She was fairly certain her fingers were bleeding. At the very least, they hurt.

  That was her own fault, somewhat, given the impairment that came with a bandaged song. If she submitted to gauze and embraced restraint, her fingertips would surely forgive her. As it was, they screamed at her on a near-daily basis by now. The skin was getting thicker, and that was a plus.

  She’d spotted budding calluses. It was a sick flavor of progress. If Faith told them of her pain, she wondered if they’d pity her. So, too, did she wonder if she was deserving of the Spirited solution that could potentially come her way. River had spent it on worse. If he refused her, the implications as to her worth would surely shatter her to pieces. Faith doubted it. She was rare, precious in more ways than one. She wished they’d treat her like it.

  “Hit it harder!”

  “I’m trying!”

  His ice was always impenetrable. Faith was instructed to perform the impossible, if breaching crystalline defenses born of an Apex was the goal. She liked to imagine it was the weight of her blows alone that mattered, pulsing warmth bubbling beneath her skin and bursting to life in full. Every shrill strike of the bow left her brilliant stars swelling, white-hot and boiling as they seized the sky above.

  Compromised by flooding sunlight or otherwise, she could steal the night in the midst of day. She was still relatively sure that blood speckled the frets with each hurried motion. She didn’t have a choice, fueling her gasping stars with the oxygen they craved. She slashed, she burned, and she let her veins ignite, pumping her abundant orbs of light full of every last drop of radiance she could muster.

  And when they burst, her searing rain was undeniably strong. She couldn’t entertain the idea of anything but. If it left her straining this severely simply to unleash, her fingers crying out as she tore the bow across the strings, then it was surely worth something. Stars erupted into flames, and flames erupted into sparks that bore down upon his ice.

  Every angry splatter of brilliance hurtled into towering crystal with a bang, claiming flaking frost where they stung. It wouldn’t dent. It never did. It didn’t so much as bend or budge, and her infernal hail simply sputtered. Faith panted heavily, left only to watch as light so recently unforgiving fizzled and died beneath the sun.

  “Is that the most you can make at once?”

  Francisco’s words stung harder than her light ever could. She gritted her teeth, trying and failing to ignore the painful throbbing in her fingertips. “I-I really am trying! I promise!”

  She could hear him sigh. It hurt. “And you can’t hit any harder than that?”

  She couldn’t figure out if he was being harsh or asking genuinely. Her instinct was to assume the former. Faith clutched the neck of the viola so tightly that she risked breaking it in two. “I…”

  “There’s not much that could make it through Briar’s ice,” River countered softly, crossing his arms. “It’s not fair to expect it to break.”

  “I didn’t think it would break, I just kinda thought she would at least…you know, crack it or something by now,” Francisco argued.

  “And he has an Apex.”

  “I’m still right.”

  “It was a good effort,” came a voice from behind the crystalline barrier, raised as it needed to be. “Don’t worry about it.”

  In truth, that helped nothing. Smooth, rich notes offered in passing from his skilled hands left a crumbling tower in his wake, splintering and collapsing into jagged chunks in the grass. Thud after thud of discarded glaciers felt as heavy as her heart. It was almost nauseating. Faith’s eyes were locked on the icy remnants alone, for how she didn’t dare meet a single gaze of their own.

  River’s hand on her shoulder made her jump. “You did great. There’s no rush.”

  Even preferable as he was out of the four of them, she hesitated to look at him all the same. Instead, her tiny voice was cast only to the ground. “I promise I’m trying,” she repeated.

  “I know.”

  “I feel like there was more light yesterday, honestly,” Francisco interrupted, his hands settling onto his hips.

  “Francisco,” River warned quietly. His name alone was enough, and the Willful boy bit his tongue.

  He was possibly correct, anyway. No reassuring words River could offer her would help. Now it was nauseating, and shame burned hotter than her light could ever. Silence was worse than reproach, intentional or not. Four sets of eyes clinging to her shoulders left her torn between running and apologizing. As to the latter, she wasn’t particularly certain what for.

  “Are you tired?” River tried, his gentle touch never once leaving her shoulder. “I know that was a lot.”

