Harmony

The song of the Velpyre Church was not cast thrice daily, much to Octavia’s surprise. It was yet one more discrepancy between Seraphim’s Call and its shining twin so high above. Instead, Seraphim’s melody claimed the night thrice over with a startling gentleness--size be damned. The sound, then, woke her thrice over much the same. How the others slept through it so easily was beyond her. Just the same, her blood rippled and her soul resonated in the wake of every note. As before, it was as blissful as it was disorienting. It was much more welcome the first time. By the last, she was more or less permanently awake. It was a different kind of curse in the Cursed City.

Josiah hadn’t been lying about holding merit in the church, apparently. He’d arranged for their shelter, confined to one room and born of a literal church as it was. It was infinitely better than nothing, and she was more than grateful for his hospitality relative to their more-than-recent first meeting. There was an incredible irony to be found between the sanctuaries both above and below. In peaceful Velrose, the sheer nature of the grandiose church made even the image of sleeping inside impossible. In violent Velpyre, she didn’t dare imagine sleeping anywhere but its twin. It was one more discrepancy.

It hardly mattered. Sleep was impossible. Every attempt she made to bury her head beneath blankets in the wake of Seraphim’s song was fruitless. She groaned inwardly. Lately, she was beginning to wonder if she’d ever sleep normally again.

Just for a day. Help me get her out of here for just one day, and I can promise it’ll make managing the Dissonance much easier. I swear it.

If his words from last night were to be believed, getting the acolyte out of Velpyre was a temporary endeavor. For the pleading tone he’d taken in the process of asking, subtle as it was, she didn’t dare distrust him. Selena, too, was bound to one city alone. Octavia could check off yet another similarity between the acolyte and her counterpart above. It wasn’t as though she could fault, in any capacity, even fleeting ideas to leave such a sickening place.

This is all I’ll ask for.

Sonata’s reaction would be anyone’s guess. Octavia feared it, somewhat. To be granted permission to achieve compliance by any means necessary left a gray area. She wasn’t particularly certain this methodology would qualify.

Please.

It was to say nothing of the blossom and the flame, mutually venomous as they apparently were. She hesitated to recall the poem at all. She hesitated to be here at all.

If she couldn’t give up on Velpyre, she could at least give up on sleep. Clearly, she was not getting it back. She thought to bring Stradivaria, aimless as her path through a place so unknown would be. Still shuddered to consider the last several times she’d been caught alone and in danger, by which the instrument had been her only salvation. Still, this was a sanctuary from the darkened city beyond. The Velpyre Acolyte was not to be underestimated. She gave her utmost trust to the guardian of the Cursed City, well-acclimated or not. In that way, maybe she fit in with those of Velpyre in a different manner entirely.

Granted, the Velpyre Church was significantly less intimidating than its twin. It didn’t keep Octavia from getting lost by default, and she feared ending up in the unfamiliar depths of anything with the name “Velpyre” attached to it. The clergy existed, somewhere. She vaguely remembered the direction of Josiah’s room, although she didn’t dare wake him for her own comfort. The silence she found in between the song of Seraphim’s Call spoke to a sleeping church, if not a sleeping city beyond. Still, if there was a song, there was a Maestra. Where they could claim sleep in peace, Selena alone awaited in the depths of night as a guardian angel. Octavia checked off another similarity between the acolytes, two angels of a different kind entirely.

If she really struggled, she could almost recall the direction of the chapel. Seraphim’s continuing melody would’ve been of significant assistance, although she feared she’d utterly lose the ability to move at all once more. It took mild trial and error to make it that far. The slight differences between the doors helped, and she was fairly certain her guess was correct. It didn’t quell her hesitation, her palms flat against the wood as she mulled over the idea of entry. Whether it was worth anything was debatable. She thought to apologize. It was the best she could offer.

There was a brief moment where she assumed the acolyte had already gone to sleep as well, by which she would’ve been alone with only Seraphim’s Call for company. The idea wasn’t as unnerving as Octavia had expected it to be. Still, she caught streaming black tied back neatly, facing her in lieu of a gaze she couldn’t meet. She wasn’t aware if Selena knew she was there at all, really, given that her every gentle step was ignored. Only the creaking of the chapel doors at Octavia’s back served as a warning.

Even without turning her head, the acolyte’s voice was firm and clear. “What do you want?”

Octavia fidgeted nervously. “Uh, I just wanted to…see how you’re doing, I guess.”

