Harmony

Where the pride of the blossom was still, so, too, was the victim of the flame.

Neither moved. Neither breathed. Calm eyes battled those far more hollow. Octavia, too, was powerless to find her breath.

Her steps were slow, practically echoing off the limestone where a bell had so recently echoed in their place. Stradivaria rose to her shoulder with trembling hands, following in the wake of a pounding heart. For at least one moment, she questioned why she was here at all. Valkyrie’s Call was deathly still, and the Velpyre Acolyte was much the same. Pure silence was all she could cling to, the blood rushing through her ears her only interruption.

She fell into place behind Sonata, unhesitant hands still taut around the tolling rope. The acolyte was quiet. The acolyte hardly emoted. The acolyte only tightened her grip and narrowed her eyes, not once peeling them from the unrestrained hatred before her.

“She hasn’t been here long,” Sonata spoke coolly. “She only came moments before your own arrival. I suppose Valkyrie’s song led her here one way or another.”

“What do we do?”

“What must be done.”

Octavia gulped. “And that is?”

Sonata paused for a moment. “Support me. I will handle this. Keep your distance behind me. I will tell you when to cover your ears. Do as I say, exactly when I say it. Do you understand?”

Taking orders from Sonata felt uncomfortable, in light of recent events. Octavia was terrified to object regardless. “Yes,” she answered softly.

“Good. Are you ready?”

Octavia never had the chance to answer. What words she’d sought to breathe were viciously overshadowed by a scream, nearly akin to a growl. Selena’s speed was equal parts horrifying and precise, centered upon the Velrose Acolyte alone. Every unhesitant step left wisps of grotesque violet trailing in her wake, a sickening afterimage that followed each tiny movement. It didn’t matter that she raged as she surged, her motions as erratic as they were clean. She was a streaming comet, a shooting star of agony cloaked in poison. At her lowest, as she cried out with unfathomable ire, she was still beautiful.

“Cover!” Sonata called, bracing against the floor of the tower.

Octavia did as instructed, shifting her grip on Stradivaria accordingly to allow her hands to move. She watched on as Sonata kicked hard against the limestone, erupting upwards in flight like the ascending angel Octavia remembered her to be. Her full body weight was captured by the tolling rope, and she descended with grace and divinity. The bell, by comparison, could not have offered less of the same.

Valkyrie’s song brought no warmth. Valkyrie’s song brought no comfort. Valkyrie’s song brought no peace, nor did it pulse through her heart and cleanse her soul from within. Octavia still felt it in her blood, undeniably, down to every last droplet. So, too, was every vibration impossible to ignore. The bong that crashed into her from within began at her ears and spiraled down into her core, remorselessly shaking every last aspect of her being. Her veins could’ve burst. Her heart could’ve exploded. The world began to turn on its side, and staying upright took all of her strength as she staggered. The cold sweat that accompanied the awful sound was instant, and the physical sensations were almost painful. She lost her breath and found nausea. Covering her ears was utterly useless.

And yet, she wasn’t the only one to suffer. At the very least, Octavia had remained on her feet. The same could not be said for Selena, blasted backwards as she was. The Velpyre Acolyte screeched in a manner far beyond human, and she tumbled several times over along the limestone floor of the bell tower. At least twice, she hit her head directly. The thick, clouded Dissonance that clung to her in droves wavered for the briefest moment, the shockwave just barely enough to disrupt the billowing fog.

One toll was enough to repel her. Yet more pinned her down, tethering her to the floor of the tower. No amount of struggling left Selena successful at returning to her feet. This was how Valkyrie’s Call went to war. It was every bit as horrifying as Octavia had attempted to imagine.

Four tolls were enough to satisfy Sonata, intentionally or otherwise. When the bell returned to a standstill, she returned to earth just the same. The echo was still more than disorienting, and Octavia’s rapidly-racing heart would surely never calm again. She didn’t dare imagine what this sounded like from below. In the midst of crisis, Octavia offered up a silent prayer of a blunted song besieging the streets. Dissonance or not, she didn’t want the others hearing--or feeling--this.

Sonata herself didn’t seem particularly immune to the bell’s ruthless song, if the prickling sweat upon her brow was any indicator. So, too, did her shoulders rise and fall laboriously. It was with far less effort that she’d witnessed the Velrose Acolyte bless the blossom with twelve tolls and a satisfied smile, with hardly a drop of fatigue to show for it. This was different. This wasn’t normal. In a way, Octavia almost couldn’t overlay the bell that had left her so delicately shaken with this one at all.

“Not enough,” Sonata spoke solemnly, her voice wavering somewhat as she battled for her breath.

Never did her eyes leave Selena. The Velpyre Acolyte had reclaimed her footing, shaky as it was. Once more was she draped in violet, dripping in hatred, and hauntingly gorgeous as she radiated raw ire. The bell’s wrath was momentary. From what little Octavia had learned of Selena, the girl was more resilient than that by nature alone.

“But it definitely got to her, somehow,” Octavia offered breathlessly.

“Not enough,” Sonata repeated, her eyes as sharp as her voice was calm. “Stall for me. Valkyrie’s Call cannot sing continuously.”

“Stall how?” Octavia asked.

Stealing several hesitant steps backwards from the Dissonant acolyte was as futile as it was reflexive. She could close the gap in seconds, clearly. Octavia couldn’t help it, and her eyes darted between the two acolytes anxiously.

When the tension broke, a gap was lost. It was not at all the one between Octavia and Selena, but rather that which lay between the two acolytes alone. Selena lunged, sprinting in full towards Sonata with only trailing violet to show for it. Octavia was fast. From what she was seeing, she truthfully wasn’t confident she could outrun Selena at all. She couldn’t fight the panic that settled in.

“Octavia,” Sonata spoke calmly, never once moving from the bell.

