Harmony

“He’s…already dead. You’re sure?”

“I’m positive.”

“I don’t think I’m entirely following. I mean, that explains a motive, I think, but there’s still gaps.”

“It’s not necessarily him. He has people.”

Octavia nodded, sniffling. “People associated with him. There’s two of them. I don’t know if they’re both involved. In my case, at least, this is the only thing that makes sense.”

“Do you…still think these are all related?”

“If it’s for the sake of getting back at her, then maybe.”

“That’s awful.”

It had taken Octavia another fifteen minutes to regain her composure. She was left coated in streaking trails of sorrow and red patches tainting her face by the time she was done. She’d had to be physically peeled off of the floor, too weak to stand alone. For once, there was little embarrassment that came with her breakdown. Octavia felt justified, even beneath the eyes of every Maestro who eyed her with concern. She had thrown things, apparently. She’d started with Stradivaria. She offered him a silent apology.

The only apologies she could give to those more mortal, both for her display of despair and aggressive behavior, were the best "highlights" she could muster. Rationalizing was significantly more difficult, and piecing the sickening puzzle together was still no simple task. Even so, it was something to work with. She thanked whatever god would listen that they hadn’t left it to her alone, for how the most agonizing darkness still haunted her in the light. Logical leadership, right now, was far, far beyond her.

“I don’t think it’s just about getting back at me,” Octavia explained, her voice still somewhat unstable. “If I understood right, I think he meant to go after any Maestros. He just…happened to find a few of them in a row. Now that he’s gone, I…I don’t know.”

Viola squeezed her hand tightly, an appreciated gesture of reassurance. Octavia's squeeze in return was much more feeble, and her fingers ached in the process.

“So it’s possible that they picked up where he left off,” Josiah muttered under his breath.

“Again, I’m not 100% sure if that fits everything. It still doesn’t explain some other stuff.”

“Like what?” Harper asked.

“Well,” Octavia began, “why would someone warn Madrigal’s brother that his home was going to be attacked?”

He paused, crossing his arms. “I already told you this, but someone paid Holly and Ivy after all of that…mess. I still don’t know who did that, either.”

“It’s weird as hell that she got two different envelopes, too,” Renato added. “What was in the second one, again?”

Octavia eyed the single sentence that had sent her to Hell, innocently exposed on the table. “It…told me to witness a toll, I think. Drey’s toll, specifically. I’m almost positive that’s how I was supposed to interpret it.”

“Someone does know that you’re the Ambassador?” Madrigal asked.

Octavia nodded. “Seems like it.”

“So there’s someone starting problems,” Josiah continued, “and someone undoing them.”

“Or, at least, trying to,” Viola offered. “And it…sounds like they know some things that they shouldn’t.”

“Is that related to Drey, too?” Madrigal murmured.

Octavia squeezed Viola’s hand once more. “I don’t know. I honestly have no idea. The only thing I know with complete confidence is that Drey is involved in my problem--somehow. If that ends up being related to everyone else’s situations, then I’m…I’m sorry. This is my fault.”

Viola shook her head. “It’s not your fault. None of this is your fault. If he really is involved in some way, then it’s his fault alone, and no one else’s.”

Octavia blinked fresh tears away. “There’s…another thing that doesn’t make sense, now that I think about it.”

“What’s that?”

Octavia hesitated. She’d almost forgotten, frankly. “Someone…cleaned up after Drey’s death. The story was different. He wasn’t ‘killed’, he ‘died’. Some kind of chemical accident. Someone covered up for me.”

Harper whistled. “One hell of a problem fixed.”

“What are we supposed to do from here?” Josiah asked, running one hand through his hair absentmindedly.

Octavia paused. She didn’t want to say it, let alone entertain it. The taste of the words on her tongue alone made her ill. It was necessary all the same.

“I have one idea. You’re not gonna like it.”

Josiah gave her his attention. Collective eyes were offered to her in unison. Octavia inhaled slowly.

“I think…we have to go back to SIAR.”

For a moment, there was silence. For a moment longer, she found no words to continue.

“It’s all I can think of. Maybe there’s something waiting for us there.”

“Not opposed to the idea of going back and pissing on his corpse.”

The extreme rhetoric from Renato made Octavia's stomach do a full flip. She wasn’t the only one to recoil, at least half the room burning him with wide-eyed shock and surprise. Even Madrigal’s mouth was agape, the words to scold him evaporating into thin air all around.

Even still, Octavia knew the glassy eyes, half-lidded and apathetic. Renato shrugged, nonplussed at the baffled attention. “I’m down for it. Let’s go. I’m serious.”

Second thoughts settled in immediately. He hadn’t so much as crossed her mind. Octavia kicked herself. She kicked herself again.

Finding words to follow his own was a nightmare. “I-I…I’m just following a feeling I’ve got. I feel like it’s at least worth checking.”

Harper tilted his head. “Well, usually you following your instincts has led us to productive places. I’m up for following you on that.”