  Faith shook her head much too quickly, her own hair batting against her eyelids. “I-I’m okay. I can…keep going.”

  “No, no, it’s alright,” he reassured. “We’ll stop for now.”

  Her eyes widened. The tremble of her fingers around the viola was impossible to curb. “But I can still--”

  “You haven’t paid your toll yet, right?”

  Every protest on her lips tumbled to the ice-kissed grass below. Faith tensed. “I…my toll?”

  “Like we talked about,” River went on, his voice somewhat softer. “You said that Jasse told you it hadn’t been paid, correct?”

  Faith paused. Confusing or not, the shift in conversation at least steered her away from inadequacy. “Yes.”

  It wasn’t a hard answer. She wasn’t sure what part of her thought to double-check, even after-the-fact. Right?

  Confirmation from within was one of very few comforts she could claim. Where she’d hesitated, Jasse didn’t. It is true. The toll has not yet been paid.

  Her own confirmation was enough for River, regardless. “And you remember how it works?”

  Faith didn’t particularly want to. Still, it came with the territory. She’d be remiss to forget. “Y-Yes.”

  When he withdrew his touch and set her shoulder free, the absence of tactile comfort was almost unwelcome. “We were…thinking about dealing with that tomorrow. Instead of training, we were going to take you to get that over with.”

  Faith flinched. “What do you mean?”

  “We’ll take care of most of it. It’ll be quick. There won’t be much for you to worry about, and then it’ll be over with. I don’t think there’s necessarily a…good time to get it done.”

  For a moment, she had no words. “What do you mean?” she repeated instead.

  At the very least, River was gentle. Francisco was not, and she wasn’t fond of his voice taking charge. “It’s like he said. We’ll knock it out fast, and it’ll be one less thing to deal with. You’re gonna have to do it eventually, anyway. We’ll help you out.”

  “We’ve all paid ours,” Briar added. “You’re the only one left. Ambassador or not, it’s the same for--”

  “I know that,” Faith interrupted, somewhat more sharply than intended. “I…know that.”

  Whether Mint’s unwavering gaze carried something judgmental was debatable. That, too, she was never fond of. It was all she could do to throw her attention back to River, somewhat desperate for what soft reassurance she could steal. She found enough of it in a smile she might not have deserved.

  “Does all of that sound alright with you? You won’t have to do any of it alone,” he offered, his patient words as soft as ever.

  Fidgeting was a reflex. She rolled the pegs of the viola between her fingers. “I still don’t understand how I’m supposed to pay it. It’s not something that just happens, right?”

  River shook his head. “Try not to think about it too much. Let us help. We’ll set you up for it, and we’ll walk you through it. We won’t leave your side.”

  He was cryptic. It was irritating, almost. There was simultaneously aggravation and relief that came with his control of the situation, by which her timeline was once more in his hands. It was possible that she needed that much. He meant no harm, regardless.

  “And we’re…doing this tomorrow?” Faith pushed.

  She’d never decided if she’d enjoyed or disliked his smile. It was continuous either way, delicate and true. “We’ll head to Selbright in the morning. We’ll take care of everything there. Get some rest. You did great today.”

  She couldn’t shake whatever unclear implications accompanied his plan. Praise was sweet, by comparison. She clung to what she could, grasping onto every word with aching hands. She pushed. He didn’t resist.

  “Really?”

  “Of course.”

  Reciprocating the same smile was impossible, brighter as it was. Faith couldn’t smile at all, for how her fingertips still stung and three sets of eyes still weighed heavily upon her back. For now, this was a compensation prize, paid for in blood. She was smiling inside, maybe. She couldn’t quite feel it, if so.

  River caught her scarlet sacrifice soon enough, his quiet satisfaction faltering. Worried eyes brushed her cracked fingers, and his face fell. He didn’t bother with words. His hands were a magnet for Renegadria, swift and unhesitant as they made for a case not so distant.

  In the sickest way, it was a compliment. Primed for service or not, Faith at least warranted effort in return.