Only then did Selena cast her gaze over her shoulder, her sharp eyes softening in the absolute slightest. “Oh. It’s you. I thought it was someone from the clergy.”

It was in stark contrast to how Sonata spoke to the clergy above. One more discrepancy. “Is it okay if I come in?” she asked quietly.

Selena’s gaze fell forward again, and Octavia was once more left only with restrained hair to show for it. “Yeah. Do what you want.”

Her words weren’t particularly inviting. Still, Octavia accepted the invitation regardless. Even the second time around, the organ was every bit as splendid to witness. Valkyrie’s Call was omnipotent, an all-seeing guardian that reigned marvelously from on high. So far below, she still chose to see Seraphim’s Call as a softer guardian in its own right. Her shuffling footsteps, muffled by interloping carpet, would’ve been far more awkward if not for its comforting visage. She appreciated the instrument. She was fairly certain its Maestra hated her.

Octavia claimed the opposite end of the pew, stiffening almost immediately. Any attempt to cobble together an apology left hasty words fizzling and dying on her lips. Selena had every reason to be irate. Were she the acolyte, she would’ve felt the same. She didn’t entertain the thought for a moment more, given the path it could’ve taken.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you.”

It was entirely possible the acolyte could read her mind. Selena’s soft words echoed off the walls of the spacious room, somewhat. Octavia flinched.

“N-No, I’m sorry, we shouldn’t have accused you like that. We didn’t know,” she quickly offered in return.

Selena sighed. “I know you didn’t know. You were just doing what you were told to do.”

Her words felt pointed, in a way. Octavia shifted uncomfortably in her seat, choosing her words carefully. “Do you…hate the Velrose Acolyte?”

Selena exhaled slowly. “I don’t know. I’ve never met her. I’ve never even heard her voice. Still, somehow, all she’s done is criticize me. It must be nice up there.”

Selena drew her knees up to her chest, curling up in the pew. Octavia was still robbed of eye contact, by which the acolyte only stared at her shoes instead. She was quiet for a moment.

“I wonder if anyone’s ever criticized her before,” the acolyte murmured. “I wonder if she’s ever gotten anything except constant praise and affection.”

Octavia had no idea how to answer, in truth. Any words of comfort may very well have been lost on the acolyte, given the apathy that plagued her face. She did her best.

“I…like your song,” she tried instead. “I heard you playing earlier. It sounds really nice.”

“Thank you,” Selena breathed, closing her eyes. “You’re one of the few people to think that, then.”

“How long have you been awake for?” Octavia asked.

“Most of the night. I don’t go to sleep until after the last song. I just don’t really feel like sleeping right now, is all.”

Octavia nodded. “It’s okay, I was having trouble sleeping too.”

“Did I wake you?”

“Everything wakes me,” Octavia groaned. “I think I’m turning into a light sleeper.”

For a brief moment, Octavia almost noticed the slightest of smirks. “My bad. I’ll never do it again.”

“If I’m what got you to stop playing, I think the church would kill me,” Octavia joked, resting her head lazily against the pew.

Selena scoffed. “We’re in the same boat there. I’m used to it, at this point.”

The chuckle that soon left Selena’s lips was empty, devoid of any genuine amusement. Her face matched, blank as it was. Octavia stiffened somewhat.

“What do you mean?” Octavia asked hesitantly.

Selena took one deep breath in full before responding. “I mean that you’re not the only one the church would be furious with. Not like that’s anything new.”

Octavia chose her words carefully once more. “What exactly…if you don’t mind my asking, what’s your relationship with this church, exactly? I mean, I know you’re the acolyte, but you keep talking about…criticism.”

“They hate me,” Selena responded plainly, her words almost instant. She bundled them with a shrug. “Always have and always will. Too much Dissonance and not enough salvation.”

The acolyte opened her eyes, offering them to Octavia at last. When Octavia didn’t answer, Selena instead seemed to roll her eyes at nothing in particular. Octavia winced.

“I’m sure Josiah already spilled all the details there,” she continued. “Not much else I can say. I’m used to being hated in every way imaginable.”

Octavia considered crossing a line not hers to tread. She took the risk. “Have you ever…thought about leaving?”

Selena laughed once, a single and sudden sound that outright startled Octavia. “Of course I have. I’m not much more than dead if I screw up, which I will. They know better.”

