Harmony

◆ ◆ ◆

There was no warmth to be found in the girl’s origins.

It didn’t surprise Octavia in the slightest that she’d been correct. Hallmarked by the same impaired eyesight and subsequent necessity of glasses, her stranger’s eyes were rimmed by peripheral rectangles--the first time something more had clung to the vision she shared. Her stranger was no stranger at all, even sans the corrective lenses. This toll saw fit to grace her with the gift of mirrors on multiple occasions, even in childhood. For that, she praised her luck at the worst of times.

Cadence’s hair, it seemed, had always been equally short and equally bobbed all the same. For who she was, the style she’d donned as a young girl was colorful enough to shock Octavia. Gone was the dull grays of the girls’ academy that the Ambassador had witnessed Cadence cling to throughout each encounter. Instead came pinks, yellows, and baby blues, adorned with playfulness and glee. Octavia believed each lovely shade to be born of a doting family, at first, draping their daughter in cute fineries that accentuated her happiness to the world.

They hardly acknowledged her in every fragment that the Ambassador intruded upon.

She could’ve sworn Cadence’s memories were flashing more slowly than those of her predecessors. In all other tolls, Octavia had hardly seen so much of every stolen life. Maybe she had. Maybe it was her own fault for not paying attention. She’d fought to disconnect through several unfortunate instances, fearful of gruesome ends to come. She’d battled to honor Harper’s parents, at least, and even that had been a struggle between brave acknowledgement and horrified dissociation. For what exactly had befallen Cadence--and for her partial role in the girl’s downfall--she resolved to give her full attention. The severity of Cadence’s circumstances was already captivating enough, unfortunately.

The time it took her to escape her childhood memories was surely nothing compared to the time it took to live them. In complete contrast to love bestowed in utter excess upon Harper, Cadence’s parents hardly so much as looked at her. To summon an ounce of adoration, let alone offer a moment of their time, was rare and fleeting. What little of their acknowledgement did flash by was practically milliseconds in length compared to the rest of her agony. It made sense. Remembering the bad was easier than recalling the good. Given the Hell of a silent home, the confinement that followed was almost a blessing.

It wasn’t true confinement, and yet it may as well have been. The flash that followed the torture of neglect was that of, presumably, the one place Octavia associated with Cadence in any capacity.

The abundance of gray, alike in every fashion as its quiet victims treaded hallways and dormitories, left her hazarding a guess at the Solenford Girls’ Academy. Cadence’s footsteps throughout the establishment were heavy, her eyes eternally bound to the floor. Really, Octavia spent an inordinate amount of time taking in every facet of Cadence’s flats--shining buckle, material, shade, and all. So much time did Cadence spend looking down that Octavia hardly had the chance to view the academy at all. The rare occasions on which she raised her head were crowned only by faces from which she shied away. The words that would follow were unkind, usually. At the very least, they were unwelcome.

I want to leave.

I’m sorry, Miss Allegra, but you know the stipulations of your enrollment. This was the contract your parents agreed to.

How can I terminate it early?

You would need to fulfill all aspects of the contract immediately. That includes financial obligations.

Then this isn’t a school at all. It’s a prison.

I’m sorry to hear that you feel that way. I assure you, that is not at all our intent.

How much would I need to pay to get out?

I beg your pardon?

To terminate the contract, the financial part. How much?

You…you would need to repay your accumulated and future tuition simultaneously. Your contract is valid until you reach your eighteenth birthday. As such, given the time you’ve already been enrolled, in addition to all other costs attributable to your lodgings and care, you would need to repay a lump sum of 30,000,000 Gold.

Are you serious?

As a lump sum, mind you. No staggered payments would be acceptable.

30,000,000. Is that solid? It won’t change?

It is a fixed price, yes.

Not all sentiments she earned were orderly. Each flash wounded decorum once labeled prestigious, if Cadence’s own words long ago had meant anything. They were ruthless. They were unforgiving. They were cold.

You shouldn’t be alive.

Just die already.

Why are you still here?

Get away from me.

Get away from me.

At some point, they were no longer words alone. They became black. They became blue. They became red, splashed upon her body one vicious mark at a time. It didn’t matter how they got there. There were more than enough ways.