  It was rare that she breached the boundaries of Tacell, borderline nonexistent as they were. Not since forsaking Ardenfall’s own had she strayed from paths well-traveled. They’d never brought her to Selbright, and she hadn’t expected them to. That was none of her business. Nothing ever was, really. It was frustrating. It was comforting. Where the sinking sun led the way, she trailed four more guides in turn. At the very least, River and Briar would slow for her in moments of fatigue. She appreciated it.

  To request reprieve was humiliating at best, and Faith bit her tongue in the face of both thirst and exhaustion. Facing forward or not, wandering eyes were a concern. They tolerated the trek well, and she was perhaps expected to do so in turn. There was something far more stressful about the concept of a silent trial versus those they’d placed before her directly. It was one more burden she bore in silence, prickled by sweat and plagued by doubt.

  The stars speckling the dimming sky were an indicator of progress, as were her aching calves. A journey so new to her meant little to them, and they were hardly fazed by the lengthy voyage. The moment she traded endless grass for firm streets, Faith nearly stumbled. She liked to imagine the collective apathy was born of ignorance rather than disdain. She doubted River, if no one else, would’ve condemned her to pain. She was precious, after all.

  Selbright was vast. She did what she could to walk faster, lest they leave her lost and forsaken in the sprawling city. She trailed in River’s footsteps, near enough that she risked stepping on his heels with each movement forward. If he cared, he said nothing. Street lamps began to pepper their path with dull yellows, flickering and weak. If she so chose, she could outdo them tenfold. As it was, she could hardly feel Jadareverie’s case on her back.

  “Where are we going?” Faith finally asked, her voice almost cracking from beyond her dry throat.

  Briar tossed his gaze over his shoulder. “We know where to get this done with. After that, we’ll stay the night at an inn near here.”

  “Probably best that we leave Mina out of this one,” Francisco went on, crossing his arms as he walked. “Usually, we just crash at her place.”

  “Do you two still plan to stay afterwards?” River asked, casting his attention towards Mint.

  Mint side-eyed Briar. The boy nodded in turn. “If you’re okay with it. We’re already here. We might as well search for a few Maestros before we go back.”

  “Do you even have anywhere left to look?” Francisco pressed. “I thought you got them all already.”

  Briar smiled. “It’s still worth a try. I’m fairly certain we’re missing a few here, to tell you the truth. Even now, I can feel it.”

  He scoffed. “It’s probably Mina.”

  “That’s not how it works,” Briar insisted quietly. “I would know.”

  “No you wouldn’t.”

  “I would.”

  “You would not.”

  Mint outright slapping Francisco's arm was enough to elicit a yelp of pain, given the force behind it. That, too, was enough to elicit a poorly-stifled laugh out of River. Ideally, Faith could smile along. In truth, she could hardly catch their faces at all, trailing behind as she was. Warmth was distant. Warmth was evasive, no matter how she battled to double her steps.

  “This is starting to look like the place.”

  River’s voice almost startled her in the midst of her distraction. Faith raised her eyes and found little light, the stars above marred by sheltering walls. Wherever they’d ended up, it was almost suffocating. Broad streets coalesced into tight alleys, steeped in shadow and clad in uncertainty. The atmosphere alone, given the foreign city, left her heart beating the slightest bit faster. She fought with all she had to keep up.

  “Where are we?” Faith murmured, more or less pressed against River’s back.

  He peered over his shoulder as he walked, fearlessly claiming step after step into the dark. “We won’t be here long. It’s okay. Don’t worry.”

  “But…where is here?” she pressed.

  Tight spaces loosened, at points. She earned windows. She earned buildings. She earned little establishments, loudly occupied and abundantly echoing. Not one touched the moonlight in full, for what of it spilled onto her path. Given the sounds and shouts that met her ears, she had a vague idea of the clientele.

  It took effort to navigate debris, and broken glass crunched beneath her flats as she walked. Some of them were screaming behind heavy doors. Things were being thrown, if not slammed. The laughter interspersed with aggression was extremely uncomfortable. Faith couldn’t decide whether to be sickened or afraid.