“I won’t leave your side,” Madrigal said softly with a smile. “The Magical Madrigal will protect the Ambassador at all costs.”

“Not looking forward to another long train ride,” Josiah muttered, “but you know I’ll go with you. You don’t need to question that.”

When Viola squeezed Octavia's hand once more, it was enough to warm her inside. “I’ll follow my fearless leader anywhere. If we find something, we find something. If we don’t, we don’t.”

“Frankly, whatever gets us the hell out of Coda,” Josiah continued under his breath.

“We’ve gotta start looking for more Maestros again, too, right?” Harper said. “We’re gonna have to leave anyway. Solenford is as good a place to start as any.”

“So we’re all in agreement on this, then?” Viola asked aloud.

“When will we be back?” Madrigal pressed.

Viola shook her head. “We’re probably not coming back for a long time, especially if we’re gonna keep searching for other Maestros. We should take a little while to get ready, in my opinion.”

Josiah nodded. “I’m fine with that. I’ve been meaning to find an apothecary and do some shopping for a while. All of you keep getting beaten up so badly that I’m damn near out of half of my stuff.”

Harper winced. So did Octavia. “Sorry about that,” said the former.

“Trains to Solenford are easy to come by, so it’s not like that’ll take a lot of effort to book,” Viola explained. “Can we all deal with being ready a day from now, then?”

There was a collective nod of understanding. Madrigal took it notably well, given the circumstances.

“We’re gonna go on another adventure together as a team!” she cheered with too much enthusiasm, arms aloft with glee.

She did, admittedly, draw several chuckles of amusement from assorted Maestros. Octavia would’ve done the same, on any other occasion. Still, it wasn’t her joyous expression that caught Octavia’s attention. It was the Maestro, instead, who was anxiously bouncing his leg and tapping his hand against the arm of the sofa. It was the Maestro whose eyes were thrown to the floor, his free hand supporting the weight of his cheek.

Octavia lamented the way the brim of his hat had slipped over his eyes, severing her one nonverbal line of communication from his. It took him a while to offer it of his own accord, raising his head somewhat. The loaded, hesitant gaze was only for her, tinged in just the slightest with something she couldn’t quite place. He’d always been bad about body language.

Renato smirked at her silently, never taking his eyes off hers. Octavia hoped he meant it.

Octavia had little to actually prepare. One day consisted mostly of repacking what scattered belongings adorned Viola’s rented room. She briefly considered purchasing more balsa to carve, and yet her supply was solid enough. She considered, too, stealing what books Viola’s library had to offer--although she found absolutely nothing of merit. For a study so sprawling, it was astounding that not a single fleck of literature was anything short of boring. It had been an issue for her entire stay. Her singular task left her with far more time to kill than it should’ve. She regretted putting the carving tools at the bottom of her bag.

The others were less aimless, by comparison. Harper corrected his mistake of entrusting his thorough goodbyes to another, spending ample time in a particular place so dearly beloved--flameless as it now was. Viola could cook, and that much had been established with disdain. Still, Madrigal had beaten her to it, the kitchen aglow with love and care even now for the travels to come.

Josiah’s unlicensed medical practices were encouraged by an updated arsenal. A focus on replenishment, at least, offered a welcome relief from Octavia's relentless doctor. She would’ve preferred the pain that came with Lyra’s violent assault. If she was forced to drink any more ginger tea, she was going to die.

Octavia wasn’t sure where Renato was. She gave him his space.

It left her with time to handle the one obligation she’d been intending to handle for weeks. Octavia was both surprised and not that she hadn’t gotten around to it by now, chaotic as her life had been. Her words of appreciation to Eleanor Vacanti had been offered largely in passing, fleeting and flimsy. Not once had she given the woman her gratitude in full. For all that had come to pass within the walls of Vacanti Manor lately, Octavia owed her that much--if not more. They weren’t particularly quiet people.

She’d gotten better about navigating, by which the manor no longer threatened to swallow her whole with every straying step. The abundance of rooms was not even slightly her fault. If nothing else, Eleanor’s was unique enough. She never made it that far, intentional as her route was regardless. It wasn’t often that their paths crossed naturally. Beyond her room as the woman was, Octavia couldn’t resist the momentary urge to look for the cat.

Her boots squeaked against the tile below as she staggered to a halt, nearly colliding with her gracious host altogether. “M-Miss Eleanor, hi!” Octavia stuttered.

If she’d startled Viola’s grandmother, it didn’t show. “Good afternoon, Octavia.”

It wasn’t as though she’d had much to offer in the first place. “Uh…I just wanted to thank you for letting us stay here for a while. Thank you for taking us into your home. I know we’re kinda loud, and we make messes--we make a lot of messes, really--and we can be annoying to deal with sometimes, but I really appreciate you putting up with us.”