Get away from me.

Get away from me.

Get away from me!

Given the methods that tended to entail, far from voluntary on Cadence’s part, Octavia was once again thankful that the laws of a toll spared her physical pain. That made it absolutely no easier to watch. Sometimes her not-so-stranger screamed. Sometimes she didn’t. Sometimes she bothered with bandages. Sometimes she didn’t. Never did she look her harassers in the eyes the next day, the crime of her shy existence more than enough to paint an all-too-tempting target upon her back.

One flash conflicted heavily with the ultimate destination of the dark.

Devoid of light, freed for one moment from joyless giggling beyond a door so hastily locked, Octavia’s stolen gaze found familiarity in Hell. It was a strange place to find it, although she knew of odder methods. Gorgeous rosewood crowned the shelf of a storage closet, of all places. For all the later shirking of responsibility, for all the complaints and expressions of disdain, the instrument sheltered in Cadence’s makeshift refuge fit so comfortably in bruised hands.

Rotated, turned, and inspected at every angle, the care with which she handled the Harmonial Instrument was almost heartwarming. The way by which she traced the Harmonial Crest with one broken fingernail was equally breathtaking. Each delicate touch was emotional, and Octavia briefly wondered if this was the same girl she’d met not so long ago.

It didn’t last long.

Get out of my head!

Why do you detest me so, child?

I said stop talking to me!

Is there anything I could do to ease your pain?

Leave me alone!

That was new.

Ethel’s voice in a toll, of all places, would’ve made Octavia flinch. She compensated with a skipping heartbeat. It made sense, in theory--if Cadence earned it, so would she. The implications were unfortunate, if yet more forsaken Maestros would someday submit to the Ambassador’s touch. Octavia had come to greatly enjoy Ethel’s smooth voice, and yet the current circumstances were extremely uncomfortable. She wondered if he knew she’d be intruding upon hostility. She wondered how he’d feel about it, at that.

An excursion?

For educational purposes. Here’s my rationale letter.

Category?

Business and Economics Education.

Where, exactly?

Coda.

That is…significantly far. You were here before asking about the contract termination fee. Do you understand we would have to add extra to this fee for excursions, regardless of the quantity? Of course, travel costs would be taken into account, and you would need to prepare in advance for any missed coursework.

I’m fine with all of that. How much extra?

A voyage to Coda is a lengthy eleven days. That would be another 3,000 Gold, as would the return trip.

That’s fine.

What…exactly would you be doing there?

Trade and bartering observation. City-approved and funded. Accredited.

That was one way of putting it. Octavia knew exactly where this was going. She wasn’t looking forward to it.

The fragment that followed was achingly familiar and heavily lightning-flavored. She hardly needed to drink in the scene a second time, burned into her own head as it was. Still, for once, she’d been granted a gracious perspective upon the stage instead of tethered to the balcony. It left her with a front-row seat to the shock and awe on every face that witnessed the glorious essence of lightning.

Even with her lasting disdain for Etherion, Cadence still utilized his powers with aplomb. The way by which her mastery didn’t warrant the tiniest memory of merit for the girl was both baffling and painful. Disliking him wasn’t enough, apparently. She’d fought to forget him altogether.

Would you grant me the pleasure of knowing your name?

Octavia didn’t want to be here anymore.

Give me yours first.

Alessandro Drey.

If she could back out of a toll, she likely would’ve out of reflex. If she could shut her eyes, she would’ve fought to go blind forever. To see his face again was unbearable. To meet his deceivingly-kind gaze was unbearable. Octavia lamented the way her hands couldn’t move of her own accord. Near as he was, it would’ve been simple to reach out and strangle him. She would’ve killed him all over again. In a perfect world, by the privilege of the Ambassador, she would’ve ruined him for a second time.

Would you perhaps take interest in an internship?

Internship?

Octavia had told herself that she would focus. Now, she was struggling. She couldn’t help it, her heart twisted and ravaged by the man who’d stolen all she’d loved. If she tried, she could spot both herself and Viola in the distance. In the moment, their own eyes were wide with suspense and their body language oozed not-so-subtle fear. It was almost laughable, from this angle. How Drey hadn’t pressed them on their behavior was beyond her. All the gifts bestowed upon the Ambassador weren’t enough to tear him apart from here. That was beyond her, just the same.