The acolyte’s voice was all that gave her strength, instinctive as it was. Stradivaria flew to her shoulder once more like a magnet, and she tore the bow across the strings sharply. The burn in her muscles was instant, the bubbling in her blood more so. The pulsing in her veins was far from that of the bell’s curse, beloved and powerful in a way she embraced. Her radiance was explosive, and every string was plagued with the same in the face of her luminous song. Her light was sharp, fierce in every way.

Each glow of gold burned white-hot, stretched taut and ready to strike with the softest sizzle as they laid in wait. Stretched as they were, she stole the sun’s rays and crafted brilliant arrows. They seared her eyes to look at, somewhat. She stared down Selena, holding her breath as she slashed at the strings relentlessly. Just as the Velpyre Acolyte could surge forth, so, too, could her light.

The recoil left her staggering, at least briefly. Her radiant beams were explosive in their own right, sailing forth sixfold towards Selena. Octavia’s aim was more accurate than she’d expected it to be, truthfully. Of the six, Selena managed to dodge four. She wasn’t immune to two, stinging her left thigh and lower torso accordingly. Clothing meant nothing, for how hot such striking brilliance burned. Selena shrieked, crumpling to the ground in pain. If Octavia strained from here, she could see the instant blistering, the rapid reddening. The acolyte’s thigh, in particular, fared poorly, mildly charred and sickeningly blackened by the unforgiving burn. It shimmered, somewhat. Something was oozing. She didn’t want to know what.

“Well done,” Sonata offered softly, once more bracing against the rope.

There was no satisfaction to be found beneath her praise. Octavia stared with horror, her hands trembling around either portion of Stradivaria. Selena was writhing even now, possibly whimpering as she clutched the wounds desperately. Octavia felt sick. She felt disgusting. She felt guilty, above all else. Where her light had speared agony itself, never had she speared a person. She wondered what it felt like. She hated that she wondered at all.

“Sonata,” she began, her voice trembling. “What…exactly is your plan here?”

“Do not have qualms about hurting her. She has chosen this path,” Sonata answered plainly, her eyes never once leaving the Velpyre Acolyte. “Hesitation will get both of us killed.”

“She didn’t choose this,” Octavia protested.

“Cover!”

The only response she earned was a warning, just barely softer than the first. It was her fault for not monitoring Selena more closely, already resistant to her scathing injuries and back on her feet. The acolyte still staggered as she lunged, far from unimpeded, and Octavia could most definitely see the discolored patches of skin so brutally wronged by her light. She was nearly too late in covering her ears, accidentally hitting herself in the face with the bow. She knew what was coming. She didn’t want to watch Valkyrie’s cry hurt Selena any further, and yet she hardly had a choice.

Sonata once more tolled the bell with every ounce of strength she carried, birthing the same unforgiving sound once more. Yet again was each aspect of Octavia’s existence set ablaze in the worst way, dissected and reassembled from the inside out in an instant. It was its own type of agony, and covering her ears was still just as useless.

Keeping calm was impossible, and her blood rushed through each vein far too quickly. If she moved the wrong way, they’d perhaps explode altogether. The sweat trickling down Sonata’s cheeks with every toll betrayed the hidden burden of her efforts. She was as fearsome as she was vulnerable. To withstand the sound and to produce it all at once were feats that left Octavia in awe of the Velrose Acolyte’s power.

And once more, Selena was sent hurtling in reverse. The sonic burst rippling outwards from the bell left her screeching in the same unholy manner, tumbling again and again as she crashed to the limestone even harder. She most definitely hit her head this time as well, fiercely enough that Octavia could actually make out the thud in between tolls.

Whatever the Velpyre Acolyte felt was surely far worse than her own experience. Selena was shifting between clawing at her scalp and scratching at the floor of the tower until her nails cracked and bled, screaming all the while. The Dissonance plaguing her on every side left a miserable indigo star flickering in the wind, a flame blighted by a ruthless oppressor. Valkyrie’s Call battled to snuff out the Dissonance. Selena was Dissonant. Octavia imagined it was not a pleasant sensation.

“What are we going to do?” Octavia cried over the last vestiges of Valkyrie’s song.

Sonata was left to catch her breath after four more tolls. Their eyes in tandem tracked Selena, rising to her feet yet again in the wake of the repulsive noise. Even without the bell, Octavia was convinced her blood was still sloshing inside to a degree it shouldn’t be.

“There is a fatal flaw to those blessed with the strength of sound,” Sonata began, her composure just barely compromised by brief fatigue. “Such healing in the face of agony is beyond our reach. We would rend the Dissonant person asunder should we attempt from within.”

It was a mental image more nauseating than even the sound of the bell. “You can’t expel the Dissonance from her?”

“She has fallen so low. While I can cleanse large swaths of the Dissonance, it is my bane that I could not ever expel it in full. I can, however, grant her peace in death.”

“You can’t!” Octavia cried, clutching Stradivaria tightly against her chest. “What about me? What if I purify her?”

Only now did Sonata at last deem Octavia worthy of her gaze, fixing the Maestra with an expression of disdain. Octavia hated it.

“You would try? On one such as this?”

Octavia loathed the idea of failure. She loathed simply the imagery of failure. She loathed the consequences of failure, if the words of Madrigal and Viola were anything to go by. She’d been assured of Stradivaria’s aid in the moment, once, and still the sentiment rang hollow. Her heart pounded viciously, and she feared her blood would stain the floor of the bell tower the moment it exploded in full.

Still, her eyes fell to Selena’s face once more. The acolyte was pitiful. The acolyte was pained, her hateful eyes swimming in agony and veiled in violet. The acolyte was precious, every scream born of malice and hurt. She was still beautiful, dripping in Dissonance and wrapped up in the worst of smoky suffering. She was still worth it. If the alternative was death, then it was no alternative at all.

Octavia didn’t have a choice. She’d promised Josiah. For that, she couldn’t falter.