Eleanor only shook her head with a soft smile. “There’s no need to thank me. Any friend of Viola’s is always welcome in this home. If you’d like to live here, my dear, just say the word.”

Octavia didn’t particularly hate the idea. She had absolutely no clue why it made her blush. “N-No, i-i-it’s fine! I-I really appreciate the offer, though! I have to go home to Silver Ridge, eventually.”

“Is that so?” Eleanor mused. “The offer will always stand. I know Viola would be more than happy to have company. She used to be such a lonely child.”

Octavia’s heart sank. “After Vincent, right? And her mother?”

Eleanor nodded sadly. “Even in her studies, she was so distant from the other children. She had acquaintances, yes, but not one could be considered a friend. This was a desolate place for a child to grow up. I doubt I did her the justice of being the company that she deserved.”

“She…didn’t have anyone else at all?”

The smile that Octavia earned was somewhat surprising. “You were her first true friend, my girl. To see her surrounded now by such loving, caring people, that is bliss. The way she laughs, the way she smiles, the way she shouts and bickers, it is a far cry from who she was not so long ago. I cannot thank you enough. I ask that you all continue to love my darling girl, just as you have done.”

Octavia beamed. “We…will. We do.”

“She speaks so highly of you,” Eleanor added. “She talks of you more than any of her friends, really. It seems you’re often on her mind.”

Octavia flushed. “In a bad way?”

Eleanor shook her head. “In a good way. In a very good way, my dear.”

Octavia fidgeted, forgoing direct eye contact altogether. “What…what kinds of things does she sa--”

“Grandmother?”

Octavia jumped so severely that she almost slipped. It was nothing short of a miracle that she didn’t bash her head into Viola’s face as she recoiled, given how near the girl had drawn to her shoulder. Apparently, she was alone in her reaction. It only left her more embarrassed.

“Hello, my love,” Eleanor greeted with a warm smile.

Viola returned it, more than immune to Octavia’s settling surprise. For that, the latter was as lucky as she was grateful. “Are you guys saying goodbye?” Viola asked.

Eleanor nodded. “Octavia was giving me her thanks on behalf of herself and your friends for their stay. I told her the sentiment was well-appreciated, but unnecessary nonetheless. As I’ve mentioned, any friend of yours is always welcome in this house.”

Viola’s smile softened. She tucked one stray lock of hair behind her ear. “I…that’s very kind of you. I think I’ll take you up on that.”

Octavia raised a playful eyebrow. “And live with you, apparently?”

Viola blushed, embarrassed eyes snapping to her grandmother. “You asked her to live with me?” she hissed through her teeth.

Eleanor laughed. “I may have made the offer. I would extend the same to any of your friends, of course.”

“There’s a few of them I don’t think she’d like living with very much,” Octavia teased.

Viola groaned. “Do you know how tempted I’ve been to kick him out?”

“He didn’t even do anything to you,” she said with a snicker.

“He said I can’t cook!”

“In his defense, you told him the same thing.”

“I-I…ugh!” she growled, tangling her fingers into her hair.

It was enough to make Octavia laugh. “You want to pretend you hate him, but I know you don’t.”

Viola sighed. “He gets on my nerves so badly. I know he’s…not really that bad. I’ve seen him be good to you.”

She beamed. “You’ve been good to Renato, too. You got him his hands, right?”

Viola shook her head. “Actually, I didn’t. I wanted to thank grandmother for that, too. I…know we’re already a lot to deal with, but that was…wonderful. You didn’t need to do that.”

The gaze of gratitude she offered to Eleanor, Octavia made doubly sure to match. The eyes Eleanor returned, by comparison, were nothing short of perplexed.

“Are you talking about the boy with the hat, dear? And the wooden hands?”

Viola nodded. Eleanor tilted her head in the slightest.

“What are you referring to?”

Viola blinked. “I’m…thanking you for ordering his prosthetics.”

“I didn’t order him those prosthetics.”

Viola froze. Her face alone was enough to perplex Octavia in turn.

“I thought you had ordered them,” Eleanor continued softly.

“Are you…sure? You didn’t place an order and then…forget about it?”

“I promise.”

The stress splashed across Viola’s expression was contagious. Octavia couldn’t stop staring. “Is…everything okay?”

“Thank you for…everything, grandmother. Really. I’ll make it up to you someday,” Viola said, her voice somewhat strained.

Eleanor, at least, offered a smile in lieu of what Viola couldn’t give herself. “Don’t worry one bit. Your happiness is all I could ask for. You’ve grown into a beautiful Maestra. Don’t forget to write to your grandmother from time to time, alright?”

Viola fought to forge a grin just as strained. “I will, I promise.”

Eleanor beamed. “And give Silver Brevada my regards.”

Octavia couldn’t fight a smile of her own. The mental image of Eleanor and her partner face-to-face was as humorous as it was warm. Given how cozy her charm truly was, she strongly doubted the brash Muse would have the heart to be difficult with her. For the most fleeting moment, regardless of the consequences that would follow, she was almost tempted to find out the hard way.