  All four slowed to a stop not far from the structure, worn bricks and battered wood hiding in the dark. So soon did River come to a standstill that she outright ran into him, hitting her face against his shoulder blades. The apologies that fled her lips were instinctive, if not ignored. River never took them, anyway, and his eyes only fell to the shadow-soaked building beyond.

  Francisco put his hands on his hips. “Is the same guy still there?”

  “I can’t make out his voice,” Briar said.

  “Oh, you’ll hear him. He’s loud as hell. He’s the one that usually comes outside after he’s done picking fights.”

  River turned his head, never quite tearing his gaze from the building. “That’s the one you’ve been watching?”

  Francisco nodded. “Yeah.”

  “What does he look like?”

  “Short brown hair. Tan. Average height. He’s got scars on his arms, when he rolls his sleeves up. Pretty sure I know where he keeps getting them from. Deserves every last one. Bastard.”

  If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  Faith tensed beneath the language alone, if not from the atmosphere in general. Finding her voice was difficult, given the steel in Francisco’s that she was forced to match. “What are you all…talking about? What is this place?”

  River sighed softly. It had taken him long enough to relent. “A tavern. A bit less upstanding than the rest of the ones in the city. It’s a little notorious for some of the…other things that happen here at night. Those who end up here are less than decent. At best, they’re questionable. At worst, they’re disgusting. They’re not the kind of people you’d ever want to be associated with.”

  “He’s being nice about it,” Francisco muttered. “Most of them are violent and sick. Some of them are worse when they’re sober. I’ve seen them put their hands on innocent people too many damn times, even on the way in. There’s a few that are more worthless than the others. If you saw the things they do, you’d think the same thing.”

  Faith was getting answers, at least. It wasn’t enough. Repeating herself was the most she could do. “And…why are we here?”

  “That’s him.”

  Mint gestured. Briar spoke. Francisco’s eyes followed, and River’s did in turn. Where four gazes were sharp, Faith’s alone was confused. Francisco had been correct in his description of the man, for the most part. She was lucky enough to witness the scars, abundant as they were. They hadn’t mentioned the inebriation, by which he outright stumbled down the steps with shouts in his wake. He contributed his fair share, granted. Threats followed him out the door, and drunken confidence spilled into the cramped alley. It was as pathetic as it was repulsive, for what specific sentiments left his mouth--slurred as they were.

  “Of course he’s drunk. Of course,” Francisco spat.

  Faith was almost afraid to ask. “Do you…know this person?”

  He scoffed. “Wish I didn’t. We’ve been following him for a hot minute. We know more about him than we’d like to. He’s a real piece of garbage, I promise. This is nothing new for him.”

  It was a question that had made a home on her lips. She couldn’t help it. “Why?”

  Briar answered in his stead, quietly or otherwise. “We had to be sure.”

  “Of?”

  “That it would be…justified.”

  Faith flinched. “That what would be justified?”

  “Get Jadareverie out.”

  River’s voice was unexpected, somewhere between demanding and softly guiding. The mention of her partner alone was enough to make her heart beat faster. Faith thought to ask her favorite question once more, and yet found straps slipping down her shoulders regardless. Her hands trembled all the way there. She couldn’t pinpoint why.

  “Do you want me to pin him down?” Briar asked.

  “I’ll get Renegadria, if it comes to that,” River said with a shake of his head. “I don’t want to leave anything behind, including your ice. I don’t think he’ll run, anyway.”

  “The only one that ever ran was Mint’s,” Francisco added. “And she still fell. He’s worse off than that lady was.”

  Faith clutched either portion of the viola tightly enough to stain her knuckles white. Her eyes flickered in a cycle between her partner, the Ensemble, and the intoxicated man mumbling obscenities to himself on the ground. What came out of three more mouths was equally as uncomfortable. Her stranger, at least, wasn’t cryptic, let alone ominous. Frustration won, whether or not she wanted it to.

  “What are you all talking about? What are we doing? What am I doing? What’s going on? Who is this person to any of you?” she finally cried.

  Faith gave every question she had. They gave her silence, for a moment. She loathed the four sets of cold eyes she earned, and she shrank under every pair immediately. It was River who offered her the only gentleness she’d come to expect.

