Either Heaven was beautiful, or the way her life flashed before her eyes was.
Octavia still remembered the first time she’d met every single one of them, and she’d known in advance she’d carry the memories with her all the way up. It was the blessing of a heroine in a time of darkness. It was kindness amongst tender flowers and speed she could hardly match. It was explosive cherry oak topped with a kiss, and it was a warm smile beside a fragile flame in a hopeless Hell.
It was snowflakes that speckled her sheets and tenderly settled upon her skin. It was trust and guidance that taught her self-defense against that which plagued the world with suffering. It was a fierce song that fought at her side every step of the way, cooling her soul and warming her heart all at once. It was shrill, piercing, unrelenting. It was beautiful, beautiful, beautiful, and she could never forget it, even in death. Octavia would cherish every note she could summon in her head, every last melody she could cling to that Silver Brevada could sing to her. She would take it with her wherever she went. It was loud. It was intolerably loud. She didn’t hate the feeling.
She could still breathe. She wondered, vaguely, if she’d wandered into a toll after all. Even then, she shouldn’t have been able to move. She shouldn’t have been able to open her eyes. She shouldn’t have still been privy to Rani’s divine song, still equally as incomprehensible and untranslatable. Silence was an enigma, and Octavia knew too little of it to understand the full impact of the spider web in such a place.
She cracked her eyes open. If nothing else, for all of her life, she would know Silver Brevada.
It was louder than Rani. It was shriller than Rani. The Maestra who stood fast against the radiance that sought to strike her down was more lovely than Rani in every way. Octavia could hardly see what rested on the opposite side of the girl. Her crystalline rebellion had parted the Heartful Maestra’s onslaught like a brilliant sea.
The streaming light that burst past them on either side was painfully hot, physically scorching the air Octavia breathed even from afar. Still, Viola didn’t move. Her song never stilled, her ice never faltered, and the barrier she blasted back death itself with was as unbending as her soul. On her knees as she was, surrendered to fate, it was all Octavia could do to watch her, gazing up in horror at the Soulful Maestra’s back alone.
“Vi…ola?” she murmured in disbelief.
The girl had to breathe at some point. It would be her downfall, and Octavia knew her too well. Tears sprung to her eyes in an instant.
“What are you doing? Stop!” Octavia pleaded desperately.
The moment she watched Viola’s lips part from the flute, her head tilting backwards and bringing the lovely bow she adored bouncing along with it, Octavia feared the worst. She couldn’t lose more than herself. What peace she’d found in death would be shattered effortlessly, should the girl she cherished most in the world come with her.
It was a gale that ruffled the same bow, then, that gave her room to inhale.
Even if Octavia couldn’t see it, she felt the bursting breeze, clear as could be, splash her braids with a residual gust in passing. She couldn’t tell where they went. She knew it was forward, for how the ocean of radiance halved ever further. She cast her eyes to the right, and where she’d found only the deadly light of Heaven moments ago, there stood a heroine instead. From here, too, it was all she could do to gaze up at the Spirited Maestra’s back, her fingers flying across every string of the harp relentlessly.
She knew of a heat that blazed in a different flavor than her own light, as subtle as the difference had once been. Now, Octavia could tell them apart immediately. This, at least, she could see, for how powerfully his inferno would ignite as it burst from the bell of the trumpet every time. It was a striking contrast, scathing scarlets and oranges against the golds of divinity itself. She cast her eyes to the left, and she found her beacon of kindness.
She didn’t initially see it, but she knew it was present. It was impossible to miss, given the unavoidable boom that rattled her eardrums and besieged her blood. Octavia couldn’t find him, at first, although she knew him to be there from the way he was shouting. How he stayed aloft was beyond her, the strength of sound alone unshakable against a light that surged ever onwards.
The explosive shockwave was eternal. She’d never witnessed such force erupt from two little halves of cherry oak. He was steadied, an infinite burst in and of himself as he rebelled against pure radiance forever. Even in a place so incomprehensible, he didn’t fail to amaze her. She cast her eyes upwards, and she found her soldier.
There was little to be done with a simple knife against radiance pouring from on high, or from the lips of a Muse who’d once fashioned a world from nothingness. He’d never been one to show fear, even in the face of agony time and time again. He’d never been one to back down in the face of overwhelming odds, even for what light itself had cursed him with. For how little he could do, he, too, was there. He threw himself in front of Octavia, arms spread wide with only a pitiful blade to show for his essence. She cast her eyes forwards, and she found her thunderstorm.
“Stop it!” Octavia begged tearfully. “Knock it off, all of you, please!”
Their rebellion was endless, indifferent to her desperate words. Octavia had stemmed her tears in the face of death, and they’d brought them back immediately. She thought to cast herself into the light, to spare them the fate that came with defiance. She wondered if she’d have to plead with Ramulus. She wondered if she was too late already.
“We’re not leaving you!”
Octavia couldn’t ignore her spirit. She stifled a sob, throwing her desperate gaze high once more.
Madrigal’s eyes weren’t on the Ambassador at all. Instead, in the direction of light she surely couldn't see through to the end, her harsh words challenged a Maestra unseen. “Octavia is our friend! We’re not letting you take her away from us! We’re supposed to be a team, and she’s our fearless leader! She’s precious, and she’s important, and we love her a whole lot! When she’s with me, I’m not alone, and I can do anything! I’m never giving up on her, because that’s not what a heroine does! You can’t have her, no matter what! Leave her alone!”
He, too, did the same, still aloft and still just as fierce. “I don’t give a damn what you want or what you need! I don’t give a damn what any of you want!” Renato shouted. “She’s everything we’ve got! She’s there for people when they need it the most, and she doesn’t back down from a fight, so why should she back down from you? What the hell kind of soldier am I if I stand there and let you screw with my leader? You’re not gonna put one finger on her!”
It took him a moment to catch his breath. He tore his lips away from the mouthpiece with such fervor that Octavia could’ve sworn she saw embers following along. “You’re out of your mind if you think you can just show up and kill her!” Harper cried. “You don’t deserve her! None of you deserve her! She’s everything beautiful about this world, and she loves harder than anyone I’ve ever met! If her heart’s as pure as you say it is, then I’ll lay down my life before I let you ruin it! She’s gonna have my fire until the day I die, and you’re never taking her away from me!”
It occurred to Octavia exactly what he was doing. For how he still stood fearlessly over her, unmoving and firmly planted against nothing at all, she could only imagine the piercing look in his eyes as he challenged pure light with his gaze alone. She didn’t want to bring him down with her. He was stubborn, and she knew he’d never budge.
“You’re sick,” Josiah spat, “and you’ve got a lot of nerve if you think the whole world needs to accommodate your mistakes! You said it yourself! She’s innocent! She had nothing to do with the screw-ups you guys made, so after all she’s done for you, why should she have to give more? Everything I’ve ever lost has been because of you all, and she’s the one who picked me up off the ground and gave me a second chance! You really think I’m gonna give that up? This world owes you nothing! You’re not getting anything else out of it!”
“Stop it, please,” Octavia begged once more, her vision blurred through tears she could no longer control. “I’m begging you!”
“I’ll never give her up!”
She couldn’t lose them. She treasured them, heart and soul. Of that soul, in particular, she was blessed in every way. Her breath hitched in her throat, and she clung to every word.
“If this is what it takes to stop the Dissonance, then forget it! I don’t want a world without her in it!”
“Viola,” Octavia wept.
Even panting for breath, relieved by the efforts of those who adored the Ambassador just as much, she was still so, so beautiful. “What’s the point in saving a world where she’s not there? What’s the point in living if she’s not with us? To hell with that! If we have to deal with Dissonance the rest of our lives, I’d do that in a heartbeat before I let her die like this! You want her so badly? You’ll have her over my dead body! We love her! I love her!”
Octavia couldn’t see through her sorrow. Still, her heart raced, and her blood burned. She didn’t hate it. It was hotter than the light that slowly dimmed, sparing her skin from collateral damage. It was softer than the voice that was offered in the wake of violent radiance, her life still startlingly intact as she knelt upon nothing. Stradivaria was before her, and she didn’t look for Stratos above her. She wondered if he was still there. She wondered if he was watching at all, and what he would think if he was.
Where once had been blinding brilliance in the hands of a child moments before now came quiet words on her stolen lips. “I believe I had made myself clear. To intervene is to perish. Even so, you have made such a choice?
