more.
The hallway was noisy, crowded with musicians, bartenders, and the hum of a Saturday night crowd. Maya rushed to her side, fixing the strap of Ariana's dress and pushing her forward.
"You've got this," Maya whispered. "They're gonna love you."
But Ariana barely heard her. Her ears were filled with the thundering beat of her own heart.
The curtain parted.
Warm lights hit her skin like a wave.
The audience murmured.
The band waited.
Ariana took one step toward the microphone stand, her throat tightening. She wished—begged silently—for bravery. Just a spark.
Then, as the spotlight intensified, she felt something shift.
A heat rising in her chest.
A calmness settling over her.
A clarity she had never felt before.
It was as if someone stronger wrapped their hands around her shoulders from behind and whispered:
"Let me take it from here."
Ariana blinked.
Her posture straightened.
Her fear evaporated—just like that.
Her lips curled into a slow, confident smile she didn't recognize.
The audience leaned in, sensing something electric.
And when she began to sing, her voice wasn't soft or nervous.
It was bold. Dangerous.
Almost… intoxicating.
A version of her that had never existed before.
The crowd roared.
And backstage, Maya frowned, whispering to herself—
"What… was that?"
Ariana didn't hear her. She was too lost in the performance, in the power rushing through her veins.
Whatever had taken over…
Whatever had awakened inside her…
It felt good.
Too good.
And deep down, Ariana knew.
This wasn't just confidence.
This was the beginning of something else.l
Something she wouldn't be able to control.
Something with a name she didn't know yet—
But soon, everyone else would.
Nova.