  “He’s going to be your toll,” he said.

  Faith only stared. “What?”

  “This is…how you’re going to pay your toll,” River clarified. “It’ll be fast, and then you’ll never have to do it again.”

  Still, she could only watch him. “I don’t understand.”

  His gaze fell to Jadareverie. He dragged it to a man so pitiful, and he offered it back to the viola. When he raised it to her, she shattered. The acid that replaced her blood was intolerable, scorching to the point that she staggered. The dizziness was impossible to fight.

  “Are you asking me to--”

  Whatever horror was on her face was more than evident, apparently. River’s expression softened instantly, his hands aloft in a desperate plea for calm. “It’s okay. It’s going to be fine, I promise. We made sure that--”

  “I can’t!”

  “It’ll be quick, I swear. You’re strong. You can do this.”

  Her panicked tears were palpable, and she could feel them burning the corners of her eyes. “I can’t do that! I can’t do that! I can’t do that! River, I can’t, please, please!”

  “Faith, he’s less than scum,” Francisco argued. “I’ve seen this guy hit his kids. We wouldn’t have picked him if he was worth a damn thing. You’re doing the world a favor. We went out of our way to make sure of it.”

  “That’s a person!” Faith snapped, her voice wobbling. “That’s a human person!”

  “We got him for you!” Francisco snapped back.

  “Have you done this before?”

  The temporary and collective pause she earned was horrific. When her frantic gaze darted to River, even he averted his eyes. She wanted to vomit.

  “You’ve all killed people?” she screamed.

  If they had a problem with her volume, they said nothing. She probably matched with the tavern, in truth. “None of us had paid our tolls,” Briar tried calmly. “We had to. We didn’t have a choice but to pay them somehow. It’s…for the good of our Muses. It’s what we needed to do, and we had to make hard decisions for it. When you’re the Ambassador, you’ll understand how far we all have to go. Do it for them. Do it for Jasse.”

  Faith couldn’t breathe. She did her best, and her best was useless--as usual. The Muse in question was a lifeline she couldn’t surrender. Jasse.

  I am here.

  Even her voice within was unstable. Do I have to?

  The Muse was far more steady, by comparison. She’d expected as much. She wished it was contagious. The choice is yours and yours alone.

  Faith was fairly certain that she was going to faint. Her eyes shot back and forth endlessly between River and the man, now struggling to rise to his feet. That effort, too, was pitiful. You…definitely need a toll, right? Right? Right?

  By no means could she think straight. She was grateful when Jasse understood anyway. It is true.

  It was a miracle that the man hadn’t seen her yet. Faith held breaths she didn’t have and awaited the moment he would. She was high above the alley, tangled in the night sky and drifting amongst the stars. She was staring down at herself, shaking and terrified in the dark. If she turned and fled, right now, she wondered what would happen on every level. She’d already soaked up enough disdain and disappointment. She could handle more. She couldn’t stand more. She couldn’t stand anything. She couldn’t stand at all, and she risked crumpling to her knees.

  The delicate touch on the back of her hand was warm, sudden enough to startle her fiercely. Soft fingers came draped atop her own, grasping the bow in tandem. So near to her, his proximity wasn’t the comfort she’d hoped it’d be. Faith hated that she hoped for it at all. She didn’t want him to begin with.

  “You’re not alone,” River said, his words as gentle as ever. “We’re here with you. I’m here with you. We’ll do it together. Okay?”

  “I don’t want to,” Faith sobbed.

  Her tears singed her cheeks, splattering against her sleeves as he carefully pulled her forwards. Resistance wasn’t a concept. She thought to rebel, to hold her ground and insist on keeping her hands free of blood. In a voice so soft, River insisted the opposite. It was one more way that his spirit guided her path, and one more way that his storm dragged her down. She thought to turn her light on him instead. It would’ve been simple. His smile was an easy target in the dark.