You’re lying.

It was the briefest snippet. Octavia had almost forgotten it had happened. It was no less horrific, for how Madrigal’s eyes trained on Cadence’s own were ten times more terrifying head-on.

What’s its name?

Honestly, she was surprised this one was even here. She was grateful it was over quickly.

What followed was wholly unfamiliar, a chapter of Cadence’s life that shredded Octavia from the inside-out. There came Drey. It was all Drey. It was Drey in every tiny, fleeting memory, his face gentle and his words softer still. It was business deals in tandem, a sweeping introduction to SIAR, a tour born of love and enthusiasm for the man’s dream in the first place. It was each touch upon her small shoulders that she jerked away from. It was each approving pat upon her head from which she shied. It was each practiced handshake of business well done from which she hesitated. It was the way he welcomed her with open arms into every facet of his life.

It is with great pleasure that I would like to introduce you to Portia, one of my finest partners. I assure you, she is not quite as cold as she seems. Her mind is more brilliant than even the most gleaming of gemstones that grace her hands.

She’s…small. Where did you say this girl is from, Alessandro?

Would you be so surprised to believe that she, too, calls our home her own?

Is that so? Then she’ll fit right in with your little garbage hunts.

Nice to meet you.

Firm grip, at least. Respectable.

Give her time, my girl. She’ll surely come around.

It was the way he entrusted Cadence with his business, the way he honored exactly one promise. To his credit, he truly did bless her with the secrets of his trade, lectured on each delicate aspect of restoration. She was startlingly proficient at handling chemicals, even if the end product was clean and beautiful. She absorbed his world fast. She stopped running from his touch. She learned to smile.

You can just call me Samuel. It’s great to finally meet you. Alessandro has written to me about you while I’ve been traveling. He says you’ve been a wonderful help around the institute.

It’s nice to meet you, too. I’m…just doing what I’m supposed to.

Ah, but Samuel, she is a humble child! You must see her skills in the laboratory, she is a prodigy!

I don’t doubt it one bit. I look forward to getting to know you. Would you be interested in coming along for my next acquisition? There’s a trade I’ve got set up in a city quite a ways away from here, but I have a feeling you’d find its architecture and culture very inspiring. Not that it’s…particularly easy to observe.

I’m open to it. How far away?

A voyage of at least seven days. Not a quick journey, I’m afraid to say. Very worth your while, though, if you’re willing to tolerate it.

Why, Samuel, that is a splendid idea! Perhaps you would permit me to accompany you on your travels? I would be more than elated to witness the glory of the Blessed City with my own eyes once more. To see young Cadence’s reaction to such, of course, would be as much of a privilege.

Octavia knew the words.

I have no quarrel with a party of three. We set off in the morning, then. I apologize for the quick turnaround. Is that alright with you?

No.

I thought you told me I wasn’t supposed to bring my clarinet anywhere.

Consider this instance an exception. It is my explicit request that you would do so. Would you kindly indulge this businessman and satisfy my foolish plea? I recognize it to be so, my dear girl.

If…that’s what you want.

No no no no no.

Does he know?

Her own voice.

He doesn’t, and he never will.

In her fixation on drinking in Cadence’s life in full, Octavia had utterly forgotten.

Hold onto this. Keep it close to your heart.

What is it?

You’ll need it to reach our exchange point. Our client has been gracious enough to provide us with passage.

I thought you said he was in the city.

Our trip was twofold. To reach our true destination, we needed a bit of help. Don’t lose that, okay?

Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it.

It’s so…dark.

Have faith, my girl. Where you go, light within will follow. Should you reach for us, we are never far.

Is this really safe? This place looks questionable.

So long as you keep that clarinet close, you’ll be fine. Don’t let it leave your side, not even for a moment.

Why?

Trust me.

I know I…asked to come along, but I’m getting a bad feeling about this.

Are you hesitant to attend, Cadence? There is still time with which to turn back. I do not blame you. It is true that this city is quite unsavory at first glance. Why, I myself have never been here, either.