Viola practically dragged her away by her sleeve, and Octavia nearly stumbled as she left. It was all she could do to throw a hasty wave over her shoulder, somewhere between annoyed and concerned. “What’s wrong?” she whispered in the midst of her departure.

Viola bit her lip. “You know how we just had that whole talk about things that don’t make sense?”

Octavia nodded.

“I just found another one.”

It took a moment. It took several, actually. It bothered her more than the others, and she couldn’t pinpoint why. Cherry oak was beautiful, if not tragic fourfold. Upon more of the same, it was a silver lining in the wake of suffering. The universe had blessed Octavia with the most gentle of coincidences, clinging to another in turn. If she couldn’t find confidence in a miracle, then she had no confidence left at all. One of those, in particular, was nothing new.

Josiah wasn’t the only one sick and tired of train rides. He coped with it. He didn’t have much of a choice, and neither did she.

Three days had been long already, blunted by novelty and shielded by ignorance. Seven days had been mired in grief, and Octavia had somewhat blocked it out at this point. Eleven days had consisted of utter exhaustion, if not grueling decompression that plagued her with uncontrollable thoughts. At the very least, each and every time, she’d had company. That hadn’t changed. It was her second time returning to one destination in particular, and that was an equal familiarity. She knew what was at the end of the voyage thrice over, travel time be damned. That was different. For once, she had no idea what awaited at SIAR. No amount of thinking about it was helping.

Her lingering internal dilemma, this time around, came in the form of suspense. Idle conversation was a mild deterrent, as was the distraction of companionship at large. At the very least, Octavia hadn’t cried at all in the past ten days--a notable difference in and of itself, unfortunately. There was still one more day for that to change. They had company of their own, lightly populated or otherwise. She was quiet enough regardless, and what human partnership she ever shirked was replaced with a violin. He never once left her side, as was required anyway.

Above all else, do not trust Stratos.

She hadn’t actually spoken to him since Drey’s toll. Part of her had outright blocked out Ethel’s words altogether, both secondary to general discomfort and fear of dissection. She thought to ask as to whether or not the two got along in the first place, for how she’d seen quarrels somewhat sharper between Muses already. They could have relationships, apparently. If love was an option, the opposite was just as viable. Octavia still hadn’t fully processed the former. Again, she dismissed his lingering voice in her head, bound for Above as he’d been. She had enough to deal with at the moment.

Why Viola bothered to knock on a door to a room they both explicitly shared was beyond her. She could’ve just entered. Octavia said as much.

“Come in? Why are you knocking?”

The Maestra did, in her defense. Silver Brevada’s case nearly smacked against the doorframe as she shuffled in, sliding the door shut in her wake. “Why are you by yourself?”

More or less sprawled out on the mattress, she hadn’t actually bothered to change her clothes yet. She still had filtering sunlight, weak as it was in its fading departure. That left her with brutal honesty. “Being bored. Killing time. Doing nothing productive.”

“Are you going to bed soon?” Viola asked, unslinging the flute from her shoulder.

Octavia shook her head, her braids ruffling against the sheets. “Nah. Planning a big night of laying here and doing nothing.”

Viola didn’t bother asking permission before climbing into the bed, every spring squeaking beneath the weight of her sudden movements. Octavia bounced slightly as she did so. The feeling wasn’t entirely unpleasant.

“That wasn’t an invitation,” she joked.

“Did you bring any books?” Viola asked.

“No, because every book in your library sucks.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she bristled.

“I like educational stuff as much as the next person, but there’s textbooks in there, Viola. Textbooks. Nobody’s reading math for fun. I have absolutely no use for…I don’t know, economics. There was one on the upper shelf that literally put me to sleep. Every book in there was super boring. You don’t even have any fiction? Seriously?”

Viola scoffed. “Sorry we don’t stock encyclopedias of mushrooms.”

“I promise you, they’re interesting if you give them a chance.”

Something notably rectangular came to a hovering stop before Octavia’s eyes, obscured slightly by poor lighting. “Here,” Viola said.

Octavia had no idea what she was looking at. She was too uninvested to squint. “What?”

“It’s a book.”

“That’s great. Proud of you.”

“No, stupid. Read it to me.”

Octavia snickered. She declined to raise her arms, and it left a thick clump of literature levitating precariously just above her face. Watching Viola keep it there was more amusing than it should’ve been. “You know how to read.”

“Yeah, but I…read me a bedtime story or something. It’s more fun,” she muttered.

“You’re not five.”

“So?”

Octavia sighed. “What’s it about?”

“I, uh, couldn’t find any fiction either, so it’s educational again. It’s about medicine.”

Octavia groaned. “Seriously? And you didn’t give it to Josiah?”

“I’m giving it to him after, because the minute he has it, I’m not getting it back. Read. Teach me things.”

“This sounds like an awful bedtime story. You want me to read to you, you can flip the pages. And hold it.”