  Faith didn’t keep the dark for long, regardless. He just barely brought her out of the shadows, graced by the faintest glow of speckled lamps. She was vulnerable in more ways than one, and miserable in every manner she could conceive of. The quiet clack of her flats against the ground was enough to draw the man’s attention. So, too, did she draw his sickening glare in turn. Nothing in her could suffice to give one back.

  Whatever bitter insults and blunted hostilities he could give were dulled by a guiding touch. The voice in her ear overshadowed the panicked one in her head, calm and composed by comparison. It wasn’t her hands that brought a viola to her shoulder, nor her fingers that leveled a bow against the strings. It wasn’t her own heat that kept her warm, burning as her skin was, but that which pressed up against her from behind. Steady arms encircled her, and confident motions stilled her trembling by force. What escaped his support still trembled all the same.

  “Close your eyes,” River whispered. “I’ll aim. It’ll be okay.”

  The world was spinning too fast for her to keep up with. “I don’t want to do this,” Faith pleaded in a whisper of her own. “I don’t want to. I don’t want to. I don’t want to.”

  “Just make your light, and I’ll do the rest. I’ll support you. If he screams, just…keep going. Pretend you don’t hear it. I’ll cover your ears. Do you want me to hold him down?”

  “River, please, don’t make me. Please.”

  Her vision was blurring. It was nothing short of a miracle that his voice was still as clear as it was. It was an equal miracle that she could process his words at all, sickeningly soft as they continued to be. “You can do it. You can do this. You’re going to be the Ambassador. This is…how far we have to go for them. It’s because we love them. I know you love them, too.”

  Love was strong. Love was poisonous. She wanted the word out of his mouth, and she wanted his hands off of her.

  “I’m here. I’m here with you.”

  Anything was better than that.

  “Stop it!” Faith screeched.

  Jadareverie, too, screeched just as loud. It was very possible that she hit River in the face with the force with which she flailed, staggering out of his guiding grip. Stars replaced her cries, and radiance replaced her tears. Her blood burned in more ways than one, spilling along strings she regretted gracing at all.

  What pulsing orbs grew to conquer a darkened alleyway thrived in the shadows, looming high along the walls. She compensated for a dim sky with a galaxy of her own, ruthless and born solely for one man. His eyes grew wide, and she could see every last bubble of starry wrath reflected in his gaze. Her song was a reflex.

  Faith hadn’t even processed the act. She was moving largely on instinct, by which each motion served to incinerate the sensation of gentle hands meant to guide. She was free by violence alone, an Ambassador emboldened by the worst of strengths. River could have her destiny. He could have her growth. Where he could steer all else, her light was her own.

  She was screaming, and she hoped he heard. She hoped all of them did. Her throat was already raw. Where River had been concerned as to the screams of the damned, she’d surely outdo the volume of her victim--provided he could scream in the first place.

  And when her stars saw fit to burst, they didn’t do so peacefully. They swelled and exploded, little suns torn to cinders as searing rain sailed to the earth. From on high, she brought the sky crashing down, localized for a man so innocent and vile. Faith wasn’t sure where to aim. She’d taken that privilege from River, too, and it almost felt good. She threw caution to his winds, and she aimed everywhere her eyes could land.

  She had enough light for it, granted. For a fleeting moment, Faith wondered how they’d accounted for what wandering gazes could steal into the night. It wasn’t as though her rage was hard to see. It had taken long enough to recognize the way by which the tavern lacked windows altogether--intentionally, more than likely. She still didn’t want to consider exactly what happened within, given the picture the Ensemble had painted. Long before she’d hit her mark, she wondered what would be left over. She’d never cracked Briar’s ice, to be fair. To crack human flesh was a different matter entirely.

  Time slowed down in the process. She couldn’t prove it, and yet she was almost certain the world had stilled in time with her shattered stars. Her view was somewhat blunted by her own luminescence, aglow as her vision was in excess. Brilliant golds stained her eyes, and they stained the man in turn.

  She’d singed River in passing, once, flakes of stray radiance spilling beyond crystalline barriers. Faith only regretted it sometimes. The peeling glimmer she’d earned that day had spoken to the hottest of light, by which she could be proud. With certainty, here, it was hot. It was terribly, terribly, hot, and she confirmed it with every disgusting splash of brilliance upon the man’s skin.