But I don’t want to be alone up in Velrose, either.

There’s a safe place you can go here if you’re scared. See how the streets slope downwards? Follow them all the way to the bottom. There’s a sanctuary. We’ll come back for you when we’re done, okay? Do you remember where we’re going if you need us sooner?

Y-Yes.

Remember, keep that instrument on you at all times. It’ll keep you out of trouble.

I…okay.

This deep into a toll, with her eyes where they were, was it even possible not to think about it? Was it possible to ignore the church? Was it possible to ignore the materials, the structures, each and every fleck of stone and dot of paint that Octavia had burnt into her mind long ago? Was it possible to blot out the organ’s song, knowing whose broken fingers were forced to punish its keys with every heavenly note? Was she in there, even now? Would Octavia see her? If she summoned all the strength she had, if she tried and strained and fought and flailed, could she close eyes that weren’t her own, just this once?

The close embrace of Etherion was defensive, yet comfortless. The echoing steps through each grand hallway and corridor, far too imposing and dark for a place meant to heal, were aimless. She’d never seen the dim, cramped room Cadence claimed for herself before. She’d never seen that screen. Opaque fibers were woven with such intricacy that their ornate craftsmanship was shamed by dull candlelight.

Octavia didn’t care where she was. She didn’t care what was happening. She wanted to leave. She wanted to be anywhere but here. Was it possible to vomit during a toll? She couldn’t breathe. Could she ever breathe?

Do I deserve to be this happy?

You feel that you do not, then?

I don’t know. I…I have to hide who I am from him, but he’s good to me all the same. If he knew, would he care? Would he hate me for lying? Do I deserve to be happy when he only knows one half of me?

What is it that you hide, my child?

I don’t feel safe saying it. Not here.

All is confidential. You are safe to speak at your leisure. You may entrust your pains to this holy place.

I still don’t want to.

I cannot force you.

I don’t want to be a…I don’t want that part of me to exist anymore. I don’t want to have anything else to hide. I don’t want it to follow me, I don’t want the voices in my head, I don’t want to be able to do the things that I can. I just want to be me. Is that really so unreasonable?

Surrender your suffering to the acolyte, in spirit and in truth, and she will bear the burden of your pain.

What are you…talking about?

She is our light. She is our hope, and our salvation. She is that which is meant to deliver us from agony. You, too, may give your troubles to her in name. Offer your prayers to her, and she will carry your soul.

Who’s the acolyte?

She is our flame.

I don’t want anyone else to have to deal with this mess, either. I want it to just…go away.

There must be one who bears the weight of suffering.

I wouldn’t wish what I’ve been through on anyone.

She was born only for the sake of that purpose. Such is her reason for existence.

That sounds awful.

It is her privilege.

How could you possibly say things like that?

We, too, are blessed by her in every conceivable way. It is she who absolves us of hurt.

You can’t just wish for someone else to hurt on your behalf!

There is no use for a worthless flame. This is what is meant to be.

Forget this!

Octavia was fairly certain she was going to faint, toll or not. She couldn’t focus, nor could she look away. This was Hell. No longer was she privy to a tragedy alone. She was front and center for an entire catastrophe of her own heart’s making. It had to end. It had to end eventually. There was no reason for Cadence to remember this part. One of them needed to forget. One of them absolutely, undoubtedly, undeniably needed to forget. She didn’t care which of them it was.

Laughter came from a room far off. Angered, hurried footsteps made in haste contrasted sharply with muffled joy, so rare in such a dark place. She found the sweetest giggle. She earned a chuckle she’d heard many times over. It was fleeting, beautiful, and so quickly gone. Octavia lamented her inability to bottle it and hold it close forever.

So hurried was Cadence that her path was barred by force, sudden and jarring. Plush carpet assailed her back, rosewood pressed close to her heart. There was a gaze upon calm eyes that stared back with soft confusion. It was a visage Octavia had grown close to, one who even now patiently awaited her return from the dark. He, too, called the unforgiving floor his temporary home, stunned in equal measure.

Are you okay?

He never earned a response. Octavia’s eyes had already left. Her not-so-stranger rose to her feet, escaping the only warmth to which she could cling in this nightmare.