“Cover!”

There was only wrath where Selena’s soft gaze should’ve been, only cries of rage where Selena’s smile should’ve been. Sonata didn’t hesitate the moment the Velpyre Acolyte surged forth yet again. It was the second time Octavia was nearly too late in covering her ears. The feeling of the bell’s own cries penetrating deep past her skin was still despicable, and yet she was unfortunately growing to tolerate it. It was no less agonizing. Still, she could stay upright and on her feet. No longer did the world toss and turn, and no longer did she have to battle so harshly to maintain her balance.

The same could be said for Selena, then. She was not repelled by Valkyrie’s cry, instead maintaining her own balance. Her bare feet skidded sharply in reverse, granted, grinding harshly against the rugged limestone below in a way that surely hurt. It was one more place sure to bleed, given that the acolyte was already beginning to drip with red in quite a few more. Where trickling violet did not claim her skin, splashing scarlet did, speckling her once-pure robes. The Dissonance that called her home was undaunted, wavering yet less as it clung so closely to its Dissonant Maestra. Her breaths were labored, that much was clear. It didn’t stem her strength.

It only took three tolls, this time, to leave Sonata gasping for oxygen. Even with red staining her cheeks in another way entirely, she still harbored grace. “Do you understand what will happen if you fail?”

Octavia nodded. She didn’t dare entertain the mental image. “Yes.”

“Do you understand what will happen to Velrose if you fail?”

She didn't. She didn’t know Selena’s objectives. She didn’t know if Selena was lucid enough to have objectives at all, an agonizing fire fueled only by hatred. Were she to descend the bell tower plagued with the same, the consequences trailed down a mental path Octavia hesitated to chase. Selena was one big, endless, walking bad memory. On the steps above Velpyre, at Josiah’s side, Octavia had been spared of Selena’s wrath. Here, it was Sonata alone who incurred the acolyte’s ire. So, too, could it be Velrose that incurred the same.

And again, her eyes flickered to the Velpyre Acolyte. Again, she found the same pain, radiating where murky violet could not conceal it. Even from afar, it was immense. It was insufferable. She’d promised Josiah. She’d promised Josiah. She’d promised Josiah.

“Yes,” Octavia finally answered, her hands trembling alongside her voice. “I understand.”

“Cover!”

The lack of permission, understanding, or even faith was deeply unsatisfying. This time, Octavia genuinely was too late to cover. Selena was getting faster, her recovery time much the same. The auditory assaults of Valkyrie’s Call were slowly lost on her, although still somewhat biting in their own right. Even without covering her ears, Octavia still endured the curse of the bell’s song either way. The sensation was still awful. The pain was still just as severe. Her tolerance was still growing with every toll, and yet it made nothing easier. Covering her ears had been a placebo, perhaps. Even with her hands freed, she couldn’t spare the concentration to play. Either portion of Stradivaria lay strangled ruthlessly in her white-knuckled iron grip as she watched the acolytes with wide eyes.

Once more did Selena stand her ground. Her scalp was bleeding, streaming scarlet caking her frazzled hair as each laceration oozed steadily. Every crash of an enraged comet to the cold limestone below had left her bloodied and bruised, to say nothing of the burns still peeled and charred somewhat lower. The floor of the tower was not kind to her, for how stray stone had crawled its way into her wounds and ground itself into her reddened nailbeds. She gasped for air, gritted teeth betraying her composure and humanity in equal measure. This needed to end, and it needed to end now, lest Octavia be forced to watch a raging girl be steadily beaten to death.

If Sonata cared, it hardly showed on her face. It hardly showed in her actions as she labored and tolled thrice over, panting in her own right as she descended to earth yet again. They were two angels, burning themselves out atop a place so close to Heaven. She wanted to spare both. She couldn’t fathom why the Velrose Acolyte spoke so calmly of her counterpart’s end.

“Don’t you want to help her? She’s an acolyte, just like you!” Octavia cried.

“Do not compare us,” Sonata snapped. “Those above are not the same as those below. The blossom thrives while the flame burns, that much is true.”

Her voice was bitter in a way so wildly out of step with her graceful demeanor. In that moment, she was hardly the Velrose Acolyte Octavia knew. She’d seen it in Velpyre, briefly. She’d dismissed it as a fluke. To see it again was deeply unsettling. “Sonata, she doesn’t--”

“There is no worth to a flame that does not warm,” she insisted harshly. “We are born with responsibilities which must be upheld. Those who cannot perform such are nothing at all!”

“That’s not true!” Octavia cried.

“Cover!”

This time, it was Sonata who was nearly too late in tolling the bell. Selena advanced once more, undeterred and fierce as every bloodied step left her with arms outstretched and billowing violet as her aftermath. She was a storm of agony, striking at the Velrose Acolyte as Sonata rushed to clasp the rope. Still, she pulled with everything she had, rewarded with Valkyrie’s cry in place of pouring sweat and stolen air. She was shaking, somewhat, the strain upon her muscles more than visible. Ears uncovered, Octavia was powerless to do more than watch her struggle, for how little her light could peacefully offer. Two tolls were all the acolyte could manage.

The moment she fell to earth, she almost did so literally. Her hands battled to uncurl from the rope, and she winced sharply as her fingers twitched. Rubbed raw, viciously peeling, and blindingly red, Sonata’s palms oozed and shimmered beneath the consequences of her repeated tolling.

“I.”

It was one syllable, singular and sudden. It was deep, inhuman, distorted in every way. It was familiar all the same, for what cadence and tone painted it.

Their eyes followed together. Selena was on her feet. Selena was steady in the face of Valkyrie’s relentless assault. Whether Selena was growing stronger or Sonata was growing weaker, Octavia was unsure. Both were plausible. Perhaps both were true.