Viola didn’t flinch, Silver Brevada still inches from her lips. “I’m not backing down. None of us are. Take us down if you have to, but we’re not giving her up without a fight. She’s our Ambassador, too!”
Rani was quiet for a moment, meeting a glare of Soulful resolve with only an empty gaze. “If that is so, then know that you were given the choice. What follows is inevitable.”
Octavia couldn’t find the drive to argue, not with how they stood fast against light incarnate so fearlessly. Even now, at their backs, she couldn’t bring herself to stand. She couldn’t bring herself to touch Stradivaria, still resting uselessly before her. She couldn’t bring herself to look for Stratos, whether without or within. She was frozen in time, captive to uncertainty.
For how still they remained, then, the luminescence that followed was far more colorful than that which she’d expected to be blighted by again. It came not from her front, but from above. It was not of two lifeless hands, but born of vessels she’d soon eviscerate with her own. It was hardly her to whom they spoke, faceless gazes cast to a place she refused to raise her eyes. Octavia caught their hues, diverse as they were. It was the only light she could’ve hoped for, even in the midst of utter disorientation.
“You would forsake her, then,” Orleanna stated plainly.
“For how you have claimed her as your own all this time, you would leave her to perish with so little concern,” Lyra added, her bitter accusations in stark contrast with her soft tone. “You have abandoned your heart as you speak of a greater cause.”
“You would not argue.”
“You would not question.”
“You would not resist?”
“Nor would you rebel?”
At no point in her life had she thought Mente and Aste, of all Muses, would stand up on her behalf. She really was in a dream. When she found the courage to lift her head at last, he was there. Stratos took their vitriol in silence, as he’d done before. Octavia held her breath. As to why, she wasn’t quite sure.
“You are content to do as you are told,” Orleanna spoke sharply. Never before had Octavia heard pure ire in her voice as it wavered, the Willful Muse’s gentle demeanor cast aside in favor of wrath. “Do you not see them as worthy of existence? Do you not view them as deserving of love? Bear witness, Stratos, to how our own face that which is insurmountable. You, in all of your glory, could not be bothered to do the same?”
Stratos, to his credit, didn’t quite shirk away from their hostilities. In his own way, he was a prisoner to much the same scene as Octavia. Where she found protection, he found confrontation. He was quiet, and every word he opted to hold in his heart burned Octavia that much more. If he was to berate them, she wished he would. If he was to offer up his sorrow, she wished he would. If he was to shatter what was left of her heart to the most miniscule fragments again and again, it would be better than nothing. She craved his voice. It didn’t matter what it carried, for how long ago she’d come to know it.
“Humility is your folly, Stratos! Wallow in your shame, for your cowardice deserves it!”
He’d always been loud. Octavia didn’t expect him to stop now.
“Your submissiveness becomes you! Your complacency with that which would challenge your soul is revolting! Have you no pride in your legacy? Have you no pride at all?” Brava cried, his luminescent arms spread wide as he oozed disdain. “You are undeserving of the Ambassador!”
Never had she heard his praise. Once, he’d stung her with the opposite. Once, she’d been replaceable, far from special. It was Brava, instead, to whom her wide eyes flickered.
His words never softened. She didn’t hate it. “I say unto you, Ambassador, stand for yourself! Leave this one in your wake! If such is to be, do not helplessly submit! Rage against destiny until your dying breath, befitting of the courage of the Ambassador! If you are to perish, then do so with your heart ablaze and your soul alight!”
Octavia couldn’t process his demands, at least momentarily. She wondered if she was doing him a disservice, only staring back at radiant cerulean as she was. Brava didn’t chide her. He didn’t push her, nor did he berate her. Never in her life had she felt warmth from him, and the feeling was as unsettling as it was wonderful.
“You would resist redemption, then?” Ramulus’ calm voice interrupted, the dichotomy between the Muses’ tones striking. “You would reject that which has been so carefully salvaged?”
Lyra shook her head, her radiant hands folded over her equally-radiant heart. “My Lord, this is not what was to be! We did not grace them with love only to steal it away! We did not cast our hopes aloft only to rest our touch once more upon their mortal world! This is not the way!”
“We cannot interfere,” Orleanna added. “So long have we fought not to do so!”
Rani was steadfast, and Ramulus was equally so. “This is the only path to salvation. Stand against such, and you stand against me. I will say this only once. What is true for your own is mutual. Your attachments would endanger those who have returned.”
Rani raised her head to Lyra, and her still eyes along the way made the gesture all the more horrifying. “You would forsake Ethel in favor of this one, then?”
Octavia froze. She watched, briefly, as Madrigal did the same, her own terrified eyes rising to the Apex of Spirit in turn. When Lyra shook her head yet again, it was a miracle the Ambassador never could’ve fathomed.
“It is what he would have done,” she spoke, her voice as low as it was confident.
“And you, of Breileneth?” Ramulus asked, Rani’s same hollow eyes touching upon the Willful Muse instead.
Orleanna, too, was unbending. “I could not face him, should I falter.”
“If you perish, Ambassador…” Mente began.
“Do so with honor,” Aste concluded.
“Rise…”
“And be strong.”
She wished so terribly that she could hear those words from a heart of light, so much like her own. She wished so terribly that she could hear his voice at all. Anything would suffice. For how she cradled his vessel in her arms once more, material eyes and not settled onto her at every angle, rising to her feet in a world of nothingness was the second-hardest challenge Octavia faced in Silence. The creeping shadow of death was a distant third. Ultimately, it was his love, shattered and lost, that would be her greatest trial.
Octavia didn’t need him. Regardless, he was hers, a prisoner to her unyielding heart. Filled to the brim with love graced by others, she would drag him down and drown him in it. Stratos’ light was hers to take, even now. He didn’t have a choice. For all he could steal from her, he belonged to her, for better or worse.
Octavia settled the bow against the strings, as she’d done so many times before. She raised him to her shoulder, where he so naturally rested yet again. She didn’t need to ask for everything he had. She’d take it by force and give it to the place he least wished for it to go. It was her revenge. It was her salvation. It was her right.
It was her choice, for once and once only.
“So be it.”
It would never not be beautiful. It would never not be resplendent. Octavia would always regret the way by which she was forced to resist such a heavenly melody, all-consuming and overwhelming as it was. Rani truly was light itself, for how every note breathed with confidence from lips long since dead lit her soul and cursed the air. Where Octavia had clung to strings as a catalyst for her boiling blood so many times over, Rani needed no intervention for the radiance that bubbled from her fingertips. It was as striking as it was terrifying, and she truly was what Octavia could only imagine as an angel of death. It would make sense.
At the very least, she hardly needed to fear hollow eyes anymore, alight with something far more splendorous as they were. Rani was emptied, her small body a vessel in the truest sense of the word. It was haunting. It was enough to leave the Ambassador's own eyes wide and the fingers around her bow hesitant, given how fast the subsequent brilliance that besieged her was. Octavia struggled to wrap her head around it the entire time she struggled to dodge, much the same. It was all she could do to throw herself out of harm’s way, the same bursting luminescence bearing down on her yet again. She wasn’t the only one.
There was a relief that came with the realization that she was capable of landing flat upon “nothing”. To move quickly, let alone to fight in such a vast and incomprehensible place, was still a concept Octavia hadn’t fully tried to unravel. Part of her had feared one misplaced step or fickle fingers at risk of fumbling the bow would see that which was material succumb to that which was not. She fell, and yet she hadn’t truly fallen. It was a promising start, vulnerable as she knew herself to be in the face of her angel of death. It took effort to push herself to her feet, and more still to position Stradivaria onto her shoulders yet again.
Where she no longer found the endearing hues and colorful luminescence she’d grown to adore, the Maestros left in their wake were far more of a comfort. She wished they were closer. She understood why, given the way both explosive waves of radiance had largely surged upon them without hesitation. It was all they could do to escape the blinding sea, and she was extremely relieved to see that none of them had been burned by light she wished she could love.
For what she knew of the prowess of that which she did cherish, it was white-hot and unforgiving. Even in her own hands, it was a worthy threat. For the Lord of All, it was a death sentence, a holy judgment offered without remorse. Octavia shuddered. Just the thought of touching it was enough to make her feel ill.
“Okay, this is not how I expected this whole thing to go down!” Renato shouted.
“What are we supposed to do?” Viola asked, her words far calmer than Octavia would’ve expected. “That’s the Apex of Heart. I mean, that’s their Lord of All. Can we even do anything?”