“You say that like the church will kill you,” Octavia murmured.

“They wouldn’t dare. They’re running out of Maestras.”

Octavia froze. She almost sounded serious.

With one look at Octavia’s face, Selena really did smirk. “They’ve never killed any, if that’s what you’re thinking. The Velpyre Acolyte is too precious to them, but they can’t always guarantee they’re going to get another.”

Pressing was somewhat horrifying. She did it anyway. “What…happened to the last acolyte?”

Selena’s smirk faltered somewhat, never quite evaporating in full. “She got away.”

Octavia fell silent. Given how the acolyte kept eyeing her after every sharp revelation, she had half a mind to wonder if Selena was enjoying drinking in her discomfort. She was justified, somewhat, for what they’d already cursed her with. Octavia kept her mouth shut.

“My mother was the last acolyte,” Selena went on. “When she met my father, the church was so excited to see her give birth to a healthy baby girl. I didn’t even make it to a year old before she escaped with him. Never actually met either of them.”

Once more, Octavia could offer nothing. Once more, Selena went on.

“They can’t kill the acolytes, sure,” she admitted with yet another shrug. “That doesn’t mean they can’t break them, if that’s what keeps them in line.”

She couldn’t look the acolyte in the eyes. She gave her gaze to Seraphim’s Call instead. It was too much at once. Her stomach was beginning to hurt.

“Do you want to see something?”

She didn’t, more than likely. Octavia nodded anyway. Given where this entire conversation had steered, she feared the worst.

When the acolyte brushed her tethered hair forward upon her shoulders, the nape of her neck was laid bare to see. Octavia inched closer hesitantly as Selena lowered her head, provided that was where she was intended to be looking. She just barely had enough room above the robes to witness Selena’s skin at all, soft olive shockingly offset by grotesque purple. It was more than scarred, strained tissue pulling far too taut on her innocent neck. The mark was almost gruesome, poorly-healed and stricken by the haunting echoes of charred veins on several sides. It was the last place Octavia expected to see the Harmonial Crest, somewhere between neatly-pressed and not.

“What…is this?” she finally murmured, well aware that she was staring.

Selena was quiet for a moment, tense and still as she clung only to her parted hair. “This is what I mean to the church. This is what I mean to this place, too. This is all I am.”

Octavia’s silence only enabled her further. “Just don’t touch it. It never healed properly. It hurts.”

“It’s a…tattoo?” Octavia tried.

She heard Selena scoff. “It’s a brand, actually. Like I’m a damn animal.”

Curiosity morphed into abject horror. She was probably going to vomit.

“That’s…awful. Who did that to you?” Octavia asked, her voice wavering.

“The clergy, who else?” Selena snapped.

Octavia jumped at her harsh words. It took several moments for the acolyte’s tone to settle with a sigh.

“This is normal. This is what’s expected of us--of me, really. There’s no use for a worthless flame. In the eyes of the clergy, there’s nothing more worthless than someone who can’t control all the mess this God-forsaken city has to offer. The bastards up above always insist it’s my fault whenever Dissonance sneaks its way up there. Each and every time, I pay the price for it. They don’t care, and they don’t want to care. They have no idea what happens down here.”

Octavia stared at the twisted brand for an eternity. It was almost a relief when the acolyte freed her restrained locks, night-black obscuring charred purples once more. Still, Octavia knew it was beneath, forever clinging calmly. The knot in her stomach couldn’t be undone.

“They can’t kill acolytes, but they can break them,” Selena repeated disdainfully. “They’re running out of ways to break me, though. I’ll leave it to them to think of something more evil. This city is really good at that.”

Octavia inhaled deeply, battling her surging nausea. “Who’s the next acolyte after you?”

Selena shook her head, still turned well away from the Maestra. The motion of her tethered hair in the process still kept the scar concealed, at least. “None. It’s the responsibility of the acolyte to make another one. I’m an only child, so I don’t have any siblings who can step up.”

Slowly, the acolyte’s eyes found the ceiling alone as she straightened up. “I’ll kill myself before I have kids in this city. I’m never subjecting anyone to this Hell. If I get my way, this city dies with me.”

She knew she should stay silent. She knew it wasn’t her place to relay the news. For all the forsaken acolyte had entrusted her with, she couldn’t help it. It slipped out, more or less.

“Josiah wants to get you out. He wants to help you escape, just for a day.”