Hey, wait!

If Octavia could reach out for his hand, just as he’d offered it to her before, she would’ve gladly gripped it for dear life.

Everything that came next was a blur.

You’re certain?

I heard them. It wasn’t really clear through the door, but I heard it while I was coming out. The acolyte is going to try to escape.

You have done marvelously, my girl. Fret no longer. We shall handle it from here.

Handle what?

The Velpyre Acolyte absolutely cannot leave the city. Horrible things will happen to the civilians if she does. People will be in danger. She needs to stay here.

If I might ask you one more favor, although I’ve begged so much of you already? Your sharp eyes are invaluable. We shall do what must be done. You must monitor the flight of the acolyte, should she slip past the gate. She must not depart this city at all costs.

Alone?

I told you. As long as you have that instrument, you’ll be okay. Be strong.

Octavia didn’t particularly blame Cadence for wanting to block this portion out. Were she in the same shoes, she surely would’ve, too. She couldn’t even block this out, as it was.

What is it? Did you see something?

Madrigal?

Madrigal, we need to go. Now.

Her own unwelcome voice be damned, it was happening again.

The flashes that followed were perhaps even more of a blur, moving at speeds so quick that Octavia’s eyes would’ve otherwise strained--had they been her own. The contrast between bright, sparking snippets and the torrential flood of agonizing haze crushing the world was unbelievable. If ever Octavia could compare a toll to a film, it was now. Every building, every decrepit house, every dim streetlight and ignorant loiterer, all were swallowed whole by the most horrific Dissonance Octavia had ever witnessed.

The unbearable screeching stood out above all else. Cadence’s own labored breathing and open sobbing were the only challengers to the relentless noise. Somewhere between cowering and battling, her body pressed tightly into the corner of an alleyway, she made a stand she’d surely never wished to make.

It was Etherion who sang instead. He sang, and sang, and sang, crackling and humming notes blessing Cadence with unstable protection. A swirling vortex of flickering sparks jolted and rippled through the cursed air, woven closely together with care. It reminded Octavia of her own radiant barrier, somewhat, so desperately clung to high above soon after. Even now, somewhere, Josiah was in the same Hell, sprinting for his life. The only thing that moved faster than the rushing waves of sickening purple were Cadence’s fingers. Bitter tears of terror and regret dripped helplessly onto the Harmonial Instrument she’d come to despise.

For as short a memory as it was, the fragment itself felt simultaneously far too long.

My dear girl, my sweet, sweet girl, are you alright? Are you unharmed?

I-I-I…I’m…I don’t know, I don’t know.

There, there, curb your tears. The worst has passed, and you are safe in my arms. I will not let you go from my sight again. You have done beautifully.

Y-You left me down there!

I could not return, although I tried many a time! Cadence, I swear unto you that I would never abandon you, so long as I live. Your life is precious. You must treasure it in every way, and live as you alone wish to live. For this, I will fight. It is for this, too, that I regret I did not do more to keep you safe. Could ever you forgive this hopeless fool who has forsaken you so?

I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…doubt you like that. I was so scared. I-I thought I was going to die.

And yet, you have survived to live another day. Know that I am ever grateful for your salvation, and will be for all time. Yet, my girl, I am hesitant to ask, how is it you escaped unscathed?

I-I…I…

You…do not have to tell me if you do not wish to.

Mr. Drey, I’m…I…

You are special.

What?

I know it to be true. I am so sorry, dear girl, if you felt the need to conceal it from me.

Are you…mad at me? For hiding it?

I could never be angry with my most wonderful intern. Know that I only wish you to walk the path of a child free from such a burden. I pray that you tread a path unhindered by the unnatural. You, too, wish for the same, do you not?

Yeah. I do.

Then lay down that clarinet and use your skilled hands for fruits borne of so many other talents. You are an incredible child, with an incredible future. I do not wish for you to squander it in such a dangerous world, with such an unpredictable fate. Of this, I am prepared to beg you. Will you do this for me alone?

I will.

He knew.

To use him in this way, how many have you hurt? What have you done?

From there, the path to the end was clear.

I believe her.