The Velpyre Acolyte raised her head. The agony buried in her eyes didn’t quite smother the fire. It didn’t quite quench the flame. It didn’t keep her from burning the bell tower to the ground with the white-hot blaze of her rage alone.

“I,” Selena spoke, “am not worthless!”

Where she was once a comet, she was now a nova. She swelled and burst, scattering violet like stardust from beyond. In her wake, at her back, the poisonous smoke rose and writhed in utter excess. Octavia could’ve sworn it was opaque. She could’ve sworn it was lethal, more so than ever. It was to say nothing of her shoulders, violently blighted by much of the billowing same.

Upwards and aloft as the sickening violet rose, parallel and fanning, they were the closest to true angel wings the fallen acolyte would ever come. It was unreasonable, uncontrollable, unbelievable. Blackened agony bubbled beyond her eyelids and streaked down her cheeks. If they were tears, they hardly looked the part. She was far from sorrowful. If Octavia could envision rage, this was it. If Octavia could envision hatred incarnate, this was it.

And when all the ire in the universe came crashing down to earth from on high, it was the Velrose Acolyte who endured that judgment.

Selena was a fallen angel, and yet there was absolutely nothing angelic about her merciless flight towards Sonata. If she had been aggressive before, then her speed now was unfathomable. Her condition was irrelevant, and Octavia sincerely believed she was a star set to burn herself out via spite alone. Sonata’s wide eyes, flooding with horror, were her only call to action. It was her turn to brace.

She refused to hit the acolyte, aggressor or otherwise. Still, Stradivaria collided with her shoulder regardless. Once more did her radiance explode, her skin sear, the very stars ignite and pulse in her veins. Her rays of brilliance burst forth, sharp and yet again spearing as her desperate melody left them burning bright. Every swift strike of the bow against the strings left them cocked like the arrows she slowly shaped them to be.

The slashes that followed, frantic or otherwise, sent them raining upon the floor of the tower alone. It was a miracle that she threaded the needle well, missing the acolytes in full as her scorching light crashed down between the two. Every golden ray shined fiercely, far beyond her control. Sonata winced behind the sudden luminosity, and Selena recoiled violently.

Octavia didn’t want Selena’s attention by any means. Sonata couldn’t afford to earn any more of the same. Every time the girl flexed her fingers with much the same grimace, the residual light left them shimmering disgustingly. Octavia didn’t have a choice. There was nothing more Valkyrie’s Call could do, nor its Maestra.

“I am not worthless!” Selena cried out, time and time again. “I am not worthless! I am not worthless! I am not worthless!”

Still, the Velrose Acolyte stood strong. Her wounded hands and raw skin found the rope yet again, grasping tightly as she cried out in pain. “I’ll keep her stunned! You do whatever must be done!”

Do whatever you need to do.

Octavia knew what she needed to do. Actually doing it was an entirely different matter.

She’d promised Josiah.

She had no time to prepare, as much as she wished desperately for the opposite. Selena leapt at Sonata directly, perhaps with the intent to do far more than simply injure. Even now, the same four words tumbled from her enraged lips again and again, absolutely dripping with raw and unimaginable hatred each time.

Sonata’s hands were openly bleeding, her skin snagging upon the rope with every pull. Where Valkyrie cried, so too did the Velrose Acolyte, her audible pain filling the open air. She stopped just short of a scream every time, sickening scarlet trickling in the slightest down the rugged material. It hardly meant anything to begin with, for how Selena only slightly slowed in her tracks. She staggered. She stumbled. Never once, in any capacity, did she stop her furious pursuit.

And in the face of an unfaltering flame, Octavia traded the painful cry of the bell for the touch of a violin.

She’d never done this before. She’d once prayed she’d never have to do this at all. Her one lesson had been of a different flavor entirely, lightless and skilled. She had no choice. She had nothing left. She braced, she gasped for air, she trembled, and she struggled to still Stradivaria upon her shoulders. She could hardly see straight. For a moment, she squeezed her eyes shut.

She’d promised Josiah.

She’d promised Josiah.

She’d promised Josiah.

“Stradivaria,” she murmured beneath Valkyrie's song, “please guide me. Please.”

“Octavia!” Sonata cried.

It was fearful. It was the first time she’d ever heard such terror in the acolyte’s voice, her composure cracked and exchanged for genuine horror. Two tolls had been too much. Her body was faltering. Her hands were shaking fiercely, as was every last muscle around the rope. She was gasping rapidly, her own eyes wide and drenched in utter panic. Ever more, she stained the rope with her efforts, blossoming red against gold once so precious. Sonata was wilting. Selena was burning. The flame was surging. The flame was screaming.

Octavia let her blood burn. She let her skin ignite. She let her heart stop beating and surge with starlight instead. She let every last ounce of the sun burst into flames in her veins, radiance that ravaged her inside and out leaving her song desperate and her teeth gritted. It didn’t hurt. She’d already stretched it once, stolen beams of sunlight crashing onto the strings with blinding brilliance that threatened her pupils. It pulsed, it sizzled, and it swelled the more she slashed and struck. Maybe she was being guided. Maybe she wasn’t. She believed either one, for how her fingers moved so quickly and her pleading melody exploded so fervently.

In any other circumstance, the single radiant arrow she’d birthed might’ve been resplendent and admirable. Right now, it was all she had. Right now, it was all she could do to tear the bow across the strings, send her fingers flying, and unleash her independent light upon the Velpyre Acolyte. She was terrified. She'd promised Josiah.

Octavia was taking cues almost exclusively from Madrigal. For how often the same screams of asserted worth were spilling from Selena’s lips, it took only careful aim to launch her beaming salvation down the acolyte’s throat. It was blindingly luminous, so much so that Octavia could visibly track the glow outside Selena’s chest as she pushed ever further. In stark contrast to the haze of deadly violet still enveloping the Dissonant girl, it was a beacon. Selena had come to a complete standstill, clutching at her chest tightly and futilely. With her best attempts to scream confiscated, it was all she could do to scratch desperately at her heart. It left only the streaking blood of her nailbeds staining her robes where yet more had not already splashed.