Selena’s eyes snapped to hers in an instant, and Octavia flinched. There was no hostility to be found, nor any unspoken cynicism. She expected sarcasm, somewhat, if not a bitter laugh. It was what she was growing to expect from the acolyte thus far. It was justified, if her words were to be believed. The softness in her eyes was extremely jarring, by comparison.

“Really?” Selena asked, her voice equally soft.

Octavia nodded. “He said he thinks it’ll help. With everything, I mean.”

She forewent the “with doing your job” portion of that statement. It would’ve been cruel. In truth, Sonata’s assigned mission was beginning to lose precedence. Her prioritized acolytes were beginning to switch places, ever so slowly. The revelation left her heart beating just the slightest bit quicker.

“I don’t know what’ll happen if I’m caught,” Selena murmured. It was the most vulnerable her voice had ever sounded.

“We’ll help. All of us will,” Octavia reassured. “He has a plan. It sounds like he really cares about you.”

The blank look on her face was enough to leave the Maestra backpedaling awkwardly. “I-I mean, I don’t know him that well, but that’s definitely what it looks like.”

Selena didn’t object. Her faint smile was unmistakable. “I know.”

The silence that settled between them was equal parts uncomfortable and not. Octavia didn’t dare shatter it. She left that right to the acolyte alone.

“I’ll do it. I have absolutely nothing to lose. At this point, I don’t care what happens to me. There’s so little they can do that they haven’t already done.”

Octavia smiled, risk be damned. “I’ll let Josiah know. We’ll come get you tomorrow once he gives us the plan.”

“Tomorrow?” Selena asked, her eyes widening slightly. “So soon?”

Octavia didn’t dare speak of Sonata, nor the slight obligation as to a timely solution. It was a compromise she assumed was mutual, if not simple enough to conceal. “Is tomorrow an issue?”

Selena only grinned, a welcome sight for an otherwise solemn acolyte. “Tomorrow can’t come fast enough.”

In truth, Octavia was afraid. Where she’d been a messenger once, she was a messenger still. Where the blossom threatened to overpower her senses, the flame threatened to burn her alive. Between two worlds in either direction, she could still process little of both lives around which they orbited. Even so, if there was one burnt more harshly by the same flame, it was perhaps the one contribution she could offer to the Cursed City. In the deepest depths of the worst kind of darkness, there was hopefully one place her light could reach.

He was extremely smart. She learned that quickly enough.

Given how quickly Josiah had met each of them, their strengths had been accounted for almost instantly. He’d sized them up and broken them down in ways that left Octavia feeling outright vulnerable, and she had half a mind to wonder exactly how much he could read her. Every aspect of his plan was nearly flawless, and he dissected it into fragments she could understand. He went so far as to sketch a rough map of the city from memory, even. He was startlingly skilled at drawing. That wasn’t important right now.

It was simple enough, at least at a surface level--get out, steal one day of sunshine, and get in. With six accomplices--five Maestros, at that--the acolyte’s escape was all but ensured. It wasn’t as though those above knew what to look for of the acolyte below, isolated as the guardian of the flame was. So long as she doffed suffocating garments in favor of casual attire, Josiah insisted she’d blend in effortlessly. It still left those below, privy to the face of their beloved acolyte. The least of their concerns came with immovable guardians of another kind, by which those who monitored their singular escape route were not to be so simply distracted. It necessitated violence, swift and silent all the same.

Their volunteer was highly predictable. He was silent when he wanted to be, if the auction meant anything. He was still vehemently unstable, mentally or otherwise. Given the way Renato’s eyes more or less lit up at the concept of the task, Octavia continued to be certain that something was severely wrong with that boy.

Selena found her rest, fleeting as it was. “Tomorrow” for the acolyte meant little in the face of a nocturnal schedule, and Octavia hoped her time above wouldn’t be viciously blighted by fatigue. It was not Josiah alone who knew the schedules of the clergy by heart. It was both a bane and a blessing, by which the acolyte was practically inverse to those who tormented her relentlessly in the overlapping dusk and dawn.

She slept unperturbed in the light of day, fleeting meals and half-hearted leisure time notwithstanding. With the setting sun came monotony, by which Seraphim’s Call was to sing yet again. Per her own words, she’d earned enough independence to avoid prying eyes in the depths of night--for now. There’d been a story there, born of ruthless resistance. Octavia had thought to pry deeper, and yet held her breath all the same.