Octavia wondered if she’d finish on a note of pity. Cadence’s own voice was a resounding reminder.

Please, I want to be of use to you.

To the very end, his vicious, deceptive face was the last thing that greeted her fading gaze. Gentle and remorseful as it was, it meant nothing. There was no surprise that came with the steel through her heart, Octavia’s shared vessel that had surely ached forever. The blood that gushed forth, the sounds and sights of betrayal from such an angle, none of it was graced by tears. Instead, they were poisoned by confusion to the last breath she drew.

It was slow. It was tragic. It was as painless as it was painful. The way Octavia’s eyes, also loaned as they were, floated solemnly to Etherion as they dimmed was not lost on her. It was Etherion, too, who’d been witness to tragedy from the start.

◆ ◆ ◆

The brightness of the sun, by comparison, made her recoil. Were she somewhat less disoriented emerging from the tragic tale, Octavia might’ve had the foresight to shield eyes that had finally been returned to her. At the moment, Cadence’s suffering was overshadowed, whether or not Octavia wanted it to be. Of all the memories she’d stolen from the girl, and of all the fragments and snippets thrust upon her in the dark, there were more than enough that had followed her out.

She couldn’t breathe.

“You okay?” Josiah asked softly.

He’d been there, too. He’d been in that place, in that context, adjacent to that horrific catastrophe. She’d seen him through eyes not her own. She’d heard his genuine laugh alongside someone who would never again do the same. That was her fault. Was that her fault? How could she face him?

“Hey, Octavia, what’s going on?” he asked again, his voice somewhat more urgent.

She couldn’t stop thinking about it. Not thinking about it wasn’t working. There was no escaping it, for how it had been stamped so firmly onto her eyes. It burned. It seared. It ached and stung and stole her life away. Octavia was dizzy. She felt sick. If she stained Viola’s beautiful yard, would the Maestra be furious with her? It was about to be far from a conscious decision. Her body hurt. It wasn’t Sunday. There were bells anyway. She wondered what the occasion was, deafening as they were growing to be.

“Hey, it’s alright, it’s alright. Just breathe, okay? Breathe for a minute. Focus on that. You don’t have to do anything else besides that. Can you do that for me, at least?”

Octavia shook her head. There was no breathing. There was no oxygen. There was no reprieve, nor relief, nor stifling everything that shredded her to pieces in somewhere so peaceful. The one logical part of her was embarrassed to be breaking down in front of Josiah. The other 99% of her had far greater concerns, such as remembering how to maintain her balance when she was trembling this severely.

Hands on her shoulders, even delicately placed as they were, still made her recoil. She didn’t have the energy to pull away, as much as she wanted to. With the most gentle touch, he tilted her chin upwards, claiming her gaze by force with clear tranquility of his own.

“Octavia, talk to me. Whatever’s going through your head right now, don’t deal with it alone. I need you to tell me what’s wrong or I can’t help.”

“You don’t understand,” she murmured, shocking herself with the astounding clarity of wobbling words. Even with her eyes watering uncontrollably and every facet of her body betraying her, her speech was mystically intact.

“Help me understand,” Josiah requested.

“I can’t, I can’t!” Octavia cried. “I can’t do this anymore!”

His eyes widened. “The tolls?”

Again, she shook her head. “No, no, this! I can’t, I can’t! It hurts!”

“What…hurts?” Josiah asked quietly, his voice low. His hands were still, trapping her eyes in place with his own.

“I don’t want to hurt like this anymore, I hate it! I hate feeling this way!”

“But what’s hurting you?” he asked once more, slightly louder.

She couldn’t stop herself from throwing her palms over her ears. It was a reflex. The phantoms of the bells still poked at her eardrums. “I can’t deal with this! I can’t live like this!”

Josiah released her shoulders, his own firm voice trembling in the slightest. “What are you talking about? What’s going on?”

“I…I can’t!” Octavia said, her words strained with the effort of reining in her breath. Any less control and she’d surely faint from hyperventilating.

“Please, just talk to me!”

“I can’t do this anymore!” she sobbed.

“I don’t understand!” Josiah argued, clenching his fists.

“I’m sorry! I can’t, I really, really can’t! It hurts!”