Sonata had nothing left. This was all they had left. The alternative was death, and Octavia refused to surrender her promise. She fought for speed as much as she did precision, still offering silent pleas for Stradivaria’s guidance. Her thoughts were split in every direction, a number of which retraced Madrigal’s explanation time and time again. She hunted for resistance, her swirling radiance meeting with little as she played. To panic was to falter. She refused to entertain the idea that she was doing this incorrectly. With every hurried note, she searched, and searched, and searched.

When she felt a tug, her heart could’ve stopped. Granted, it was already fairly close to doing so regardless. Still, the taut sensation she felt seize her fragile ray of radiance was almost unmistakable. She couldn’t imagine what else it could be, particularly given the way Selena writhed so desperately. Her entire body was heaving, the violet clinging to her surging and swirling without aim. Where Valkyrie’s Call had left her flickering like a blighted flame, she now did the same. Octavia doubled down, gripping the bow tighter as she battled her frantic breaths.

Every push against the strings was stronger, every harsh note ever brighter. Her song was vibrant, sonorant, resonating. Her extended brilliance felt tight and taut, if the resistance that came with her fingers along searing copper meant anything. She, too, was taut, tensing violently. For how hard Madrigal had labored, skilled as she was, Octavia assumed it was to be expected. In no way did it ease her distress. She threw every ounce of faith she had into Stradivaria’s song. She offered every possible prayer she could to whatever god would listen. She’d promised. She’d promised. She’d promised. She’d promised. She’d promised.

The mass she claimed, indescribable as it was, refused to budge. It didn’t bend, her labor be damned. Selena was outright growling, scraping at her arms with such fervor that she drew new blood entirely from innocent skin. There was no escaping luminescence lodged so deep, and yet it left Octavia with so little to show for it. Octavia held on with everything she had, pressing so harshly against every string that she knew with certainty she’d earn calluses.

Valkyrie’s song was absent. It was hers alone that offered anything. She herself was crying out. She pushed. She felt the slightest of yield, the tiniest of slack upon the edges. She felt something giving way. She felt her beautiful, radiant ray, besieging the acolyte as it was, fighting so desperately. She felt it succeeding.

It broke.

It snapped.

And so, too, did the world shatter to pieces.

The sharp slack she found was unwelcome. The fizzling light she found was horrifying. Where she’d slashed so pleadingly with a humble bow, it may as well have been the knife of a god who hated her that severed her brilliant salvation. She staggered beneath the sudden recoil, eyeing Selena with utter terror. It didn’t sink in immediately. She spent at least three seconds in denial. It was the only three seconds she got.

All that came next did so instantly, and she could do little more than watch.

Sonata screamed. It was the first time Octavia had ever heard that particular sound of horror from the Velrose Acolyte, composed and graceful as she was. Selena was slow. She wasn’t immobile, cursed by radiance within moments ago or otherwise. Even now, her eyes were upon Sonata alone. She lunged. Once, and only once, did Sonata abandon the bell. It was the last time she stood by her partner’s side.

The Velrose Acolyte sprinted well to the railing at her back, stealing whatever gap was possible to steal. It didn’t matter, and surely wouldn’t. Tears streamed in excess down her reddened cheeks, as did blood and flaking tissue down onto her disheveled robes. Once so wonderfully pristine, they now spoke to nothing such. She gasped for air wordlessly, trading panicked pleas for wails of despair.

Selena seized upon the useless gap, still screaming a different scream entirely. Where Sonata’s desperate back found only metal, flattened and pinned, Selena’s bloodied nails found shining skin not her own. Her grip was relentless and iron as it closed around the acolyte’s neck, her nails sinking deeply beneath its surface where possible. Sonata choked just as much as she shrieked, bubbling scarlet erupting from somewhere new entirely. No amount of shoving and flailing spared her. She was frail. She was drained. She was lucky if she could raise her arms at all, pushing futilely against the Velpyre Acolyte’s chest.

The Dissonance was not kind to her. It, too, was suffocating. On that, she choked, and Octavia watched as it drew dangerously close to her every orifice in less time than it took her to blink. Sonata squeezed her eyes shut, yet more swimming tears splashing against her robes in the process.

And in the moment she cracked her eyes open, half-lidded and lightless as they were, she threw her arms around Selena’s torso. Nails lodged in her throat be damned, hands blocking her airway be damned, Dissonance stealing her breath be damned, she never let go. She slid one foot forward. She leveled her shoulder blades with the railing behind her. Her angle was perfect. It was a position Octavia had seen her adopt so many times before, accompanied by a song she’d never forget again in her life. For one last time, she pushed. She launched. She flew.

In silence, it was two angels, born of above and below, that disappeared over the railing of the bell tower.

Valkyrie’s Call was still. There were no morning tolls. If Octavia strained, she could hear the panicked screams of the citizens below, distant as they were. There was blood on the tolling rope, if she looked. There were splotches of the same along the limestone, if she cared to inspect. Octavia didn’t move. Where her veins had been pumped full of starlight moments ago, she was left with only lead to weigh her down.

Sunrise was here. It was beautiful, clouded skies splashed with every shade of pink and orange as they parted. She drank it in for a moment, her vision blurring. Valkyrie’s Call shimmered splendidly beneath the faintest rays of dawn, sparkling bronze stealing the softest sunlight from on high.

She didn’t want to look.

She stood in place for several more minutes. She wondered if the people of Velrose would be lonely without their morning tolls.

She didn’t want to look.

Or any tolls at all, really.

She didn’t want to look.

It was still ringing, anyway. It was a souvenir she could take home with her, once everything was over. She could keep the sound. She could put it on a shelf and admire it. She could replay it in her head again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again.