And, as such, Josiah seized upon that overlapping window. A resting acolyte was not to be interrupted, lest her song suffer for it--ironically. The cresting sun so high above, in every sense of the word, would flip their hourglass of freedom. Only with its descent would their hasty return be necessary.

Between getting her out, stealing the sky, and getting her in, it was the latter that posed the most difficulty. It was the one problem by which Josiah was forced to forgo his preference for stealth in favor of a genuine distraction. The clergy adored Maestros enough, and Octavia added it to her mental similarities list between the blossom and the flame.

They’d already dealt with one spontaneous performance above. Another below wouldn’t hurt, nor would it necessarily be unfathomable as a supposedly-appreciative gesture. From there, Selena was free to fake insomnia as necessary, should her wandering at odd hours be noticed.

Really, there was quite a bit more Octavia would’ve preferred her light to offer the Velpyre clergy, at this point. It was a sick thought. She couldn’t help it.

It was a strong plan, even with the handful of holes Josiah acknowledged were impossible to fill. Their window was brief, no more than one hour. It left both the Velpyre and Velrose Churches alike to escape in tandem. Velrose was perhaps even riskier, for how their own visages had become well-known. To accompany the acolyte’s every step would be exceedingly dangerous.

Selena would go first. They would go second. With the setting sun would come the inverse, approved as their descent was to those below--with more than enough room for repeated incapacitation of the guards, if necessary. She highly, highly doubted Renato would have qualms about doing it twice.

One hour to get out. Twelve hours above. One hour to get back in. Fourteen hours on edge. For the sake of an acolyte consumed by hateful flames, it couldn’t fail.

Selena was lovely in plain clothes, truthfully. Beyond the robes, she was far from an acolyte and one with the unholy world. The dress was sweet, although the lengthy sleeves and sprawling tights were somewhat disorienting. Clad in black, Octavia feared she’d melt beneath the summer sun above.

It hides the bruises, she’d been told upon pressing.

Selena looked good with her hair down, too. It hid something else, at least. Octavia tried once more not to remember it was there.

“We’re going to have to split up,” Josiah instructed upon the stone steps. “We’ll be a lot more obvious if we move as a unit, and there’s still plenty of people out at this hour.”

Octavia didn’t enjoy the multiple sets of eyes settling onto her simultaneously. It was becoming a trend. She flushed. “O-Okay, I’ll go with Selena and Josiah. Everyone else, meet up again at the entrance to Velrose. And, uh, Renato?”

He tilted his head.

It was an ironic request. “Please at least try to be quiet.”

He saluted with exaggeration and a grin to match. “Won’t let you down, ma’am.”

“You should take another Maestro with you,” Viola insisted. “Just in case. Selena doesn’t have access to her Harmonial Instrument. For today, she may as well not be a Maestra.”

“And that’s a good thing,” Josiah added with a smile, his eyes flickering to the visible discomfort crossing Selena’s face. “That’s the whole idea.”

When Selena returned his smile at last, Viola continued. “Bring someone who can play quietly in case there’s any trouble.”

That ruled out Harper immediately, really. Between Viola and Madrigal, Octavia settled for the latter by a thread. She seemed excited enough about it, beaming accordingly.

“Then we’re good,” Viola confirmed with a nod. “Harper, Renato, and myself. You, Madrigal, Selena, and Josiah.”

“Then we should get going,” Harper added. "We need as much time as we can get."

Octavia cast her eyes high towards the ceiling. The faintest traces of starlight still just barely trickled through the little cracks overhead. The night sky beyond speckled the city with slight reprieve in the face of infinite darkness, and it was all they could cling to. The streetlamps tried, at least. Without the pitiful crumbs of sunshine that tumbled down below during the day, their visibility was awful. For once, it wasn’t as much of a curse. She resolved to exploit it with everything she had.

They split just as quietly as they’d spoken, and moved perhaps just as swiftly. To follow the main road back was one thing, and yet Selena had no such privilege. Planning wasn’t the only thing Josiah was good at, apparently. His navigational skills in Velpyre rivaled Harper’s own in Coda, and Octavia would never have found every twisting alley or corner of her own accord. He hardly threw his gaze over his shoulder to confirm their continued pursuit, and yet his pace was simple enough to match. Whether or not it was intentional as he wove between poorly-lit building after building, cloaked in darkness, Octavia was unsure.