“They’ll stop hurting you if you’d just listen to them for once, Sel!”

His cry was so loud that it outright overshadowed Octavia’s own. Given the volume to which he raised his voice, it was only isolation outdoors that spared any wandering Maestros from following the sound. Still, it made her jump. Harsh as it was, it was louder than the bells. In truth, to both her immense relief and confusion alike, it scared them away in full.

The breath she thought she’d lost still eluded her somewhat. At the very least, it had the decency to begin the gradual return to her lungs. Octavia was absolutely not okay. If nothing else, she was functional, albeit not by much. Should she peer through her own haze, she could find a boy shaken in his own way. Granted, he wasn’t even slightly as impaired. It was more than enough.

Josiah’s fists, clenched so tightly that he risked halting his circulation, were matched only by gritted teeth and agonized eyes. His shoulders heaved with labored breaths, and the way his eyelids fluttered shut time after time spoke to grasps at self-control. Never had Octavia seen him this way. To be fair, she was sure he’d never seen her this way. She was very much regretting her panic, for more reasons than one.

He averted his eyes, running one shaky hand through his hair. “I-I…sorry. Nevermind.”

Octavia couldn’t resist the knots strangling her stomach, different as they were from those still gradually unfurling. “Jo…siah?”

The boy exhaled sharply. “Don’t worry about it. I’m…are you alright?”

His answer wasn’t good enough. The urge to send his question back was overpowering. “I’ll be…fine. Are you okay?”

Josiah didn’t bother with words, gifting her a silent nod alone.

“I’m…sorry you had to see that,” Octavia murmured.

“I’m sorry you had to hear that,” Josiah offered back. “I…won’t pry. I’m thinking maybe talking about whatever you saw isn’t the best idea. I’m sorry for making you do this.”

Octavia sighed, her breath rattling in the process. Even now, she struggled to still her trembling fingers. “I-I would’ve had to do it anyway. I’m the Ambassador.”

Again, he nodded. “Still. I wish you didn’t have to do this at all.”

When she didn’t answer immediately, Josiah continued. His voice had softened and calmed, notably. It contrasted with the blank fog that stifled the hurt in his eyes.

“I don’t want to be a Maestro anymore.”

She thought she’d misheard, at first. “What?”

“This is the…last thing I’m asking of you, and then I swear I’ll leave you alone. I needed to get it all done in one shot, before…”

He paused, peering over his shoulder. “Before someone tries to talk me out of it.”

Octavia’s eyes widened. “You…don’t want to be a Maestro anymore? Why?”

Josiah closed his eyes for several seconds before his blank gaze brushed her again. “I never wanted to be one. Don’t get me wrong, it definitely had its benefits. There’s a lot I don’t think I could’ve pulled off without Ethel’s help, but just having that help in the first place made me feel…sick.”

He crossed his arms, a gesture far more defensive than casual. “I…I’ll never regret saving you and Harper. I’d do it again in a heartbeat. I don’t want you to think I resent that choice, even for a second. I respect the world you’re a part of, all of you. I respect the things you do, the powers you have, everything you protect. I really, really like being with all of you, and I pray to God that this doesn’t change anything, because I have a feeling everyone’s gonna be pissed off at me.”

Octavia didn’t interrupt. It was Josiah who offered her words of praise instead, delicate as they were. “I respect you. I admire you, the things you do and the things you go through for the sake of others--and not just the Ambassador stuff. You’re an incredible person. In a way, maybe I owe it to you to suck it up and keep being a Maestro. Whatever contributes to your mission.”

She held fast to her silence beneath the weight of his words, unable to return more than the shimmer in her eyes. It was involuntary. She wondered if he’d notice.

“I respect your world,” Josiah murmured, “but it’s a world that took away everything I loved. I don’t…want to be a part of it. I hope you understand. I just want to be me. Is…that okay?”

Her heart sank. Octavia had no words to match the burden of his, brief as they were. She settled for action instead, her hands instantly latching onto his own. The jolt he gave under the sensation of their fingers entangling didn’t shake her in the slightest.

“You are more than enough,” Octavia said. “I like ‘just you’ just as much. I want you to be happy. That’s more important than any lightning I could have helping me out.”