“We can keep her away from Octavia!” Harper cried, already raising Royal Orleans to his lips once more.
His timing was not only impeccable, but incredibly necessary. Again, Rani was upon them, the dazzling song that saw her words woven into brilliance bubbling from the skin of her palms yet again. Octavia had always hesitated to use the term “magic” when referring to Harmonial Instruments, let alone the Maestro world at large. She could think of few others terms to describe what she was witnessing, really, for how unnatural the sight truly was.
It hardly mattered. She noted the way by which every blast was indiscriminate, equal parts sizzling and sonorous. Blinding stars and the scorching embers in their wake left only milky afterimages as they burst against nothing in particular. Every desperate Maestro was equally at risk in their luminous line of fire.
It was of the utmost importance that their reaction times were sharp, and some had more room than others. Octavia couldn’t afford to gauge their reactions. She could only trust in the familiar and beloved notes that raged against Rani’s own, an almost lovely dichotomy. She could hardly trust in Stratos, and yet his stolen light was as powerful as ever. She had exactly one thing to thank him for, nonconsensual as it was.
The reprieve they found was limited, for how often Octavia was forced to offer up rebellious radiance of her own again and again. It crashed and surged much the same, her ebbing sun swelling against the foreign sea. She had a vague idea as to the presence she felt rushing up behind her, hurried and trusting in her song. It only fueled her drive all the more, and she welcomed the scalding stars that bubbled in her blood.
“How are we supposed to stop her?” Madrigal yelled above her stormy harmony, her gales whipping desperately against the pouring luminescence before her.
“I don’t know why, but her light is tangible against all of your legacies,” Josiah reasoned back. “She’s different!”
“Well, she’s got a friggin’ Apex, for one!” Renato added harshly. He, too, had his work cut out for him, for how he was once more shaking as he raged against the unforgiving tide. Again, he was his own explosion, forceful and resilient with defenses unseen. Rippling golds of radiance rushed to meet his repulsive resistance in the most jarring of veils. For the pressure it took and the strain on his face, Octavia wondered if it hurt.
“But maybe it’s something to work with!” Viola tried. “We don’t have to stand still and take it!”
The chill of Silver Brevada’s gorgeous melody trilling high above even Rani’s own cooled Octavia’s skin from afar, and she was grateful. It did little to chill her veins, boiling with the burning wrath of the sun as it spilled onto the strings. For that, too, she was grateful. To resist light with light was disorienting. She’d done it in passing, and never to this degree. She played faster. It was the most she could do.
The raging flames of Royal Orleans, at least, were somewhat beautiful against that which burned more fiercely than themselves. Harper’s scathing inferno colliding with Rani’s surging radiance was almost ironic, and Octavia found herself cheering for hellfire over the light of Heaven. “Can we kill her? Should we kill her? I-I mean, she’s…just look at her!”
Rani wasn’t the first thing Octavia’s eyes went to at any given point in time. Witnessing the girl who cursed them with a brilliant sea, rippling and rushing still, would leave her struggling to overlook the light every incomprehensible word brought forward. Truthfully, it was difficult simply to keep her eyes open. Harper’s words were loaded, ultimately, and she weighed their consequences in her head multiple times over.
Josiah, to his credit, unraveled them on her behalf. “She’s a Harmonial Instrument, but she’s also a Maestra! She’s already dead, remember? If we can destroy her body, maybe we can take down the Muse inside of it, too!”
“Okay, there is no way that’s gonna work,” Renato argued. “How the hell do you expect us to kill a friggin’ Muse? It’s a Muse, dude! That’s not happening!”
He shook his head. Octavia could feel his body heat as he moved closer to her, still unseen as he was behind the safety of her back. “A Muse without a Harmonial Instrument can’t fight back! We don’t have to kill the Muse, we just have to break its vessel!”
“But can a Harmonial Instrument even be damaged? In all the time we’ve done this, I’ve never seen that happen!” Harper cried again.
It was Madrigal, to Octavia’s surprise, who took over. Her fingers still flew across every string of Lyra’s Repose as she spoke. “She’s part human! Maybe that’s different, too! We can still try!”
“It’s worth a shot!” Josiah agreed above the beautiful cacophony.
Octavia alone dissented, close to him as she was. She was relieved he could hear her, given how desperately she continued to play. “Josiah, that’s their Lord of All! He can mess with the spider web! He already has! He might be able to fight back anyway, vessel or not! The same rules don’t apply here!”
She heard Josiah groan, of all things. “That’s the whole freakin’ point of the spider web, isn’t it? We’ll have to figure it out the hard way!”
She’d never expected it out of him. It was reassuring. It was warm.
“If we do stop him,” Octavia began hesitantly, “what happens then? Where…do we go from there?”
“This comes first!” Viola shouted. “We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it!”
It wasn’t worth arguing with. It wasn’t as though Octavia would’ve been able to offer a better answer. Her greater concern came in the form of their collective stamina. Breath control and physical effort would only get them so far against the endless, surging tide of Rani’s luminous song. Her muscles were nowhere close to aching, and she doubted the others were even slightly cursed with anything akin to the same just yet. Still, it was a creeping concern she couldn’t shake well in advance. They’d need everything they could get. Advancing was impossible, just as retreating was unthinkable. For all intents and purposes, they were pinned in place.
Rani wasn’t the only one with radiant confidence at her fingertips. Octavia had long since learned how to aim. Distance was irrelevant, and she didn’t even necessarily need to make a solid shot. The Ambassador embraced every scalding pulse of the stars themselves that boiled beneath her skin, and the rays she’d once considered to be born of collaboration were now stolen. She didn’t regret it one bit. It was with great care that she steadied her balance, cocked her head alongside her bow, and sent her borrowed brilliance sailing high above the burning sea. She prayed.
She didn’t hit. She'd expected as much. It was, regardless, enough to make the Maestra falter. Her song was cut short momentarily, fingertips dipped in starlight catching Octavia’s rays with a startling boom. It was gorgeous in its own way, speckles of a dying nova bursting clean from Rani’s skin and scattering into thin air. In that way, she was still every bit as resplendent even under fire. The hollow, cold eyes she knew to be buried beneath a blinding gaze never became Octavia’s to match, and the girl’s glare burned white-hot all the same. For how the tide slowed and stilled, it was the only thing Octavia had wanted. She’d never been so glad to see nothing at all.
Her element of surprise would only work once. Octavia refused to squander it.
“Now!”
She wasn’t the only one who could aim. She was somewhat amazed Madrigal could reach that far, although her fearlessness served her well in closing the gap.
There was no need for communication, largely, for how well they’d grown to know one another’s songs. It was with fleeting glances alone that they came to advance, some more hurriedly than others. They were beautiful in tandem, whether melodic or otherwise. They always were, and Octavia’s heart raced for a thousand reasons.
The relief Octavia had earned had left a far smaller window than she would’ve hoped to garner, and she somewhat lamented her inability to widen it further. The versatility of a spirit of wind was faster than she’d expected, frantic fingers in time with rapid footsteps weaving gusts that rustled her braids from afar. There was a downside to tangible light, vulnerable to legacies the Lord of All had surely grown to know well. Octavia knew exactly where Madrigal was going with this--or so she at least thought. Silver Brevada was a surprise.
The shrill, tingling notes that pierced the air resonated perfectly with Lyra’s song, as Octavia would’ve expected. The corresponding crystal, coagulating and shimmering in the wake of what dying starlight still persisted, was an equal blessing to Lyra’s Repose. It didn’t take much but their quick fingers in fluid harmony, fast upon every string and key as a Soulful melody and a Spirited ballad overlapped in utter unison.
Madrigal stole all the girl had to offer, every glistening shard ensnared in whirling gales that Viola could never hope to resist. Octavia doubted she’d ever want her precious ice back, given how every bursting breath into Silver Brevada brought forth yet more and more. She’d once recalled Madrigal as the sun, infernal and dazzling. Now, she was a blizzard, devastating and still just as focused. For how those round, gorgeous eyes still shimmered with the light she loved, Octavia’s own went wide. It wasn’t Lyra, for once, who kept such a ruthless chill from glazing Madrigal’s skin.