She would probably have to look eventually.

Was she still supposed to be covering? Sonata was going to get angry if she stopped trying.

She took the slowest possible steps towards the railing, one by one. They echoed.

Her eyes flickered to Valkyrie’s Call as she passed it by. It really was incredible, the way a Harmonial Instrument could scream so loudly without a Maestra. She learned more about this world every day.

Octavia leaned against the railing, her eyes firmly forward on the horizon beyond. She wasn’t sure at what point she managed to let her gaze crash to the ground. She matched with the acolytes. It was the closest camaraderie they were ever going to get. Now, she didn’t have to feel left out in the midst of the blossom and the flame.

The world was so small from above, just as it had been the first time Sonata had graciously led her to the top of the bell tower. It was an incredible sight. The houses were tiny. The people were tiny. The acolytes were tiny. She made them out by their robes, white draped upon colorful lilac. Granted, they were clean, once. It was hard to actually see the colors from here. The sprawling, infinite red was not doing either of them any favors. It made for a lovely halo, if nothing else.

Sonata was sleeping, atop as she was. Octavia didn’t blame her, given the degree to which she’d exerted herself so fiercely beside Valkyrie’s Call. She deserved her rest. Cobblestone didn’t make for too soft a bed, and she lamented that on the acolyte’s behalf. She had Selena’s body beneath her, at least. Hopefully, that was soft enough. Did her hands still hurt? It wasn’t the only place that bled. Octavia had never quite considered how much blood one person could harbor. It was a solid lesson, and Selena illustrated that point with far more aplomb.

She pitied the Velpyre Acolyte, for how she had no soft surface upon which to rest. Octavia liked to imagine Sonata was warm. She liked to imagine that made up for every unnaturally-twisted limb, crumpled and crushed. She liked to imagine that made up for the portions of her skull that had fared more than poorly upon collision with the ground. She liked to imagine the colors that weren’t red were a trick of the light.

She knew what the violet was, wisps playing in the pooling scarlet and slinking along the stones. Octavia couldn’t tell what the pink colors were. It was one part of her curiosity, although most of it came in the form of meeting Selena’s eyes from here. There was no way to tell if they were still open. Maybe she should wave. Maybe the acolyte would wave back. Could she move that arm in the first place? It probably wasn’t supposed to look like that.

They weren’t dead. That was impossible. After all, they were just here. Sonata was still playing. Valkyrie’s Call was so, so loud. Was it possible for the bell to be quieter? Maybe Octavia could ask nicely. Her blood still hurt. She looked at them again. They were still asleep. They were still captured in an expanse of scarlet, one twisted clump of viscera that stung her eyes again and again. Did it hurt? Did it hurt? Did it hurt? Did it hurt?

She’d go ask. Every motion towards the steps left her floating. There were a lot of stairs, and she didn’t look forward to it. She wondered how fast the descent would’ve been if she simply jumped.

She was numb. She was lonely. She took every step slowly and calmly. Madrigal’s absence in front of the stairwell door was only slightly puzzling. To be fair, they needed all the help outside they could get. There was an acolyte to help with that, at some point. She’d surely be back soon.

The screams in the streets hadn’t halted. In reality, they’d grown louder. There was more Dissonance, possibly. It was unlikely, really, given the way the bell was still ringing forever. Still, Octavia supposed Selena had carried more than enough bad memories to curse the Blessed City in earnest. It wasn’t as though what she’d managed to expel would’ve been enough. The Velpyre Acolyte got what she wanted in the end, maybe.

She could always go ask if that was the case. Every time Octavia blinked, she could see Selena’s body. Maybe she was dead. It was debatable. Had she stopped breathing? Did it hurt when she hit the ground? What did she think on the way there? Did she think anything at all?

People were still sprinting around her, hands still either full of loved ones or belongings. They were nearer to the Dissonance this time around, their screams yet closer. She doubted they could see the murky fog, sweeping along the ground as it was. She could. To know it was there and yet not perceive it was a horror she didn’t wish on anyone. She cast her eyes left, right, forwards, and backwards, and found not a single familiar Maestro.

She knew where she could find two of them. She knew where they were supposed to be, rather than where they were. One was still playing. Everything would be fine. So, too, was Octavia’s only logical course of action to battle against the agony plaguing the blossom--alongside a different blossom, maybe. She was still getting them mixed up, double-sided as the term had become. To fight back was her responsibility as a Maestra, ultimately.

She sounded like Sonata. How ironic. Did she scream on the way to the world below?

Still, Stradivaria never made it to her shoulder. She never even had the chance to make the motion, and something encircled her wrist tightly. She was yanked forwards with such force that it nearly hurt, stumbling in an indiscernible direction. It took more than a moment to recognize warmth, particularly relative to the touches of those she knew. It was unfamiliar.

“Octavia, are you alright? Come, we must hurry!”

Her eyes widened, chasing his back alone as he ran. She relaxed in his grip, her voice hoarse. “Drey?”

“Where are your friends?” he continued breathlessly. “Have you lost them?”

“They’ll be fine!” she called, angling Stradivaria’s bow so as not to stab his arm. “What are you still doing here?”

He turned to face her, eyes loaded with worry. “I was here to find you, of course. We must flee while we have the chance.”

Despite his firm grip, he was surprisingly gentle. His pace was equally so, although she could’ve run faster if she chose--fatigue be damned. “Where’s Samuel? And Cadence?”

He shook his head, never slowing his pace as he led her through the city streets. She’d never traversed the eastern flank of the church before, nor had she circled it in full. She didn’t resist his unfamiliar navigation. “I am unsure. I can only hope they have found their way out, as well. We were meeting with our client when we heard the news, but I know not the details. Have you any idea what’s happening?”

