Chapter 2.5: Strings Cut Short

Chapter 2.5: Strings Cut Short

Amara’s love for costumes and characters didn’t spring from nowhere. It came from a man who once held the world in rapture with nothing more than a bow and strings—her father.

He was a fama violonisto (famous violinist), known in Los Angeles and beyond for concerts that drew packed halls. When he played, audiences swore they could feel entire stories unravel in each note: sonĝoj (dreams) rising, doloro (pain) falling, amo (love) lingering in the air long after the last chord faded.

To Amara, he wasn’t just a musician—he was proof that art could conquer silence.

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The Robbery

It happened on an ordinary evening, in downtown Los Angeles. He had finished rehearsal, tucked his violin carefully into its case, and walked toward the car.

The police report was blunt: a robbery gone wrong. A thief with a knife. A struggle. One sudden tranĉo (stab).

By the time help arrived, it was too late.

The violinist’s hands—the same hands that had commanded symphonies—were still. His voice, once alive through strings, was silenced.

For Amara, the news shattered her world. She was sixteen. Too young to carry that kind of grief, too old to believe the world was still fair.

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The Silent Years

After the funeral, Amara drifted. She avoided the violin. She avoided concerts. Music itself became fantomo (a ghost). Where once her house echoed with practice and laughter, now there was only silence.

Cosplay entered her life during those years of absence. At first it was a distraction—fabric instead of strings, conventions instead of concerts. But gradually it became a lifeline, a way to keep her father’s spirit alive without touching the violin he had left behind.

She realized that costumes, like music, could tell stories without words. Every kostumo (costume) was a stage, every convention a concert. She wasn’t playing notes, but she was weaving characters, building performances through cloth and color.

Still, the wound remained. Sometimes at night she whispered to herself in Esperanto, a language she had discovered through online art communities:

“Kial la mondo estas tiel kruela?” (Why is the world so cruel?)

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The Birthday Shadows

So when her best friend planned the outrageous birthday stadium celebration, Amara felt a strange mix of guilt and excitement. How could she accept joy when grief still lived in her bones?

But part of her father lived in her too. He had believed in performance as a bridge between souls, in arto (art) as a weapon against despair.

And somewhere deep down, Amara felt that stepping into this night—into lights, costumes, and spectacle—was what he would have wanted.

She didn’t know yet that destiny was waiting in the form of a silent harlequin. A man who, like her father, spoke without words. A man whose language was not notes on a violin, but gestures in the air.

For Amara, the strings had been cut short once. She could not imagine that they were about to be tied again—this time, to a future more dangerous and electric than any stage her father had ever played.

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✨ Esperanto Glossary (Bridge Chapter)

Fama violonisto = Famous violinist

Sonĝoj = Dreams

Doloro = Pain

Amo = Love

Tranĉo = Stab

Fantomo = Ghost

Kostumo = Costume

Kial la mondo estas tiel kruela? = Why is the world so cruel?

Arto = Art