Of the chill the Spirited girl was given, then, she used everything she had. It was on the absolute cusp of Rani’s pause that Madrigal rebelled. Each strum sent wave after wave of spearing shards sailing down onto the Maestra in a hellish hailstorm. It was the first time Rani had budged, and not of her own volition. It wasn’t so much that the little Maestra had dodged as she had strayed from the path of Madrigal’s frozen fury, still surging upon her even now. Soft sidesteps became yet more effortful motions as Rani evaded every piercing blow, retaliation briefly unnecessary. Madrigal’s glare was almost as terrifying as the dead child’s own. It didn’t quite stack up entirely.
“Madrigal!”
He had a surprisingly good throwing arm.
The little knife that sliced through the air did so with a whoosh that left steel spinning high above, set solely on a collision course with distant, icy gales. Josiah cupped his hands around his mouth.
“Go for her throat! Keep her from singing! Remember, she’s already--”
If Madrigal had forgotten, then the speed with which she adapted to his idea was all the more horrifying. For her peace of mind, Octavia very much hoped she was incorrect. The innocent little blade was no more immune to her wrathful storm than the jagged hail she’d already trapped within, although it was the latter that she opted to unleash in full. Like a weapon, Madrigal offered Rani every ounce of stolen frost she had left over. Still, Rani didn't strike back.
Octavia wasn’t ignorant, regardless, to the same gentle glow painting her fingertips. For what she couldn’t hear of the song that surely escaped the girl’s lips, she could at least see cryptic and untranslatable words mouthed in silence. In that way, every shard was lost on her. Octavia hated that that, too, was lovely. Each crystalline burst beneath Rani’s searing touch was enough to tint the air with sparkling beauty not unlike snowflakes. It made for a solid distraction. Octavia wasn’t sure exactly what part of her had been content to think Madrigal would’ve actually grabbed the knife.
It was far faster when wrapped in her vicious winds, a projectile Octavia could hardly track with her eyes. It was outright unpredictable, wielded with such precise control that it genuinely terrified Octavia. Madrigal’s song was all the more violent, her guiding gusts all the more streamlined and narrow as they served to strike down the Maestra before her.
Where Rani could stand up to multiple blows, fingers alight and teeming with brilliance as they were, Madrigal’s speed was relentless. Even Octavia couldn’t tell how she knew where the blade was at any given point in time, surely trusting in Lyra’s melody above all else. Her fingers were an equal blur, and Octavia had half a mind to wonder if they’d snap clean in half under the weight of every note.
Rani couldn’t catch what she couldn’t see. It didn’t spare the delicate cloths that draped her deceased body, shredded at edges and hems. Every blow to the mortal material came with such force that Octavia briefly wondered if it was Madrigal’s winds alone that were responsible. She knew better. She wasn’t even sure that it was intentional, given the velocity that continued to build with every last spin of Madrigal’s demonically-fast vortex. There was a knife in there, somewhere.
And when the Spirited girl was satisfied, Octavia found it much the same as Rani. She wasn’t content to simply slit, outright slashing at the little Maestra’s throat again and again. It was violence on every side, be it left, right, or even bursting hard against the place her vocal cords called home. She encircled, she stabbed, and she beat upon the dead girl’s tender skin over and over with a ruthless speed that left Octavia breathless. Her control was perfect, her aim more so. The way by which Rani was powerless to do more than turn her head beneath the recoil was promising.
The lack of blood wasn’t. When Madrigal’s assault stilled, it came with a little blade stolen by immortal hands. Rani didn’t need speed, content to embrace patience alone as she withstood every blow. Not a scratch rested on her skin, and Madrigal audibly gasped. It was all the girl could do to retreat, backpedaling as fast as her feet could carry her as her stormy song persisted.
Octavia wasn’t sure if she’d noticed the way Rani’s hands were just as patient, fizzling out with the onset of her stilled lips. Her eyes, for what Octavia could see beyond veiling luminescence, landed on the knife, fingers curling around the hilt gently. They uncurled just as gently, too, and there was nothing to clatter upon as the blade fell to what little rested below.
“Are you serious?” Renato shouted, his voice more so tinted with aggravation than fear.
“Don’t let up!”
It wasn’t a soul of ice that came to offer up all it had to Madrigal’s gales. This duet, at least, Octavia had seen recently. It was still every bit as gorgeous as it was in Velpyre, each ember that Royal Orleans could blast into the open air snatched up without hesitation by a gusting storm. If it wasn’t Lyra that steered Madrigal’s hands, then this was all the more intimidating. Octavia held her breath.
As before, her control was perfect, and Harper’s power was divine. The unforgiving flames that burst forth into her gusts sent every stream surging with glorious scarlets and oranges. His breaths were just as perfect as the girl’s motions, and he lit her up with everything he had. Madrigal didn’t flinch beneath the blaze, enveloped as she was in his unfathomable heat. It was a miracle that her winds didn’t outright melt.
Rani surrendered her patience. Her close range to the Spirited Maestra, her fingers almost buried in the roaring flames that passed her by time after time, left little room for the same surging luminescence. Instead, the brilliance that bubbled to the surface of her palms was more than enough, the child’s skin besieged by light that once again proved to be as holy as her Muse. Octavia still had half a mind to wonder if Madrigal could steal it, somewhat tangible as it was.
Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author's preferred platform and support their work!
She cocked the bow against the strings of the violin regardless, steadying her aim as was necessary. She’d canceled out light with her own twice over. Tangible or not, Rani’s should’ve been no different. This time, granted, her aim would matter far more. She never needed it, as it turned out.
The fiery, stolen wrath that rode upon every gale erupted against the stars in Rani’s palms as the Maestra cursed Madrigal with them in earnest. Royal Orleans was an unwavering blessing, and Harper’s breath was just the same as he gave all he could give time and time again. He was fuel to her sun, and Madrigal crashed against the bursting radiance with such ferocity that she threatened to birth new stars of her own altogether. The resulting display was downright blinding enough that Octavia could hardly look, and the urge to shield her eyes was overpowering. Still, she didn’t dare lift the bow from the strings--not for how every searing ray lie in waiting just inches away from her steadied fingers.
Should the Spirited girl falter, Octavia resolved to strike without hesitation. It wasn’t as though she could see well enough to do so otherwise, for how the rage of the wrathful sun itself burned fiercely against light equally scathing. Every lashing flame and every exploding flare was a nova born between them, hellish and heavenly all at once. Where Madrigal pushed, Rani pushed back. For how she struggled to gain ground, her teeth gritted and her fingers taut upon every string, Octavia watched Madrigal's eyes narrow ever further.
“Viola!” she cried.
The Soulful Maestra in question flinched. “Are you sure?”
Madrigal nodded, never once tearing her eyes away from Rani. “I can take it!”
For the apprehension Octavia saw Viola swallow regardless, Silver Brevada on her lips once more was a solid answer. “R-Right!”
If Madrigal was devoid of the touch of an Apex, Octavia couldn’t quite process the idea. It took only one song, even if her grip against the harp was to tighten ever further, to split her gales nearly in half. It wasn’t quite even, given the stray gusts that still escaped her rippling streams. The embers that fled from her well-controlled, still-stolen inferno weren't caught again, fizzling quickly into the open air. It hardly mattered, for how much more occupied her attention became. It was two powerful breaths in tandem that she now claimed as her own, two melodies and legacies so opposite one another that came together in her hands.
Octavia could hardly believe her eyes, given how effectively Madrigal once again stole every ounce of crystalline violence Viola could offer to her raging storm. She was ruthless, descending onto Rani on every side with hellish fire and ice alike. It was as dazzling as it was brutal, and Harper's Willful flames left Viola's Soulful hail shimmering gorgeously as they spiraled forth.
Rani still didn’t falter, although there was something exceedingly satisfying in seeing the little Maestra forced to put up a stronger fight--not that Octavia would’ve wished it. Her hands were aloft, the senseless verse that tumbled from her throat bringing yet more incandescent sparkles budding onto her fingertips. The brilliance surging along her skin, gracing her palms in full, wasn't localized for long. Yet again, it cut a path to the onslaught of legacies before her. Heaven’s light at her leisure was devastating, every white-hot star that bubbled and boiled at her touch equally destructive at birth.
For the assault they’d launched on her, she was a light in and of herself that shone right back. Had Madrigal’s gales not been as rapid and rushing as they were, Octavia again wondered if relentless radiance would’ve been enough to strike her down. The thought was horrifying--as was the realization that Rani was somehow capable of standing up to three legacies at once. There was only so much to be done with a steady stream, and Octavia feared for its predictability.