  Where he’d harbored so many scars, he’d undoubtedly come to harbor more. She took some of them away entirely, erased by her scathing assault. He may as well have been made of paper, delicate and useless as she pelted him and set him aflame. What burned red bit deep, and what bit deep became black. If he was crying out in agony, she never would’ve heard.

  Faith played harder. She burned brighter. She lit him up in the worst way, shredded starlight firing at every angle. She hit his face more than once, and she was almost positive that she’d stung his eyes. It would’ve been hard not to. She tried not to look, given what surely no longer existed.

  There was no way to tell, undeniably, when he was dead. To stop in the midst of the deed would’ve been cruel, should she have ceased too early. Utter annihilation was the best she could come up with. For how hot she burned in every way, it was most definitely doable.

  She summoned the sun and dismantled it in turn, shredding him to his core and charring all she could touch. Things were sloughing. Things were melting, possibly. Black mixed with tan, and she couldn’t quite tell from afar. More than likely, that part wasn’t supposed to be so distant from his arm.

  “Faith, that’s enough!”

  Outside might not have sufficed. Were she to besiege him from within, she could make doubly sure that he’d passed away. She had options for entry, apparently, given what parts of him had long since given way. He was practically drowning in her radiance, blessed with the sickest wrath of Heaven. Faith couldn’t stop, for more reasons than one. If his heart was still beating, she’d have to incinerate that, too. It wouldn’t be hard to reach.

  “Faith, he’s dead! You can stop!”

  Their voices were irrelevant. Her own was ear-shattering--to herself, anyway. It was almost irritating. If she could cover her own mouth and stifle a girl so different, she would. What hands played felt foreign. What eyes bore witness to a toll she’d soon see from the other side felt distant. Faith was so high above, and the Ambassador was so far below.

  She’d expected more blood. It was possible that there was nothing left from which to bleed. She could hear every dull thud on impact with a target unseen, and she was surely hitting something. His voice was absent. She'd figured it would be, and she had suspicions that her light had stolen his vocal cords long ago.

  “Stop it!”

  “My God, Faith, cut it out! He’s dead!”

  Exposed as they were to the night beyond, Faith wondered if she should leave a body at all. She wondered if there was a body left to begin with. She’d never checked how far she could go, nor had she ever wanted to. They’d asked for this, to be fair. Her song was eternal, her shredded stars just as such. They strayed, and she was left to char the ground in passing. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t think. Playing was still a reflex, and she would burn out in time with the sun in her blood.

  Whatever slammed into her did so with grace, soft yet firm all at once. Something was around her wrists, and warmth was against her back. By force, the bow was divorced from the strings of the viola. The sharp screech of a halted song was chilling. Her pulsing radiance lingered for more than a moment, aloft and looming beyond.

  Only now, brought to involuntary silence, did she feel how heavily her heart was pounding. It took time for her pupils to readjust to settling darkness and her ears to acclimate to wafting quiet. The sizzling was an exception. She couldn’t pinpoint it, immediately.

  “Faith, that’s enough,” she heard twice over. “That’s enough.”

  She’d never be free of his grasp, at this rate. Flailing was instinctive, whether or not River doubled down. She didn’t care if she hit him with the bow. She hoped she did. “What more do you want from me?” Faith screamed. “What do you want from me? What do you want from me? What do you want from me?”

  “It’s over,” River murmured. “This is all you had to do. This is enough.”

  She couldn’t decide if his voice was calming or infuriating. In a way, it was both. He drew her eyes first, and Faith nearly strained her neck with the effort of turning her head. His own gaze was soft, if not hurt. She couldn’t fathom why, given that he’d had so little to do with the deed. That right was hers alone. It was a right she didn’t want. Why was he even here?

  The sizzling was a constant. It had grown quieter, to be fair. Faith’s eyes drifted towards the sound far more slowly, and her heartbeat compensated for her speed. She hadn’t gotten too memorable of a view, by which the man’s visage was a fuzzy memory. She didn’t need to remember much. He definitely had not looked like that when she’d started. He definitely had resembled something closer to human.