Josiah didn’t smile. He did, at least, offer her the kind eyes she’d missed. “You mean that?”

It was Octavia who did what she could to craft a smile instead. “Besides, Ethel has to go home eventually. There’s not a lot of difference between sooner rather than later, right? I think Breileneth would be happy to have some company.”

Octavia found the returned smile she’d been fishing for from him, fragile and weak as it was. He squeezed her hands tightly once more, unfurling himself from her reassuring grasp with the utmost care. His eyes drifted upwards. “Is that alright with you, then?”

Octavia had forgotten that they’d had an onlooker for the entire exchange. It was enough for her to flush. He nodded, immune to her embarrassment. “I am grateful for both your disposition and the Ambassador’s guidance. I have no opposition to returning Above.”

Josiah fixed Octavia with a smirk. “And now I get to actually see how you do this. I’m first in line.”

Octavia couldn’t stifle a giggle. “Well, geez, don’t stare or anything, or you’re gonna make me nervous. Hold out his vessel again. If you have any goodbyes, say them now, okay?”

His only goodbye was side-eyed, at best. “Thanks for…indulging me. You’re really not that bad of a guy. Sorry I’m not so great of a person. For how badly I treated you, I don’t think I’m much better than your last Maestro.”

Ethel only chuckled, a warm sound that satisfied Octavia’s heart. “You are not the heartless boy you make yourself out to be. I see within you the love you harbor for others, much as you struggle to express it. In you, I say once more, I can perhaps even see myself. You fit your legacy well.”

Josiah scoffed. “Don’t try to get on my good side. I wish you the best.”

“And I you, for what pains you have suffered. Ambassador, do you remember the incantation?”

Octavia nodded, her fingertips delicately brushing against the warm rosewood. “I think so.”

She inhaled deeply. “I have borne witness to your--”

The words on her lips were cut short by the world shifting sideways, backwards, and sideways once more.

In less time than she had to scream, she was aloft, her feet untethered to the ground as her back instead bashed against the thick hedges. She fell face-first, wiry grass and fresh dirt assaulting her cheeks on the way down. The intensity of the sudden blow left her coughing. For a moment, she’d managed to convince herself that she’d tripped in the most spectacular way possible--airborne and all. Josiah’s secondhand account convinced her otherwise, calling out for her well after the fact.

“Octavia!” he cried, one outstretched hand rescinding its offer. The damage had already been done.

She could at least be grateful to the breeze that helped to brush the dirt from her cheeks. She appreciated the way it cleaned her skin in passing as she struggled to her feet with a groan. Really, the day had more so blessed her with a gust than a breeze in general, rustling her braids in a manner mildly annoying. With one hand, she did what she could to keep them flat. The way they tangled with the dirt splashed upon her cheeks was annoying in and of itself. The skirt of her dress, far from immune, was ruffled in tandem beneath the sudden gale. Octavia resisted the urge to roll her eyes, given how even nature saw fit to torment her today.

The slow, crystalline melody came second to the wind.

The fingers that plucked at the strings, she knew. The golden harp sparkling relentlessly beneath the radiant sun, she knew. The soft, supple buns that crowned the gorgeous, springy curls, she knew all too well. The song was far from what she’d come to memorize, the notes foreign in a way almost inexplicable. Even the wind, strong as she knew it to be, was different. Encircling her at every angle, never once had it been so cold.

Octavia knew the eyes. She hadn’t seen them in so, so long, unnatural as they were. She remembered them to be piercing, unforgiving, and nearly hateful in their own right. She remembered them to be anyone’s but Madrigal’s, trapped behind what otherwise would’ve been a bubbly gaze filled with joy and love for the world. She hated what light had disappeared. She hated the way they looked at her.

“Get away from him.”

It didn’t matter that the voice carried the harmonies of Madrigal’s words. It wasn’t Madrigal’s, and that was all that mattered. Even so, it was strikingly familiar, unmistakable in every fashion. Octavia had become so accustomed to it lately that she could hardly call herself the Ambassador if she were to forget it. Honestly, it should’ve been the last thing on her mind, for how the ground had already been stolen from beneath her once more.