She raged against it, then. She’d never been a solid fighter up close, and Stradivaria’s light was more than lethal even from afar. It wasn’t worth canceling out Rani’s own, which still continued to elude her eyes directly even now. To strike at her hands would’ve been most effective. Buried in radiance as they were, lost in the abundant novas that pulsed along every inch of her touch, Octavia could hardly hope to find them at all--to say nothing of the other three legacies blighting her at nearly every angle.
She’d already been disruptive once, and it was a strategy she could go for again. She’d never lost her rays, readied as they were along the strings. It took only seconds to cock the bow and still them like the arrows she knew them to be, the swift motions of her wrist that followed enough to send them sailing onwards. Once more, she didn’t necessarily have to hit. Still, to do so would’ve been a plus, and Octavia was grateful to have gotten extremely close. Rani only had two hands, after all.
It wasn’t enough to shake her, but it was more than enough of a distraction. Where Madrigal’s storm of soul and will besieged the girl from the left, fiery spirals and crystalline spears still ruthlessly targeting the little Maestra, Octavia was just as brutal on her right. Every hurried slash of the bow across each string brought forth what of her own radiance she could draw to challenge the Apex of Heart, humble as she knew it to be by comparison. She braced herself as best as she could against the nothingness below, trusting in the little she could cling to beneath her feet. It was stolen light, too, which she was forced to trust in as she took all that Stratos could hold.
Again and again did Octavia embrace the throbbing brilliance that rushed through her blood, the stars pulsing beneath her skin and bursting from her fingertips. Sometimes, she met Rani’s own, and the resulting boom came far too close to the Maestros who fought nearer than she would've liked. She was intangible. Rani was not. Still, light was light, and she’d had practice. How fast she could play was of greater concern, compared to how quickly a Maestra could sing. That, too, was a thought weighted enough to make Octavia sweat.
For all it must’ve taken to carry the violence of two songs alongside her own, Octavia could visibly see Madrigal’s muscles straining somewhat. Her heart raced, and she struggled to play yet faster to compensate. Every vicious note she possessed struck deep into the fray, exploding on contact with luminescence still brighter than her own. She had half a mind to wonder if the residual embers that twinkled in the wake of her assault were a threat, for how they lingered endlessly.
There was fear in her heart, largely born of the concept of wasted effort. Under no circumstances would Harper or Viola have the capacity to face Rani head-on. Madrigal was a lifeline, a catalyst by which their fiery and frozen melodies were augmented and delivered with punishment in mind. If she faltered, there was little they could do--even in tandem. Still, Madrigal pushed with everything she had, her speed surprisingly sharp even in the wake of her strain.
“Let me have it!”
“Right!”
For every boom Octavia had brought down onto Rani’s light, there were those that were far, far stronger than her own. Her soldier didn’t let a single shard or ember go to waste, let alone the stormy velocity that Madrigal had so carefully gathered. Every unhesitant slash and swish of his wrists brought with it bursts that sent their efforts forward at speeds unmatched.
What had once been hurtling streams now became full-on bullets in earnest, each boom landing Rani squarely in his line of fire. Renato hardly needed to channel his momentum in any capacity, not for how the intermissions of vivid explosions at his back brought him surging forward like a comet. He was, perhaps, even more rapid than Madrigal’s vortex--a sight that never failed to be mildly terrifying each and every time Octavia had seen it.
It paid off splendidly, given the unfathomable force with which the will of fire and a soul of ice crashed down onto the little Maestra. He showered her with a hailstorm of crystal and flames alike, the latter outright splintering into a searing rain that flickered viciously. For how Madrigal still squeezed out every last note she could, Renato, too, clung to as much velocity as she could give him. Octavia was absolutely stunned by the quality of his aim, and each lightning-quick boom still somehow evaded the Maestros in the process. He threaded the needle with aplomb. It was Rani alone who endured every blow.
To her credit, she did so with startling grace. Still, it was enough to push her back, and that in turn was enough to make Octavia’s heart skip a beat. The girl's focus was split, her repulsive radiance equally so. She struggled to keep up with the icy inferno besieging her at a blinding speed. It wasn’t so much that Rani solely clung to defense as it was that the tides had turned, and Octavia refused to lose the window she’d been given.
She played faster. She moved closer, even with Josiah locked firmly in her shadow. The way by which he did the same, even utterly unarmed with his knife by the wayside, was both admirable and worthy of scolding. Octavia didn’t have the time to indulge the latter, and she indulged in the comfort of his warm support instead. She could only pray he wouldn’t contribute in the same manner as their last bout with light.
Where both Willful and Soulful breaths were fragile and limited by time, powerful as they were, her soldier was relentless. The well of stamina he possessed was abnormal to a horrifying degree. Octavia resolved to exploit every last bit of it, and she hoped he wouldn’t mind. It was what he’d signed up for, after all. When she saw him roll up his sleeves in the slightest, with or without prompting, she had her answer.
“Back me up, braids!” Renato shouted.
“Promise that you trust me!”
Even from here, the confidence behind his splitting grin was contagious. “Not a doubt in my mind!”
Octavia knew he’d dodge. He’d done it before, even if she never quite knew how.
She was half-convinced he could outright sense every bursting beam that raced far too closely past his skin, surely grazing him at least once over every ten or so times. Still, it didn’t surprise her one bit that he was undaunted all the same. Again did Renato forgo his prior reliance on gathering momentum the mortal way, embracing the unbelievable recoil that accompanied deadly speed. The Harmonial Instrument that turned him into a weapon himself was enough to counter Rani’s frontal assault--one-sided as it had largely been up until now.
The strength of sound beat down upon the little Maestra from above, behind, left, right, and every direction in between. Boom after boom at nearly point-blank range was enough to force her back. Rani was ambulatory, more than likely against her will, as she backpedaled beneath the weight of his blows. It wasn't enough to still her hands, and the radiance surging through her glimmering palms was offered up to the Strong Maestro from far too close a distance. Octavia wasn’t ignorant to the way he unsuccessfully flicked his wrists upwards beneath Rani's own no less than thrice--a failed attempt to shatter the very hands that sought to take him down. She could see a glance of true irritation pass fleetingly by Renato’s face at least once.
The fact that he had the courage to face the Apex of Heart head-on was as terrifying as it was emboldening, and she met his bravery with all she could offer. Octavia wove between their gap as carefully as she could, accommodating his reflexes where applicable. Her rays collided with Rani’s hands once over, crashing brutally down onto the same fingers Renato had fought to snap in half just moments before. It wasn’t nearly enough to do the same. Still, it was more than enough to send Rani’s pulsing beams scattering like fizzling starlight. It was as gorgeous as it was validating.
Renato’s grin, too, was brilliant enough to challenge the light that assailed him. For how fast his bursting smile had accompanied Octavia’s aid, she doubted success was the only reason. Octavia’s heart surged with equal confidence. She doubted she could reciprocate the same smile, given the situation. Instead, she honored Renato’s skill with what speed she could give him to match, playing as quickly as her frantic fingers would allow.
What she couldn’t cancel, he could catch. Octavia wasn't sure if it was intentional--although she knew his reaction time to be horrifically quick. The tip of Mistral Asunder forced back Rani’s erupting starlight with eruptions of the boy’s own, every flick of cherry oak returning her violence with a remorseless boom. At close range, the result was striking, for how Renato practically left a nova of his own in the wake of his blows.
The pooling clouds of radiance that hung in the air between the two Maestros was questionable. Octavia feared Renato would be burned outright, and there was little she could do to counteract the dazzling debris. If Renato cared, he didn’t show it, and he moved ever faster. He was most definitely hitting Rani, whether with his own prowess or that which he returned to its rightful owner. Whether or not the delivery was meaningful was impossible to tell from her current distance, even nearer as it was. Octavia knew that he, too, couldn’t go forever--Strong or not.
“She’s losing ground,” Josiah observed hurriedly, his voice almost in her ear.
“But I can’t tell if we’re actually doing any damage!” Octavia countered, never halting her lustrous song as the Strong Maestro kept up his assault.
“Your light is strong enough to counter hers,” he argued anyway. “If you hit her with everything you’ve got, we might get somewhere!”
Octavia's eyes widened. “That’s what I’ve been trying to do! That’s what we’ve all been trying to do!”
