CHAPTER 61

CHAPTER 61

EZRA

“St. Maria's Parish!”

The auditorium exploded in cheers. Lily screamed so loud I think I lost part of my hearing. Jordan threw her arms around Ryan, both of them yelling, “WE DID IT!” while Genevieve smiled—just slightly—but that tiny smile was worth a thousand confetti cannons.

I turned to look at Dorian.

He wasn’t smiling. Not exactly. But his eyes—warm and proud—found mine, and that was enough to make my stomach flip.

“We made it?” Lily gasped, looking around like she needed confirmation.

Jordan snorted. “Yes, unless they meant another St. Maria's.”

Ryan raised his hands. “Fifth place, baby! We’re in the finals!”

Genevieve clapped her gloved hands once—elegant, controlled. “Excellent work, everyone. A commendable performance.”

The MC walked back to the stage, voice booming again.

“Congratulations to our top five! But before you all run off to celebrate, it’s time for a special announcement.”

Everyone fell silent. The air felt… loaded.

“The final round,” he said dramatically, “will not be a repeat performance. Each team will be given a prompt—a Bible verse—and must compose an original song inspired by it. Lyrics and music. You’ll perform it on the last day.”

The whole place erupted in murmurs.

“Compose?” Ryan muttered. “Like… from scratch?”

Lily’s eyes widened. “We only have—what—two days?”

Jordan groaned. “This is suicide.”

Genevieve folded her arms. “It’s a test of creativity and faith, not convenience.”

“Of course you’d say that,” Lily whispered, and I elbowed her before Genevieve heard.

Dorian leaned toward us, calm as always. “You can do this. You’re ready.”

I swallowed. “Compose a song…”

Jordan nudged me. “Ezra.”

“What?”

She smiled. “You know we’re all looking at you, right?”

Lily grinned. “Yeah, lyric boy. You’re our secret weapon.”

My mouth went dry. “Me?”

Ryan nodded. “You’ve got the voice, the brain, and the whole poetic, tortured artist vibe. It’s literally your moment.”

I stared at them all. “You guys—”

“—believe in you,” Lily finished, soft.

My throat tightened. “Oh God.”

“Exactly,” Ryan said. “Ask Him for help.”

I laughed, half nervous, half touched. “You guys are insane.”

“Yeah,” Jordan said. “But you love us.”

The bus ride back was weirdly quiet. Everyone was buzzing with excitement but also terrified. Meanwhile, I just sat by the window, notebook open, lyrics spinning in my head faster than I could write.

The rain outside blurred the lights, and words started forming like prayers.

‘Though I walk through the valley of shadows...’

‘You are my song when silence falls…’

Nothing made sense yet, but I couldn’t stop.

“Ezra?” Lily’s voice came softly beside me. “You good?”

I nodded absently, still writing.

She sighed. “He’s gone full composer mode.”

Across the aisle, Dorian watched us for a moment. I could feel it—the weight of his gaze. But before he could say anything, Jordan's voice cut in.

“Leave him, Father,” she said. “He’s thinking.”

Dorian hesitated, then nodded. “Right.”

I didn’t even hear them. My world had shrunk to pen and paper, ink and melody. I could see the words in my head like flashes of light. I didn’t want to lose them.

When we reached the mansion, everyone was chattering about dinner and showers and what they’d wear for the final performance.

“Ezra, come eat!” Lily called as I slipped away.

“In a bit,” I said without looking up.

Jordan frowned. “You sure?”

I nodded. “Yeah. I just need to… figure this out.”

Ryan shrugged. “Genius at work.”

Lily whispered, “Or manic at work.”

I smiled faintly, not even denying it.

Then I went straight to our room, closed the door quietly—and locked it.

The silence hit like a wave.

No laughter. No footsteps. No one asking me what rhymes with ‘grace’ or whether ‘hallelujah’ was too cliché. Just me, a notebook, and a head that wouldn’t stop spinning.

I sat on the bed and read the verse we’d drawn earlier.

Isaiah 40:31.

‘But those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength; they will soar on wings like eagles…’

I ran my fingers through my hair. “Soar like eagles, huh,” I murmured. “No pressure.”

Still, I started humming. Low, quiet. A rhythm came. Then a melody.

Minutes turned to hours.

I scribbled, crossed out, wrote again.

Every word felt like a confession.

Every note felt like a prayer.

And for once, none of it was about Dorian. It was just me. My faith. My voice.

I didn’t notice the time until the sky outside went dark.

Someone knocked lightly. Dorian’s voice. “Ezra?”

My heart jumped. I didn’t answer.

“Ezra,” he said again, softer this time. “You should rest.”

“I’m fine,” I said, voice tight.

There was a pause, then quiet footsteps retreating.

I dropped my pen and pressed a hand over my face. I wasn’t fine. My fingers were trembling, my mind a mess—but the lyrics finally made sense.