  She couldn’t register it as a corpse, at first, disfigured as it had become. The longer she stared, the less sense it made. The colors were scathingly unnatural. The features were absent. For all intents and purposes, he was no longer a person.

  Her hands trembled around either portion of Jadareverie for a different reason entirely, her grip gradually loosening instead. “I-I…”

  Faith Rafay, your toll has been paid once over.

  Jasse’s voice was overstimulating. It was loud. It was the one puzzle piece that remained outside her board, clicking neatly into place at last. Her eyes were locked on the incinerated mass of murky viscera, unmoving and unrecognizable.

  “Oh my God,” Francisco mumbled.

  Faith was screaming again. They were new screams, for a new reason. Jadareverie slipped from her grasp, clattering pitifully to the ground as she wailed. The rest of her, too, was on her way down, faltering as she collapsed in River’s arms. Even through her blurring world, marred by a teary haze, she couldn’t take her eyes off of a person once freed of starlight.

  River knew. He followed her all the way down, bringing her to her knees with grace she didn’t deserve. “Don’t look. It’s okay. It’s okay now. It’s over.”

  Words were impossible to create. No matter how many times she tried, she failed, and only cries of sheer horror erupted instead. Were she not shaking so viciously, she could wrap her bloodstained fingers around his neck. As it was, Faith couldn’t tear her desperate arms from his warm embrace. River’s hand came to cradle her head, stroking her hair as he shifted his shoulders. It was just enough to banish her view of her forsaken victim.

  Briar was just barely audible beneath her screeching. “Should I--”

  “Get rid of it,” River said quickly, his tone far more strict than usual. “It doesn’t matter how. Get him out of here.”

  “Right.”

  Reproach wasn’t unexpected. It was all she ever earned from him. “Faith, you didn’t have to go that far. For God’s sake, all you had to--”

  “That’s enough, Francisco!” River snapped.

  His anger was rare. It was jarring each and every time she’d ever seen it, and far more so when pointed at the Ensemble. Pressed to his shoulder as she was, Faith couldn’t see the Willful boy. She heard nothing more. That sufficed, and she could imagine his face. In some sick way, it felt good. It was just barely enough to soften her cries in the slightest, muffled against the silks of his shirt. He held her close, never once letting go.

  “You did great,” River whispered. “You did…great. You never have to do it again, okay? It’s over now. I’m so proud of you. We’re all so, so proud of you.”

  “I killed somebody,” Faith croaked, every syllable fizzling instantly.

  “You did what you had to do.”

  “River, I killed somebody.”

  “You didn’t have a choice,” he said. “We didn’t give you a choice. We pulled you into this. For that, I’m sorry, no matter the reason. Still, remember why we did it. Remember why you did it. You’re going to be a wonderful Ambassador. You’ve…gone so far for them already. They need you, Faith. We need you.”

  Faith settled into soft hiccups and subtle shudders, by which his gentle praise alone smothered her on every side. She didn’t hate it. She clung to him tighter. Ideally, he’d give her more.

  “You’re special. Don’t forget that. We can’t do this without you. We’re right here with you. Everything we do, we do for the Ambassador. We won’t let you do this alone.”

  She couldn’t decide if it’d be better that way. For now, the spirit she loathed to surrender to was a blessing, and she let it do as it pleased. His touch wasn’t unwelcome. They weren’t unwelcome. For the briefest moment, in the absolute slightest, the blood dripping from her fingertips was worth it.

  Faith didn’t like the thought. Faith couldn’t erase the thought. Faith internalized the thought, and it burrowed beneath her skin. Bound to her knees in the cold of the night, the world spun fast enough to leave her dizzy. Even so, whatever glow surged through her veins brought another dizziness altogether. It dove deep and swallowed her whole, just as so much else had before.

  Her radiance was scorching. Her radiance was frigid. She was a seed afraid to blossom, and her double-sided stars couldn’t decide if warmth was useful. Still, right here, right now, she was justified. Faith’s path was red, and her heavy heart was light.