It had taken her far too long to notice his other hand, more than occupied in its own right. It was a beautiful weapon, for what little of them she was familiar with. True to his word, he’d found something of merit in Velrose--tools of violence or otherwise. The polearm was as ornate as it was functional, by appearance alone. The blade glistened beneath the cracking light of dawn, and the inlays were sprawling. It was, by no means, short. How he could run with both her and the weapon in hand simultaneously was baffling.

“I’m not sure,” she lied through her teeth, shaking off her distraction as she chose her words carefully. “I heard something about a big disaster happening. Something’s in the air. We need to evacuate out of the city.”

“That we do. I have been informed of a secondary exit from the city, beyond the walls ahead. You must watch your step!”

“Watch my…step?”

It took her a moment, for how the way by which they burst past the arches left her crossing into a sudden threshold of greenery once more. She really did almost trip, and his continuous tugging didn’t help. The back exit was somewhat smaller, if not every bit as ornate. It was isolated, and not another soul trailed outwards behind them. She shuddered to imagine the crowds and subsequent panic that surely hastened to the front gates. The sea of grass that crashed into her gaze and boots in tandem was familiar, swaying relentlessly beneath every gust of wind. It halted, eventually. There was gravel, rocks, and a second sea entirely. She skidded to a halt so quickly that sod was left disrupted in her wake.

She’d forgotten it was an ocean city. She’d forgotten about the ocean altogether. In a way, her first view of the sea was beautiful, seafoam crashing against jagged rocks so far below in burst after burst of salty spray. In any other scenario, it would’ve been a sight to savor. She could’ve sat and watched it for hours. She didn’t enjoy that the experience was probably tainted for life, given the circumstances. As it stood, the drop was dizzying. The cliff was absolutely tremendous, and the plummet was undeniably vertical. It rivaled the bell tower, if it didn’t outdo it altogether. She wondered how things were going back there. It was amazing that she could hear Valkyrie’s Call from here.

Drey set her hand free, grimacing. “Damn. My client had stated that this exit was often unused, but he neglected to mention the vast ocean at our feet!”

“Can we go around the walls of the city instead? You know, circle it from the back?” Octavia offered.

He nodded. “A fine idea, if you yet possess the energy to do so. Shall we be off?”

Octavia returned his nod. “I can take it.”

Drey smiled. “Truly a brave girl. We shall make it through as one.”

Even in her current emotional state, still privy to the ghosts of the bell’s roaring cries in her eardrums, his smile was irresistible. His presence was somewhat comforting.

“How did you know where to find me?”

He shook his head. “I did not. I have searched far and wide across the city.”

With the peaceful rush of the ocean at her back and the gentle sunrise blooming high above, the dichotomy between the exterior and interior of Velrose was unthinkable. Octavia was dreaming, maybe. “Why didn’t you save yourself? You were in danger.”

His face softened. “You are a treasured friend. You must live another day, cherishing a peaceful life in this wonderful world. Besides, I continue to owe you a favor for your assistance at the auction, remember?”

It was laughable. If only he knew how tumultuous her life truly was.

She wanted to thank him, and she made it as far as opening her mouth. She lost out to the violet, for what opportunity of gratitude it stole from her.

It made enough sense, given that the blossom--the city, at least--was more or less overflowing with agony. The Dissonance was raw and excessive, murky clouds swirling slowly at the foot of the gate. They’d hardly gone far, for the sea that greeted them below so quickly. She expected the screeching, somewhat, vividly disorienting and consistently nauseating. With one hand still tightly clamped around the weapon, Drey winced as his other palm rose to his ear.

“What is that horrible noise?” he cried above the shrill sound.

Octavia had no time to offer up an excuse. He turned in full, facing the gate head-on as agony incarnate rose ever higher. It was practically a wall, opaque and sickening in every way. The haze was all-encompassing, sneaking and spreading to such a degree that circling the walls was no longer an option. It continued to scream, just as the same smoky violet continued to writhe and billow. She hated it. Her heart raced. With the restless ocean so far below at their backs, they were out of options. Even outside of the Blessed City, they weren’t free from agony.

“What…what is this?”

Octavia adjusted her grip around either portion of Stradivaria. “What’s…what, exactly?”

“This fog, do you not see it? The smoke that rises high?” Drey asked breathlessly.

Octavia’s eyes widened. “You can…see it?”

Drey took several steps forward, wedged firmly between Octavia and the approaching Dissonance. “How could one not? This…foul mist, is it screaming?”

He was correct, of course. The violet smog rolled ever closer, and widening the gap was instinctive. When Drey claimed one step backwards instead, Octavia did the same. The gravel she continued to catch underfoot made her feel ill, and every look over her shoulder left her panicking. The drop-off wasn’t that far away.

“Drey!” she cried, more than distressed by the tiny gap between her soles and the cliff’s edge.

“I know, my apologies!” he offered quickly, his tone strained. “I will think of something. We must not make contact with it. It could be hazardous!”

Again, he was technically right. Octavia was grateful he had the common sense not to touch it. Still, it didn’t help with a plan of action. Her life was at risk, as was his.

There was one solution. She wondered what Viola would have to say about it, somewhat. Even now, the idea alone left her heart pounding. He was more important than a secret, his life worth more than an explanation. If it was for his sake, she couldn’t hesitate. She wouldn’t hesitate.

“Drey, step aside. Please.”

“I will not,” he spoke resolutely. “I will protect you as need be. Stay behind me.”

The Dissonance was closing in, what peeking grass she could still see swallowed beneath broiling smog on every side. Octavia’s eardrums were aching from the ever-increasing volume of the screeching she loathed. The world was spinning, slightly. She felt sick to her stomach, although she questioned whether that was due to the Dissonance alone. Still, if she was suffering, there was no way Drey wasn’t privy to the same pain. They were out of time.

“Drey, please!” she begged.