Viola rolled her eyes, although not without a smile. Octavia didn’t actually expect her to do it. To her surprise, her floating square of literature was split wide before her eyes, the text just barely distant enough from her pupils that words were legible. She smirked.

“Also, it’s like, what, six o’clock? You don’t even need a bedtime story yet.”

“Reeeead,” Viola whined, shaking the book dramatically. Octavia laughed.

“‘The’. Done, good night.”

“I can’t stand you.”

“How about you read to me, then?”

Viola averted her eyes. “I feel like you’d have a nicer…you know, book-reading voice than me. It’d be nice to listen to.”

Octavia’s smile was faint, weakening by the minute. “Nobody’s ever read to you before?”

Viola withdrew the book from before Octavia’s eyes, settling the unread text into her lap instead. “My father used to, but it’s been a really long time. I just…I was wondering what it’d be like to hear it again. I know you like reading, so you were the first person I thought of.”

The way she wouldn’t look directly at Octavia was distressing. It took effort for Octavia to push herself into a sitting position, and it was effort well worth the trouble. She extended one upturned palm towards the quiet girl. “Gimme the book. I’ll read to you.”

When Viola finally met her gaze, the tiny shimmer she caught made her heart flutter. “Really?”

She nodded. “Yeah. No promises that it’s not gonna be insanely boring, though.”

Viola giggled, offering the book with one hand. “I’m fine with boring.”

The sudden screech of rails against metal was exceedingly jarring. Viola outright dropped the book, the discarded text hitting Octavia somewhat painfully in the knee instead. What followed was a decrease in velocity that made Octavia’s stomach churn, both literally and figuratively. She eyed Viola with confusion, receiving the exact same look in return. Her gaze drifted to the window, and the muted reds and oranges trickling into the room flickered in the slightest. That, too, slowed, much like the onward movement beneath her.

“Are we…stopping?” Viola asked aloud.

Octavia didn’t respond immediately, pushing herself off of the bed. Already, she was reaching for Stradivaria out of habit. “I thought we still had another day left.”

Viola had done the same respectively, discarding the book as she gripped the strap of Silver Brevada’s case. “I did, too. Maybe we miscounted? It’s been a long time.”

Octavia squeezed past her, cracking the door open. If they’d miscounted, so had everyone else. Of the strangers who’d accompanied her travels for the past ten days, all were present simultaneously. Most were moving forward where the world beneath her was not, belongings donned and floating in steady clumps towards the front of the train. Even now, she could still physically feel the motion beneath her feet grinding to a steady halt. The squeaking of wheels against metal was unmistakable, and she raised an eyebrow.

“What’s going on?” Viola murmured.

“I don’t know. I think people are getting off.”

“Should…we get off?”

“I don’t know. Maybe get your stuff, just in case?”

Octavia had mostly been living out of her backpack for several days. One swift zip at her back took care of more or less everything. Viola was quick enough herself, and her own speed was just as necessary. Octavia watched the emptying aisles with growing discomfort, by which the concept of being left behind was becoming ever more unsettling.

She caught four disembarking passengers perplexed in their own ways, mingling with the shuffling crowd in turn. Each turned to meet her eyes as they passed the room, her own befuddlement reflected on the faces of every one. Renato shrugged aggressively. “I’m so confused,” he mouthed.

When Octavia stepped out to merge with the trailing masses, Viola clinging tightly to her hand--given that she'd reached for it, apparently--she at least had the foresight to cling to whatever straggling stranger crossed her path first. “Excuse me,” Octavia asked, “what’s going on? Why is everyone getting off?”

The man answered without hesitation, adjusting his own belongings over his shoulder. “It’s a transfer stop. We’re outside of Southern Stacata. If you’ve got somewhere else to go, you’re gonna need to switch here.”

“Where the hell are we?” Viola hissed under her breath.

“I’ve never even heard of this place,” Octavia whispered back.

She wasn’t quiet enough to avoid the man’s ears, much to her dismay. “It’s not a big town. I’m not surprised. Don’t worry, I’m sure your connection is at the station already. Where are you headed?”

“S-Solenford,” Octavia stammered.

He nodded. “Yeah, you should be fine. We’re pretty close to Solenford already.”

When she refrained from pressing further, she could only watch him depart. It left her more lost than informed, and she left every ounce of her confidence behind on the empty train. At the very least, she took Viola with her, refusing to uncurl her fingers from the girl’s hand.

He’d been serious about transferring. Somehow, it was another station entirely. For the picture that had been briefly painted, Octavia had expected significantly more trains to flank her on every side. Instead, she counted no more than three, unevenly distanced and aimed along sprawling tracks in varying directions.

Whatever mechanical whirring continued beneath her feet was more ominous than anything, the platform rumbling gently as she stole tentative steps into the cool evening air. There were no signs. There was hardly any light to begin with, for how the surrendering sun was about to leave her stranded. She was lucky to spot anyone even vaguely resembling a conductor in the first place.