“No, listen! I already know she’s not normal. Her light is vulnerable against their legacies, but yours isn’t! You and Faith, you were evenly matched. Tangible or not, your light canceled hers out. With one exception, no other legacy can fully counter your light except light. In this case, if it’s you against her, it’s possible that you’re the strongest weapon we’ve got! If you give her everything you have, and I mean everything, you might be able to overpower her!”
“I’m just one person, Josiah!” she cried.
“You’re the Ambassador!” he shouted, too close for comfort so near. “I’ve seen what you can do! You did it on the train, you did it in Velpyre--”
Even in the midst of her song, Octavia shook her head. “That’s not how that works! That wasn’t me! I didn’t do it alone!”
“Your light is your light! I know what I saw!”
It wasn’t at all what he’d meant. She knew that well. For how she’d taken it, it was no less true.
Octavia had always asked. She’d always pleaded for Stratos' permission. She’d always been content to be his conduit, to soak up what her body was capable of enduring and little more. He’d stretched her to her limits, and it was exactly what she’d needed. It wasn’t even slightly under the same circumstances, and he’d blessed her blood with far more care--or so she liked to imagine. Of what she continued to steal from the Muse, even as she considered Josiah’s unintentional sentiment, he hadn’t resisted. Octavia wondered if Stratos had a choice, really.
If he could steal all that she possessed, sending her life crumbling to pieces, then this was the least he could do to repay her. It didn’t make the concept any less daunting, let alone cement the idea as any more promising. To overpower the Apex of Heart, out of harmony with her own deceitful Muse as she was, was a deranged concept. She had little to lose, for all that was left to cling to.
Octavia had everything to take, then, instead.
She took a deep breath, flexing her straining fingers around the bow. “What’s the one exception? What’s the…other legacy that can deal with light?”
Josiah was brave to meet her eyes, given how vulnerable it left him. Octavia followed the path they flickered along, and her heart raced just the slightest bit faster. She caught the edges of a smirk across his lips, fleeting as it was. It clicked in a way that made her blood burn, stars streaming in her veins notwithstanding.
“Renato, back off!” Octavia screamed, already shifting her shoulders in a different direction entirely.
The Strong boy did as he was told without question, either tip of Mistral Asunder erupting with a force that repelled him in reverse. He landed on his feet a ways away, safely out of striking distance of the little Maestra whose pulsing touch never wavered.
Again, Octavia took a deep breath. She almost hesitated to exhale, for how she feared the question would be rejected.
“Viola.”
The Soulful Maestra’s eyes snapped to her own, Silver Brevada rising to her lips almost on instinct.
“Do you…think you can take everything I have?” Octavia asked tentatively.
Of all the ways Viola could’ve answered her, she did so with a grin upon the mouth of a flute. “Thought you’d never ask.”
Octavia nodded, her heart pounding in earnest for a thousand different reasons. For once and once only, she found a smile in the midst of Heaven’s wrath.
She’d hardly needed to elaborate to Viola, and Josiah was silent much the same. She’d never seen so much crystalline glory gracing the air at once, firm and shimmering in the presence of Rani’s distantly-sparkling light. It was absolutely resplendent, angled cleanly and precisely in a way that left Octavia’s eyes wide with disbelief. It was perfect. It put every last sparkling shard of glass Octavia had ever seen in her life to utter shame, spread wide and accommodating all she could’ve envisioned.
Viola had more or less read her mind. Flecks of scattering frost danced delicately down to the nothingness at her feet, and the chilling aura of the incredible glacier above was palpable even below. Octavia prayed it wouldn’t break. It was all she could do to trust in the ice that her heart knew so well.
For how she could already hear Rani’s indecipherable words blessing the boundary with unfortunate beauty again, she had little time to close her eyes. She thought to berate Stratos. She thought to warn him of what was to come. She thought, for a brief moment, to ask anyway. She’d never done it alone, and she’d never taken what wasn't rightfully hers to have.
Octavia thought back to each time she’d become his sun, crushed and crumpled beneath the weight of the radiance he’d poured into her veins. She considered the sensation of her hands engrossed in his light, by which her skin upon the strings still tingled and fizzled even at rest. It was a breath in and a breath out, and he’d not given her time to breathe. She could hold her breath. It wasn’t as though he’d need it.
It didn’t make it any less of a trial by fire, and she resolved to cast only her song high. Octavia's eyes were firmly forward, and her mind rested somewhere in the depths of her heart. For all that she was, for the light she hoped to become, she wouldn’t ask him after all. She had a prayer, a vessel, and a soul of ice she trusted in with all of her being. That was all she’d need to work with. She settled the bow over the strings, braced herself against the emptiness below, and swallowed what fear she could.
It was more of a threat than anything. If her words were lost on them, she didn’t care. They weren’t for those she loved, anyway.
“I’m the Ambassador, damn it,” Octavia growled aloud, “and I’m taking everything you have!”
She inhaled with her blood, her soul, and her heart all at once. Her true breath was irrelevant, and it was largely a lust for an unbending burn that kept her fueling a fire she couldn’t fathom. She didn’t dare stop once to consider if it was working. She didn’t dare do anything except embrace what scathing warmth she could feel rushing through her veins and flooding her pores. It was strong, surging, a pressure not quite instant. It wasn’t the crushing blow she’d felt in Velpyre all at once, and yet she wasn't ignorant to the way it grew heavier all the same.
She was straining, she was searing, and she submitted to the sun scorching her soul from the inside-out. It didn’t hurt, although keeping her eyes open was just as much of a challenge as ever. To move her hands was a struggle, and to let her fingers fly was much the same. Octavia gritted her teeth, more than content to surrender to the scathing heat that grew fiercer, fiercer, fiercer still inside of her heart. It was hers, and she soaked up every last bit that she could handle like an infernal nova.
Octavia could hear Rani. She could hear the same song birthed once again, and she knew the distance to be great enough to pose more than an ample threat. The unrelenting tide of radiance that had blighted them before was a viable fear, especially given the way Octavia watched the little Maestra slowly raise her glimmering hands aloft.
She had no time for her heart to race yet faster, for how it was already bursting with scorching starlight she embraced in full. Octavia wondered at what point it was truly everything he had, let alone whether she was fully capable of stealing it all at once. She wondered if he’d ever been fully honest about just how much he’d given. The brighter she burned from within, the more she contemplated the latter. It felt that much sweeter, subsequently.
And where Rani’s heavenly melody cursed her with the surging sea of luminescence she’d feared, an angel of death casting judgment in the most lustrous way, Octavia challenged her with the wrath of a supernova. She was explosive, unable to resist the scream that ripped from her throat in time with the bow tearing across the strings. All that she had, blinding and hot enough to melt her soul, erupted upwards in a blaze of glorious radiance that shamed the sun. She didn’t dare look, nor did she need to. She found it again instantly, crashing down with heavenly judgment of her own into the searing sea.
Octavia’s song brought with it iridescence that split and shimmered, sharply focused in the most beautiful display of color she’d ever seen in her life. It was no less deadly and no less wrathful, abundant and haphazardly divided as her vivid rays smashed into Rani’s own radiance head-on. It was an even match, if not a striking difference in visuals.
Never had Octavia witnessed her light as anything aside from the soft ivories and gentle golds Stratos had blessed her with. Now, her violent rainbow left her blessed with the feeling of every Muse she’d ever guided in her hands once more. The splintered quantity was immense, scattering and streaming in the most resplendent of tidal waves. Silver Brevada’s desperate harmony amongst her own was perhaps even more gorgeous, fighting in tandem to support the sheer weight of one another’s prowess.
Octavia didn’t tire. She surged, and she surged, and she played, and she was a catalyst for light in and of itself. She didn’t let herself fixate on the way Rani’s own radiance was receding beneath the onslaught of her own, lest she grow complacent and let the sun rushing through her veins falter. She could hear them contributing.
She could hear Royal Orleans. She could hear Lyra’s Repose. She could hear Mistral Asunder. She could hear them raging of their own accord in perfect harmony with her own unbending, pouring radiance. She could feel Josiah in her shadow where he warmed her the most, his confidence in her undoubtedly contagious. She could feel love where Stratos offered her none, and it was perhaps the only thing that teemed more thoroughly through her bloodstream than adrenaline and starlight.
For them alone, Octavia wanted to live. She so, so desperately wanted to live.