Selena was the center of their little shield, never far from those who secured her every fleeing step. She didn’t dare slow, and neither did Octavia at her side--nor Madrigal at her back, eyes flickering in their wake time and time again. At least the latter had stopped trying to run in reverse, at this point.

“Are you holding up okay?” Octavia asked the acolyte, her volume low.

Selena nodded, her pace still swift. “I’m fine. I’m a little tired, but I’ll probably feel better as the day goes on. Maybe the sun will help. I’ve slept enough for a lifetime already.”

“I’m sorry. I know I probably kept you up,” Octavia murmured.

She shook her head. “It’s no problem. It was my fault. I’m the one who was awake in the first place.”

The silence that blanketed them came on the heels of the darkness, all-encompassing and oddly safe. They stole into the depths of the Cursed City without hesitation, trailing Josiah’s every confident step. Several of his navigational choices were somewhat disorienting, granted. At least once, he rounded multiple buildings in such quick succession that Octavia nearly tripped. She didn’t, and that was what mattered. One glance over her shoulder found Madrigal still well on her guard, the Maestra’s own eyes darting diligently in every direction. She caught Octavia’s, and she offered a brilliant smile in return. Octavia tried to give one back.

“Octavia?”

Hearing her own name out of the acolyte’s mouth was jarring, quiet as it was. “Yes?”

“Why would you go this far for a stranger like me?” Selena asked softly. “We just met. You could get in serious trouble.”

She was very well aware. She’d been doing all she could to ignore it. Even now, she didn’t so much as try to imagine Sonata’s reaction if she were to find out. Regardless, she shook her head with a strained smile.

“Done it before and I’ll do it again. It’s just what we do,” she joked. “No one deserves to be alone like that.”

Selena’s smile was genuine, and Octavia’s fears slowly melted in its wake. It was worth it.

“You could even call us defenders of justice, maybe. Right, Madrigal?” she teased, glancing over her shoulder once more.

Madrigal didn’t respond. Madrigal didn’t move forward at all. She’d stopped walking entirely, at some point, rooted firmly in place. It was an instinct for Octavia to slow to a halt, by which the others did the same.

“Madrigal?” she asked again.

Madrigal was silent. Octavia couldn’t peer down the same alleyway from her current angle, although the Maestra at her back seemed to have a perfectly unobstructed view. She didn’t so much as blink. Octavia checked.

“Did you…see something?” Josiah asked quietly, equally still.

She’d seen that look on Madrigal’s face exactly once, icy and piercing. Octavia was hallucinating the oozing hostility, possibly. It was still every bit as unnerving to so much as witness compared to last time. She didn’t ask what was on the other end of that spearing glare. She wasn’t certain she wanted to know.

“Madrigal?” she tried once more.

Nothing.

“Madrigal,” Octavia spoke firmly. “We need to go. Now.”

She caught Madrigal’s gaze. She didn’t want it, for how the slowly-drifting stare briefly lingered over Octavia. She flinched beneath the cold eyes that stung her, still unblinking and notably glassy. The sight was lost on Selena and Josiah, surely. It was more than enough to leave her heart racing, by comparison. She barely breathed. Neither did Madrigal.

The wait for the tension to break was agonizing. Madrigal finally blinked, the glass atop her pupils shattering to pieces in the process. Once more did her eyes water in the slightest. This time, there came no smile of reassurance, nor bubbling words to ease Octavia’s pounding heart. Instead, her previously-piercing gaze fell to the ground.

“Okay,” she said softly, her voice more than monotone.

Octavia wanted to press. She wanted to pry. In the moment, Selena took priority, and she had little to do but run. Madrigal following in her wake, silently or otherwise, was a relief.

Selena and Josiah, to their credit, were content with the same. Madrigal was quiet for the remainder of their hushed escape. Octavia was both relieved and unnerved by her peace all at once. As to Josiah, she was sincerely impressed by their lack of intervention the entire voyage to the front gate, by which not one stranger crossed their path. Disorienting or not, he absolutely seemed to know exactly what he was doing with every unhesitant turn.

She almost expected to find a dead body somewhere in the dark, concealed as it would be. It was as cliché a fear as it was rational in the Cursed City. She didn’t dare voice the concern aloud, lest Selena give validation to her concerns.

She worried for two dead bodies, at least, at the foot of the gate steps. She rightfully exhaled the moment she reached the staircase, high-rising as it was and every bit as ominous from below. The others were there. She recognized the prone attire, awkwardly splayed and very much unmoving. Octavia raised an eyebrow at Renato. If he confirmed her fears, he was next.