It hardly mattered that she didn’t know where the train was bound for. If he held authority, then he knew more than she did by default. She nearly sprinted, Viola forced into the same in her wake. Given the sheer number of people who preceded him up the steps, the idea of losing the only guidance she could find was terrifying. Octavia refused to let him board. “Excuse me!” she called once more.

The sound of Viola panting at her back left her feeling guilty. Still, her attention was on the man alone. “Yes?”

“W-We’re trying to get to Solenford,” Octavia said, her voice crushed by pressure. “Which train is that?”

He raised an eyebrow. “It’s…the one on that platform over there. I might recommend waiting for the next one, though.”

Her face fell. “Why?”

The man grimaced. “I don’t think they were expecting passengers. It was meant to go for servicing, supposedly. It runs fine, but I guess they had to do an inspection for safety purposes after an evacuation.”

“Evacuation?”

“To my understanding, there was some kind of natural disaster a few weeks ago that required multiple trains for evacuation. Usually, they send them to be serviced and inspected afterwards to make sure they’re up to handling another one, if need be. You don’t wanna be on that thing, anyway. It’s bad luck.”

Everything was bad luck. Her entire life was bad luck. “It’ll take us to Solenford, though, right?”

He sighed. “Yes, it’ll get you there. The conductor’s already on board. Like I said, he probably wasn’t expecting passengers. I’d hurry, if I were you. You’ve got about a day’s journey ahead, not even. You should be there by dawn, actually.”

If they missed it, it wouldn’t be a massive distance. That would be by train, to be fair. They would be stranded in the middle of nowhere, to be fair. She would have absolutely no idea how to fix it, to be fair. As with so many things, that wouldn’t be new. Octavia took her chances. “Thank you!” she added hastily.

She was borderline racing in the direction he’d indicated, a train more or less unremarkable already well-prepared to depart. The rumble of the engine, even from afar, was enough to leave her heart rumbling along with it. Whatever had possessed its conductor to wait, she was eternally grateful for. Four people had come to the same conclusion long before she had, their anxiety almost radiant. With Viola in hand, she struggled to move ever faster, her boots pounding desperately against the wooden planks below.

“It’s this one, come on!” Harper called, waving her over with urgency.

“I thought you said the tickets were non-stop!” Josiah cried.

“They were non-stop!” Viola cried back, panting yet again with the effort of keeping up.

“Oh my Goood, get on the traaain,” Renato groaned, quite literally pushing at Josiah’s back as he climbed the steps. Madrigal, too, had already begun her ascent, motioning desperately for the girls to follow suit.

“Hurry!” she yelled.

The urgency wasn’t overwhelmingly necessary, in the end. They boarded with no true issues, climbing the steps nearly two at a time in the process. Even with Octavia’s stamina well-intact, Viola fared far worse, doubling over and gasping the moment she was safely inside. Octavia winced at the sight. That was largely her fault.

“I’m sorry!” she said.

Viola didn’t have the oxygen to respond. Instead, all Octavia earned was a thumbs-up. At the very least, it was enough for her to breathe a sigh of relief.

“What the hell happened?” Josiah demanded.

“I…promise you,” Viola panted, hunting for air, “they were…non-stop.”

“Where even are we?” Madrigal murmured nervously, wringing her hands together.

“Outside of a town I’ve never heard of. Southern…Stacata, I think,” Octavia tried. “We’re close to Solenford, apparently.”

“We should be there by morning,” Viola added, finally blessed with the return of sweet oxygen.

Her words were punctuated by the timely squeal of wheels against the metal rails below. Ultimately, the departure had afforded them roughly an extra three full minutes. There was no whistle, and the blaring noise Octavia had anticipated was eerily absent as the train began to steadily roll forward. The floor beneath her jostled, and she nearly lost her balance beneath the sudden movements. She caught Viola, who did lose hers.

The interior was completely silent, a horrific peace offset by ambient lighting. She could still see up the aisles without issue, for the most part. Inside, it was no different than every train she’d been on in the past. There were spaces both tight and open, crafted for rest and mingling in tandem. Contrary to the conductor’s words, there didn’t seem to be much need for maintenance--visibly, anyway. Octavia knew little of the mechanical aspects. Really, the quiet was the part that bothered her.

The subtle rumble deep below and the backdrop of clacking along metal tracks were her only two sources of salvation. At the very least, it was warm, touched by the grace of the fleeing sun in their wake. Each and every window was devoid of curtains, and that was mildly uncomfortable. There was no escaping the rising moon, battling unnatural lighting with milky glows that flooded the train in excess.

Octavia really, really didn’t enjoy the implication that they were wholly alone. The concept of being isolated on a train so far from home--Viola’s, mostly--was highly unsettling.

“We’re on our way again, I guess,” Harper muttered.