In the moment where her unyielding onslaught of luminous hues met with zero resistance, she briefly had the heart to believe in victory. She made the mistake of indulging in hope, even if she still opted to cling to the burning breath of radiance that pulsed throughout her body. She alone was not radiant. There was a way by which time slowed as Rani threw her arms wide, the volume of her song far too loud for what could be expected of such a small child. It practically seared Octavia’s ears--to say nothing of what sustained, crystalline notes did to her body.
The single, sweeping pulse of brilliance that surged forth surpassed the prowess of her own by miles, far more befitting of the Apex of Heart. It was more than enough to dispel all that she’d so carefully crafted, summoned, and stolen. It didn’t truly burn, and yet it swept her clean off her feet all the same. Even devoid of true, searing agony, the pain she encountered was immense, and she cried out as her feet left the safety of nothingness below. Stradivaria came with her, and her loosened grip brought the violin and bow crashing down beside where her body came to rest.
To close her eyes was a reflex. To open them was even more of a struggle still. To prop herself up on her elbows was a nightmare, her body aching from an impact with what was--essentially--nothing at all. Octavia wasn't alone, and there were many who still remained bound to that which lie below. They, too, were severed from their partners, more or less defenseless. Some fought to reach for what was needed. Some didn’t, still disoriented in the wake of Rani’s radiant assault. Octavia’s blood rushed through her ears, and she leapt to her feet in a panic. Stradivaria was irrelevant, cast aside and useless.
And as Rani lifted her fingers, finding five sparkling tips to be enough for a singular Maestro, the panic that ripped through Octavia’s heart was unlike any she’d ever felt. The first notes out of the girl's mouth, a deceptively-lovely melody tumbling from her lips in time with the starlight in her palms, were enough to bring the Ambassador's pumping blood to a halt. They were enough to still her lungs, to squeeze her soul, and to threaten every last ounce of focus she could hope to garner.
The terror she found in their eyes as they raised their head slowly, unable to rebel in any capacity, broke her from the inside-out. It was all they could do to watch what was to come. Octavia refused to do the same, and her aching body struggled to move before her thoughts could catch up.
“Stop.”
She never made it a single step. She was greeted with steel, instead, taut against the skin of her throat. She felt the cold sting of metal before she found the drive to look down, and she heard the demand in her ear before she’d placed its meaning or speaker.
Rani did as she was told.
Her song ceased, as did the radiant sparkle that had boiled in her hands. Slowly, she turned her head, fixing Octavia with a look veiled in full by a different flavor of luminescence entirely. It was still a relief that she couldn’t see the child’s hollow gaze. It took her more than a moment to realize it wasn’t meant for her at all, rising instead just beyond her shoulder.
“What are you doing?” Ramulus asked calmly, even in the wake of battle.
The metal against Octavia’s throat was uncomfortable. It was sharp, pressing just a bit too deeply for comfort. She didn’t enjoy it. She didn’t particularly understand it. She wished it would stop, and it hurt each time she swallowed. She feared breathing. Her heart, confused as it was, slowed rather than raced. It was an odd feeling.
The breaths so close to her ear were labored, a stark contrast to the low and steady voice that countered the Lord of All. “One more move, and she’s my toll.”
Octavia’s eyes widened. She couldn’t turn around. She couldn’t move an inch, really, still bound as she was. She liked to imagine that the Maestra in question was bluffing. It didn’t make her acting any less painful, for how forcefully she was pressing the knife into Octavia’s skin. In her peripheral vision, she recognized the hilt.
“You would not harm one for whom you have battled so desperately,” Ramulus argued.
“If she’s going to die anyway, I’ll kill her and then myself,” Viola spat.
Breathing was starting to hurt. Octavia could hardly bring herself to, regardless.
“Viola?” she croaked, her words pained in more ways than one.
“Viola, what the hell are you doing?” she heard Josiah cry.
“If I kill her,” Viola tried, “she’s mine, isn’t she? I’ve figured that much out. If I kill her before you do, you’re stuck. You’ll never have her.”
Still, Octavia’s heart slowed further. It wasn't out of calm, but rather a raw and chilling fear she could barely pin down. It would not at all have been how she'd expected to go. She wondered how long it had taken Viola to come up with a plan like this, let alone to gamble with a life that wasn’t hers. Octavia had bet much the same life with the Lord of All before. It was the most dangerous bet that she could imagine, and Viola knew so little of the spider web.
“You would accept a world plagued by Dissonance evermore, then,” Ramulus reasoned.
“We’ve already accepted that, if it means she stays,” Viola spat.
“You would forsake others for the sake of one alone.”
Viola hesitated. “She’s our world! We’ve already done so much for you all! You’re telling me there isn’t a single other way you can get back? Nothing whatsoever? You’re the Lord of All!”
Rani shook her head. “It must be the blood of the Ambassador that stains my touch. The Ambassador is to become my toll, and that is all that is to be done. There is no alternative. I say once more, this is not a choice made out of malice.”
“Then forget it! Stay here and rot with the rest of us!” Viola growled.
“You would not kill her.”
Octavia yelped in pain as the pressure cracked her skin at last. The searing sting beneath the knife was more than enough to leave scarlet bubbles kissing the edge of the steel. Her heart dropped into her stomach. For how she could feel the vibrations of Viola’s hands shaking around the handle, her vision outright blurred. The world was spinning far too fast.
“Vi…ola?” she practically whispered.
She got no answer. The labored breaths that continued to plague her ears only quickened, and the blade only continued to tremble against her. Octavia didn’t beg. She refused to let it settle.
“Are you out of your mind?” she heard Renato scream.
Harper was just as frantic, distant as his voice was. “Knock it off!”
She didn’t want to cry. She didn’t want to so much as consider the possibility that Viola was being serious. Still, she could feel the tears beginning to prick at the edges of her eyes. She, too, was having trouble thinking of an alternative. Maybe it wasn’t the worst way to go.
“It’s…okay if it’s you,” Octavia murmured, struggling to keep her voice from cracking.
Viola didn’t answer. Every breath in her ear rattled on its way out.
Octavia's best attempts at composure didn’t last long. “I just don’t want you to get hurt.”
It was rapid. Viola was more or less choking, and every further press of the knife only brought with it more bleeding beads that rushed to meet steel. Octavia hated it. She closed her eyes.
“Would you stand for her, should you know what she has unleashed upon your world?”
Octavia froze.
The blade at her throat relaxed, the taut pressure weakening enough to leave red helplessly dripping down her skin. So, too, did the Maestra behind her find a startling calm.
He wouldn’t dare.
“Would you still struggle on her behalf, knowing she has undone that for which you have risked your lives?”
It was Octavia, instead, whose breath quickened against her will.
“What are you…talking about?” Viola asked hesitantly, her voice still painfully close.
“You will have your world of Dissonance, as you have requested,” Ramulus spoke. “The Ambassador has ensured it, whether now or upon the distant future.”
At the mention of her title, the eyes of every Maestro that traveled to her burned fiercely. The sting of their confused gazes against her skin hurt more than any knife at her throat ever could.
“Octavia, what’s he talking about?” Harper repeated.
“A world of…Dissonance?” Madrigal pressed much the same.
For how hard she’d battled to escape the grasp of the spider web, the Lord of All dragged her into it in full. No amount of writhing was working. Octavia pleaded with every ounce of desperation she could summon in her heart for him to stop.
Ramulus did the opposite.
“In defying that which was meant to keep your realm safe, she has instead endangered it for all time. It is an irreversible choice, one of which she was warned time and time again. She has unleashed that which had once brought the world to ruin, and will do so yet again. You will live in fear, then, for how the wrath of she who has sinned is unpredictable still. For what peace you claim to pursue, the Ambassador has squandered it in favor of one alone. For what love you claim to protect, the Ambassador has sentenced it to death.”
Their silence, too, burned. Four painful sets of eyes ran her through, perplexed and anxious in equal measure. One didn’t. It was the one Octavia feared the most. He, too, had touched that puzzle long ago.
“She…Who Brought the World to Ruin?”
Words spoken so softly, tinted with the same disbelief, were in stark contrast to the sharpness in his eyes. He didn’t quite shred her to pieces. Still, he pinned her down. It had been some time. This was the worst possible place he could’ve done it.
“Wait, who the hell is that?” Renato asked.
It was Josiah alone, though, to whom Octavia offered her wide eyes and terror. “I-I…”
“You…found her?” he pushed.
“I--”
“Did you…guide her?”