Drey didn’t answer her with words, initially. She got to see the polearm in action, almost. His skill and dexterity were impressive, for how quickly he found his stance and how effortlessly he claimed his grip. He leveled the shimmering tip of the honed blade with the screaming smoke, narrowing his eyes. “Octavia, I wish for you to lead a life of peace and happiness. I will protect that life with my own, and strike down those who would take that away!”

“But why me?” she asked again.

He glared down the Dissonance alone, never once turning to face her. “As I’ve said, you are a precious friend. Please, let me do this for you!”

The Dissonance was practically close enough to touch him. With one wispy, unfortunately-placed tendril of bubbling smoke, it tried. Octavia didn’t give him time to lunge.

“I’m sorry, Drey!”

Octavia!

It was frantic in her head once more. It was loud. She didn’t have time for it right now.

Stradivaria crashing onto her shoulder was instinctive, as was the bow coming down hard against the strings in turn. Starlight scattered in her veins, the sun was born of her song, and the same radiance she’d grown to expect was once more sharp and taut. She spilled it with everything she had, her luminous melody undaunted in the face of another as she offered up all she had. With her fingers pulsing and her blood igniting, she had her rays once more. They were stolen from the sunrise, long before the sky could claim them in full.

Level with the strings, it took only simple slashes of the bow and a cry she couldn’t contain to send them barreling high into the innocent air. The arch she offered up brought with it radiant rain, bursting beautifully as it struck upon every cloud of violet. Deep into the Dissonance it spiraled and speared, every ruthless sizzle compromised only by that which screamed ever louder. It took effort not to hit Drey, her aim as careful as it was true. It paid off.

She did it again and again, striking beams born of her brilliant song boiling beneath her touch and bursting forth without mercy. Her volleys were accurate, her radiance powerful. Her light was piercing, and every writhing cloud that met with her luminous wrath was left to fizzle and shriek. She didn’t dare stop, exhausted or otherwise. For the quantity she created, she was a solar flare all her own, exploding time after time against the surging violet. It receded. It was working. The recoil was an issue in its own right, every incandescent shot leaving her staggering more than was tolerable. With Drey’s life on the line, she hardly had a choice. She’d already failed twice over today.

“Octavia?” Drey murmured softly, his eyes wide and his voice muffled beneath the chorus of screeching.

Where he ignored, it advanced. The Dissonance would’ve clashed with his neck, perhaps, had Octavia been the slightest bit slower. She nearly was, and she nearly missed it just the same.

“Don’t move!” she cried.

She couldn’t quite control the size of the burst that followed, panicked as it was. The brilliance that erupted forth from the strings barely sufficed, blasting forth above his right shoulder. It hit its mark flawlessly, and the boiling smoke splintered in an instant. The shrieking was not to be ignored, and yet the wisps her merciless light claimed in place of fog were far preferable by comparison.

It was just enough recoil.

She slipped on the gravel kissing her soles, tumbling backwards with zero resistance at her back. Octavia screamed, gripping the violin tightly as she squeezed her eyes shut.

“Octavia!” she heard Drey shout.

Something clenched around her wrist. She lurched forward, her body colliding violently with the cliffside as she cried out in pain. It was all she could do to hold fast to Stradivaria, dangling precariously in Drey's grip. She opened her eyes, greeting his fearful gaze with one of her own.

“Are you alright?” he called, staring down beyond the rim.

“I’m fine! Is the smoke still there?” she called back, straining her eyes behind him.

“It is gone, but why would you not heed my words?” he cried. “Why will you not allow me to defend you?”

The ocean was roaring dangerously in her ears. This was not the time nor the place for this discussion. “You don’t understand! Your life was in danger!”

“Are you so quick to throw away your life for others?” he growled.

His anger was new. It was startling, and she flinched.

“You just offered the same!” Octavia protested.

“That is a different matter! You are but a child. What happens to me must happen! That is how all things should be!”

He sounded almost fine with death. It was unsettling. “Drey, please just pull me up! We can talk later!”

“I shall, but I must take your hand! Drop the violin! It is replaceable where your life is not!”

She shook her head, her braids snagging painfully against the jagged rocks of the cliffside. “I can’t! It’s precious to me!”

He frowned, his expression otherwise worried. “The bow, then! Release it!”

Again, she shook her head. He growled in frustration.

“Your life is in danger, and yet you fear for a violin? Give it here, and I will pull you up!” he offered instead, extending one hand towards Stradivaria.

“I can’t!” she cried.

He fell silent for a moment, watching her dangle with hurt in his eyes. “Octavia, please! How else will I save you?”

If her view of his free hand was valid, he’d dropped the polearm at some point. “You can pull me up by my wrists, it’s okay! I know you’re strong enough!”

Again, silence fell before he spoke. This time, his voice was equally as hurt. “What is that violin to you that you would rather give your life than relinquish it? What is your life that you would throw it away so easily when others have pledged to protect yours?”

“Drey, please just pull me up,” she pleaded. “I can’t let go of it, I’m begging you. Please.”

He was quiet for a moment. She watched the heavy rise and fall of his shoulders as he met her gaze wordlessly. She feared moving of her own accord, lest she compromise what grip he already had around her wrist. It was all she could do to beg with her eyes.

“Octavia,” he finally spoke, softly and slowly. “If I aid you now, will you continue to fight as you have done? Will you truly risk your life to change this world?”

She exhaled, her breath rattling on the way out. The danger didn’t matter, and it was reflexive. Her words were tinted with pride, true as they were. She couldn’t help it.

“I will. I always will,” she spoke confidently.

The silence that settled between them was eternal. Only the crashing waves beneath her dangling feet filled the gap, and Drey’s eyes never once left her own. His shimmered, glistening under the softest light of morning. He withheld his tears, and yet his pain was clear. It stung.

“Drey?” she murmured.

“Then you are no better than your sister.”

The strong, sturdy warmth around her wrist faded in an instant. Eyes wide, Octavia plummeted, and her world went black.