It was a new day, hot and thick.
"Due to previous arrangements, we will now hear Reid Senior play…late."
Reid tightened his ligerature, stepping to the middle of the field. His piece was ready, after a quick run through at home, he drew a deep breath and played for Cornett. The Shadows were watching from the sidelines and Bandopia from the opposite end zone. Silence fell over them all as Reid played, every ear bending at his blooming talent. Most intent and alert was Harp, who listened with complete awe. Watching the thin, pale Reid play with what little strength he had left broke her heart, and a tear slid to the collar of her black cloak. The melody fell and rose, turned and faded. With a deep sigh of fatigue, Reid pulled the mouthpiece from his worn lips and waited. Nothing—not a whisper. Harp began to clap, very slowly, but strong enough to ignite an applause from the Bandopians. The Shadows looked at her in shock, not sure what her tactic was. It was her own pure emotion, and the Great Ones gave a standing ovation. There, in their cold souls, they realized the hurt they had caused. It was quick, it was deep, and most of all it was all musicians present. From inside the steel prison, Jazz wept. The Head raised his hands to quiet them but the crowds rushed the center field. Reid was embraced by the Bandopians, Sal and Hunter being the first to reach the tired performer.
"We officially declare this war to be over. Victory is in peace." As the throng split, Harp approached Reid with a newfound respect. The Shadows held back, but she didn't care. She extended a hand with a faint smile.
"It was beautiful," she sighed. He leaned on Hunter's side, still weak from not playing for so long. Slowly and reluctantly, the Shadows began to retreat. Harp turned back to them, wiping at her eyes and watching them linger enough for her to see. "I have to go…"
"Come back," Reid managed to stutter. She smiled and ran back to her band. Sal shook his head.
"Not an hour ago they wanted to tear us apart…"
"Music is but universal apology," Mellody sobbed happily.
"That was no apology; that was a masterpiece." The Bandopians shared a lost laugh and dried their tears. Suddenly, a freshman's anxious cries came from the back.
"Help! Help! The Trombones have finished Cornett's trumpet, but he's not responding!" What little color left in Reid's face drained. He frantically pushed through his friends and sprinted homeward. Like an unruly avalanche, the band followed.