Octavia wasn’t the only one hesitant to move from the entryway, several tentative footsteps just barely poking into the aisle at her side. “Is…anyone else here?” Josiah asked quietly.

She didn’t have a solid answer. “I…don’t think so. The conductor I talked to, he said that this train wasn’t supposed to have many passengers. Any, he made it sound like.”

“But we got tickets to be here,” Madrigal said.

Octavia nodded. “I know. I don’t entirely get it, either.”

“Is there any chance we boarded the wrong train out of Coda?” Josiah tried.

“Definitely not,” Viola answered. “It was the only train going to Solenford. There’s no way.”

Josiah didn’t respond. For a moment, only the low rumble of the train marching on into the blooming night filled the gap. Alone as they were, collectively, it was all the more uncomfortable.

“You said morning, right? Should we just…sleep it off and figure it out when we get there?” Renato offered.

“I dunno, this is really creepy,” Harper murmured with a shudder. “I don’t feel particularly good about going to sleep here.”

“It’s just a train.”

“Yeah, but…this is so weird. I don’t think I can sleep, sorry.”

“To be fair, I’ve been sleeping half the time, too,” Josiah added, raising his hand. “I’ll stay up with you.”

“Honestly, I have a feeling none of us are gonna be able to get any sleep,” Octavia admitted. “I’m…rested enough. I guess if I need to take a nap, I can.”

“We can sleep in shifts,” Harper suggested.

“You suck at that.”

“What for?” Viola asked, ignoring Octavia’s quip entirely.

He winced. “I…I don’t know. Just a thought, if anyone wants to try to get some rest.”

Renato shrugged. “Screw it. Let’s just all stay up together. If I pass out, just wake me up when we get there, and don’t let anything stupid happen to me while I’m sleeping. Easy.”

Relative to whatever they’d be dealing with at SIAR, unknown as it still was, the idea of tackling it with little rest was concerning. Ideally, adrenaline would fill the void. It was the best excuse Octavia could come up with.

Adrenaline on a train was helpful, too, somewhat. It was enough to keep them going for a while. There came a point where they actually attempted to sleep in shifts, and yet fatigue was overwhelming. Satisfied with sleeping or not, the silence was unbearable. Ultimately, not one was comfortable enough to confine themselves to a formal room, and mattresses were forsaken in favor of plush booths or carpeted aisles. They were as much of a clump as their instruments, two clusters of rest drowning in the open moonlight.

Harper and Josiah really did forgo sleeping altogether, conversing in low tones and whispers well into the night. The presence of sound at all, hushed or otherwise, was enough to help Octavia sleep instead. Her one curse came in the form of the relentless moon, its abundant glow unhindered by naked windows lining the length of the car. Not one curtain so much as attempted to spare her from abundant luminosity, no matter how soft. Finding shade in the night was borderline impossible, and she was forced to crawl beneath a table at least once. She’d hit her head in the process of sitting up. That part wasn’t fun.

There came a point where sleeping was either enough altogether or simply useless, for how she was left tossing and turning on uncomfortable surfaces. It took effort to rise slowly, contributing as little noise as possible to the strangling silence. Stepping over stray limbs sprawling out into the aisle from Maestros far more comfortable was a challenge, much the same. She stretched.

“What’s up?” Josiah whispered.

“Just…can’t sleep. Gonna walk for a bit,” she whispered back.

“Take Stradivaria,” Harper reminded softly.

“Take Harper,” Josiah said.

“What?” he murmured.

“Don’t just let her walk around by herself. Go with her.”

He didn’t argue. From his seat on the windowsill, of all places, Harper dropped to the floor with the tiniest of grunts. In tandem with Octavia’s motions towards her partner, he made for Royal Orleans’ case.

“Are we going anywhere in particular?” he asked.

Octavia shook her head. “Not really. Walking when I can’t sleep makes me feel better. Just…maybe towards the front, I guess.”

He nodded. “That’s fine. Let’s try not to stay too long. The sooner this is over with, the better.”

She didn’t disagree. Stradivaria was cool in her hands, and the sensation wasn’t unpleasant as she held the instrument close. Her steps were equally as cautious as her own breaths, aimless as they were with Harper trailing close behind. She wasn’t fond of the slight difficulty that came with walking, the most fleeting tug of an uphill slope not lost on her ankles. She dismissed it as the structure of the aisle, initially. Still, it persisted, even as she grew ever more distant from the safety of the others.

“Are we going upwards, or something?” Octavia murmured aloud.

“Look outside.”

It wasn’t a particularly hard suggestion to oblige, given how every last color of the natural world was spilling into the car already. Any window would suffice, unobscured as they were, and it only took one to confirm her suspicions. Their last non-stop trip to Solenford had left them traversing flat ground alone, miniscule bumps and hills a far cry from true elevation along their path. Here, instead, she was at last granted the privilege to absorb the full majesty that was the mountains of Solenford.