Spinning a drumstick lazily in one hand, the boy bowed with far too much flair. “Not dead. You can clap for my handiwork, though. Please, don’t be shy.”

Selena snickered at her side. Simply seeing her happy in some capacity, morbid or otherwise, was enough to make Octavia smile.

Still, she’d expected Madrigal to literally applaud. She’d expected Madrigal to acknowledge his carefully-tailored prowess in some capacity, if not to at least interact with the boy. Instead, the Maestra was perfectly neutral. The light tinting her eyes where darkness threatened to steal it away meant nothing. Her behavior wasn’t entirely unnoticed. Renato tilted his head.

“You…okay, Maddie?” he tried weakly.

For him, Madrigal fought for a strained smile with a shake of her head. “It’s nothing,” she answered quietly, her words hollow.

Viola side-eyed Octavia. She caught the glance, and she knew its intent. It would have to wait.

“Alright,” Josiah interrupted. “Next step.”

Octavia had never gone up. To be staring upwards into the ascending darkness was jarring, for how it narrowed rather than opened. Coming in was already constricting on its own, and that had relaxed quickly enough. Being compressed was going to be deeply uncomfortable by comparison. She could capture the tremendous iron barrier from below, sealing her deep in the depths of the Cursed City. Much the same flaming insignia was carved into the metal underside, and she was sure to have her flame on the way to the blossom.

This time, there was no deceivingly-innocent little bell to offer an ascent, as had been the case during her plunge into the dark. The lever was crass, flaking and iron in its own right. If its intended purpose was to be believed, given its home beside the stairs, Octavia assumed it saw little usage. It wasn’t a particular surprise.

Rusting or not, Josiah didn’t hesitate. “This is it. Stick to the plan. You guys get out first. Selena and I will come out a little while after.”

Octavia nodded. Her silent affirmation echoed fourfold. Selena’s best attempts to maintain a solemn face were blighted by a creeping smile, and it was not at all lost on Octavia.

“Octavia,” the acolyte spoke softly.

Josiah threw his full body weight into the effort of shifting the lever. He was either immune or ignorant to the flaking rust staining his fingers, and Octavia could believe both. As above, there came the slightest of delays before the same creaking and scraping of metal greeted her ears. Beyond the confines of one room alone, it was a slightly softer sound. It was by no means fully quiet, and she harbored at least mild concern for the noise seeping into the city. In contrast, the specks of candlelight tumbling through the widening cracks were splendid, a far cry from the pitiful crumbs of sunlight offered as an afterthought to the Cursed City. It was Heaven’s light in a hopeless Hell.

“Yes?” she said, turning to the acolyte.

The smile gracing Selena’s face was no longer small, nor demure. Instead, she beamed beautifully, and every drop of discarded sunshine Velpyre hardly deserved was shamed by the acolyte’s face alone. It hardly mattered that they’d known one another for a time so fleeting. It was the first time she’d seemed truly and genuinely happy. Selena clasped her hands gently behind her back, radiating soft delight.

“Thank you,” Selena breathed. “For everything.”

Octavia had no words to respond, nor could she offer a smile that would come anywhere near rivaling the acolyte’s own. She tried anyway with everything she had. Beneath the flooding candlelight of the Velrose Church as it streamed through the gaping hole, Selena was beautiful. So far below, she was an angel that deserved the world. Octavia cast her eyes high to the blossom, well in sight and more than accessible in the wake of screeching metal.

And where the blossom was free, her path was not.

She’d never seen guards above, for how her hesitant descent had been so simple. Josiah had even gone so far as to confirm the same. She recognized the attire, the harsh gazes, the peeking faces. Really, they spoke similarly to those who’d once told her she didn’t belong in the Blessed City. If she squinted, at their backs came trailing whites along the ground, much as she’d seen in passing within the walls of the church so high above.

It hardly mattered whether any man was holy or unholy in origin. The seeping disdain that splashed down the stairs and flooded the Cursed City was enough to drown Selena’s smile. It was enough to poison her eyes with terror. It was enough to leave her trembling.

If the Velpyre Acolyte was an angel awaiting flight, then the Velrose Acolyte cast her judgment from on high. Blossom-born or not, it was her gaze that was perhaps the most aflame of all.