“Josiah, listen--”
He tensed, crossing his arms more so with discomfort than in confrontation. “What does that…actually mean?”
“Josiah, please, hear me out!”
“Does that mean she’s going to do it again?” he tried, the pressure in his voice more than notable.
Octavia shook her head desperately. “That’s not true!”
He wasn’t quite frantic. Still, even beneath his calm demeanor, she wasn’t ignorant to the way his hands were trembling. “Why would you take that risk?”
“Josiah, she won’t do it!” Octavia cried. “She’s not going to do it, I swear!”
“How are you so sure?”
“I know her! I know her heart!”
“So she’s just out there now?” he nearly cried right back. “Just…whenever she wants?”
“Josiah, she’s not going to do anything, I promise! I swear on it!”
“For the rest of our lives?” he shouted.
“What are you guys even talking about?” Harper interrupted loudly.
“Josiah, please, don’t!” Octavia begged, tears at last dripping down her cheeks in earnest. “Please!”
For how badly she’d feared unraveling the spider web before them, he did so surprisingly quickly. It was so like him. It was instant.
“All the Muses are here because one Muse screwed up,” Josiah explained sharply, gesturing with immense distress as he did so. “That Muse wrecked everything, and that Muse is the reason we have Dissonance in the first place! Apparently, that Muse still exists, and apparently, Octavia guided her, and now she can do it again whenever she wants!”
Madrigal flinched. “But how can one Muse--”
“She ended up Dissonant, and she destroyed the entire world!” Josiah yelled, his voice shaking.
“Josiah, she didn’t do it on purpose!” Octavia sobbed. “It really was an accident!”
His eyes struck her with the lightning she’d thought she’d grown immune to. Even in panic rather than ire, it still shocked her to her core. “Did she make it to Above this time, then?”
Octavia swallowed what sobs she could. The effort was futile.
Josiah’s trembling voice rose as he aimed one pointed finger squarely into the nothingness beyond. “Octavia, did she make it across the boundary?” he repeated hurriedly.
Octavia squeezing her eyes shut briefly was all the answer he needed, if his reaction meant anything. When she opened them once more, his fingers were tangled tightly in his hair, and his labored breaths betrayed the calm he struggled and failed to reclaim.
“So this Muse is just…out there somewhere? Where did she end up?” Viola murmured.
Renato did the same. “And she’s…gonna do all this stuff again? Hold up, how the hell did she destroy the world if we’re right here? I mean, not including all this mess, it looks fine to me!”
Even as innocent as she knew Madrigal's question to be, it still tore Octavia’s heart in half.
“Why would you do that?” the Spirited girl asked softly.
Octavia didn’t bother restraining her sobs. “She deserved to be free, too! She deserved a second chance! She used to love the world, and everyone hurt her! She didn’t do anything out of hate, and she’s still capable of love! There’s things out there that she loves, I just know it! There’s people that she loves! What kind of Ambassador am I if I pick and choose who’s allowed to go?”
She was well aware of Rani watching her break down, silent and content to drink in her desperate rationale. She didn’t care. “She had a Maestro that loved her, and she loved him right back! She’s not evil, and she doesn’t hurt just for the sake of hurting! If you really think she’s going to do it again, then just…kill me now!”
“Does that mean that’s gonna be hanging over our heads for the rest of our lives, though?” Harper asked hesitantly, his voice more so tinged with fear than judgment.
“I wouldn’t have done it if I didn’t trust her!” she argued.
Ramulus’ voice, of all things, burned. “She is deceptive.”
“Stop it!” Octavia snapped, her face still blighted by tears.
“She had erred.”
She’d almost missed his voice. Her sorrowful eyes darted high. It was a reflex.
“She had…truly strayed from a rational path, and her heart was veiled by poisonous curiosity.”
For how his vessel still languished beside her, he was the last one she’d expected to intervene.
“Know, though, that she is…hasty. She is stubborn and hurried in her every action.”
For how he stared down the Lord of All, bound to a child as he was, she was enraptured by him.
“If she were to have brought the world to ruin twice over, she would have already done so.”
Rani didn’t waver, nor did she move. “You would defend her?” Ramulus spoke.
Stratos nodded, high above Octavia as he was. “I know of her heart. In her darkest moments, she was yet pure. If the Ambassador has led her to peace upon this world thus far, then she will embrace it forever more. If the Ambassador, pure of heart as she is, has placed her faith in such a misguided sinner, then I, too, will trust in that faith.”
The two Heartful Muses were silent for a moment. Octavia held her breath. It had been so long since she’d considered him beautiful. It had been so long since she’d looked. Stratos didn’t shirk or shy away, and she had his resplendent visage in full.
“I believed you to be more rational than this, Stratos.”
“I speak only of what I have witnessed with my heart, my Lord.”
It was not Octavia alone who was an audience to their disagreement. Every Maestro’s eyes had risen just as high and were just as wide as her own, although she highly doubted their hearts pounded equally as fast. She doubted they were filled with something even she couldn’t fully describe.
“Would you stand against me as I claim your own?”
Octavia didn’t want to hear his wordless answer again. The longer he was silent, the more confident she became in his dismissal of her life’s worth. Her soul hurt.
Octavia.
His words weren't for the Lord of All. They weren't for any Maestro but the one who’d once carried his vessel with such love and care. She eyed him silently.
There is exactly one alternative.
Octavia clung to his every word. She didn’t need to respond. She knew that he knew her heart inside and out.
I will beg of your trust to save your life. This is the only way.
She couldn’t decide whether to answer him from within or aloud.
What…do you mean? she ultimately decided.
For how still Stratos was, and for how they stared down one another without words aloud, Octavia wondered if the others knew what was happening. She doubted two mutual gazes could escape Rani’s own.
Let this serve as my apology, by which I have wronged you in every way.
She battled fresh tears. She didn’t want to hate him. She didn’t need to hate him.
I’m not mad at you.
Stratos shook his head, somewhat indifferent to her own apology. Our Lord can do that which we cannot. Of this, I am certain you are aware.
Octavia nodded silently. I know.
Nonetheless, Stratos continued, it is true that it must be the Ambassador who pays the toll. For what power our Lord possesses, it is imperative that the blood of the Ambassador carries him across the boundary. For he who has shaped this realm, it absolutely must be so.
Where are you…going with this? she asked.
He paused, eyeing her with the faceless gaze she’d never hated. I carry within me the blood of the Ambassador.
Octavia only watched him. I don’t understand. Me?
It is not you of whom I speak.
She tilted her head in the slightest. Stradivaria?
She…lives on, within my heart.
And the thought of her alone, too, flooded Octavia’s.
I will…transfer the toll.
Her eyes widened, and she recoiled beneath the striking weight of his words. You can do that?
For he alone, who can do what no other can.
But I’ve already witnessed it!
I am aware.
Then how is this supposed to--
You will do so again.
Octavia’s thoughts slowed. She turned his words over again and again, and still they didn’t click.
That doesn’t make sense. The only toll I’ve ever seen more than once is Mixoly’s, and that was by accid--
You will have a new toll.
And when it sank in, it did so with the grace of acid seeping into her veins. It seared her heart and melted down into every last ounce of her blood. Octavia shook her head slowly.
Is that even possible?
Once more, I say, for him and him alone.
And he’ll agree to that?
He will not.
Then how?
We shall be swift, and not for a moment shall I leave your side.
Stratos never did, to be fair.
Can I even…witness that?
You have done so for Mixoly, and of that, I am proud.
Octavia couldn’t fight the way by which her eyes watered again. That was just her memories, though!
It shall be much the same.
She wondered if the tears that spilled, fresh and tinged with sorrow she couldn’t control, were equally as confusing to those who didn’t understand. Stradivaria, I don’t want to do this!
I had never wanted this path for you. I hope this will serve as your truth.
Stradivaria--
Time and time again have I spoken of what she would have desired. Octavia, above all else, this is what she would have desired most. I swear this on all that I am.
“Stradivaria,” she whispered instead, her voice cracking instantly. It wasn’t subtle. She was well aware, for how many eyes fell to her at once.
You are beloved.
Taking hold of him was a nightmare.
You are adored.
Rising to her feet, too, was just as such.
You always shall be.
And for the last time in her life, Maestra or otherwise, she felt his warmth as she nestled him upon the safe haven of her shoulder yet again.
It was where he’d always belonged.
Place your bets!