With each passing second, their vessel was climbing ever higher up the rugged terrain. The vehicle was sturdy, the tracks were well-maintained, and Octavia feared little for their actual safety. It was nothing if not breathtaking, for how the spearing peaks in the distance clung to shadows beneath the generous moon. In lovelier circumstances, snow-capped alternatives would’ve been of interest. She lamented the summer sun on the opposite side of day.

“Pretty,” Octavia whispered.

“Hope you’re not afraid of heights,” Harper teased gently.

Octavia shook her head with a smile, her footsteps delicate as she crossed the threshold into another car. Even without anyone save for her companions aboard to disturb, the weight of silence was its own occupant. “I like heights, actually.”

“Are you…worried about what we’re gonna find when we get there?”

The smile she’d only just donned slipped somewhat. He was close enough for his breath to brush against her neck as he spoke--a reminder of his safe proximity that she didn’t dislike. “Not much point in me lying to you, is there?”

Harper chuckled. “You know it. It’s okay if you are. I think we’re all nervous.”

“I’m sorry for dragging you down with me.”

His hand on her shoulder made Octavia jump slightly. The atmosphere was sneaking beneath her skin more than she was willing to admit. “There’s not a single one of us who feels that way. We’re here because we want to be. Trust me, I’m dying to know who’s been messing with my family, too.”

Octavia’s every step forward was foreign, and his words were the only familiar thing she could count on as she moved up the length of the train itself. Aimless wandering was not the calming experience she hoped it would be. Her path narrowed bit by bit, and the storage cabinets hanging high overhead jutted into the aisle too sharply for comfort. Whatever was keeping her moving forward was more absentminded than voluntary, at this point. Harper had the clarity of mind to call her out on it as she neared the front cabin.

“We’re definitely going too far,” he whispered. “I think that’s enough.”

Octavia had never actually been this close to the front before. They had a singular additional occupant along for the ride, severed only by a sliding door and the responsibilities of the moonlit job. It was somehow more unsettling than it was comforting. She had no idea what it was that possessed her to raise her hand, let alone to try knocking. Harper didn’t give her the chance.

“Let him do his job,” he scolded softly, tugging at her extended wrist.

“No one else is even here. You don’t want to know why the train is empty or anything?”

Harper shook his head. “Not really, no. Like I said, this whole situation is seriously creeping me out. I don’t want to make it more uncomfortable than it already is.”

She sighed. Where she would typically have teased and pushed, she had little energy to press his boundaries. Curiosity be damned, Octavia withdrew her hand, dejected fingers returning to the cold mahogany of a violin instead. “Fine.”

Harper didn’t pull at her wrist further, loosening his delicate grip somewhat. He tilted his head in the direction from whence they’d come, a silent plea for return. Octavia wasn’t immune to casting her eyes towards the closed door regardless.

Curiosity was still preferable to languishing in the dark--or lack thereof, if the unforgiving moon had a say. For how many times she’d found herself bound to the whims of a speeding train, she’d never had the chance to actually explore one at length. It was the closest she’d come to the opportunity, even in the midst of an unsettling situation.

The soft, muffled screeching behind the door surely spoke to scraping metal beneath skilled hands, and watching them work would’ve been of interest. Her knowledge was limited to books alone, and confirming the abundance of levers and whistles would’ve been enjoyable. Counting moving parts would’ve been fun. Octavia had never so much as considered that charcoal, if that was what it was, could burn violet.

She blinked. She rubbed her eyes. She checked twice over, reinspecting the tiny gap between the sliding door and the carpeted aisle below her feet. She really, really wasn’t sure if it was supposed to be violet.

“Octavia, come on,” Harper reminded, tapping her shoulder.

“Wait a second,” Octavia whispered.

“What?”

She leaned closer to the floor, not daring to bend down. Squinting, she tilted her head, watching what she could with morbid curiosity. Tiny wisps of indigo smoke had begun drifting tenderly outwards from beyond the crevice. They didn’t climb so much as they did tickle the utmost base of the door, the most miniscule gap between the floor and the entryway clogging with translucent fog. This time, she did knock.

“Octavia!” Harper hissed, grabbing her wrist far too late.

Octavia met his eyes in silence, drawing a line downwards with her own gaze. When he followed along, he, too, squinted in turn, releasing her just as fast. It hardly mattered. There was no answer from the other side. The screeching, stifled as it was, only grew louder. She could’ve sworn the train was rocking more severely, her balance somewhat unsteady.

“Are we stopping again?” she heard Harper ask aloud.

Octavia knocked again. Nothing. She tried harder, putting more effort into her wrist. “Hello?”

Still, nothing. Her fingers crawled over the handle, poised to pull. A quick glance at Harper earned her only a wince, a far cry from the contagious confidence she’d hoped for. It took conscious willpower for her to try. There was a startling amount of resistance, and she was nearly forced to use both hands to pry the door beyond the slightest crack. With a hefty grunt, she made it roughly one-fourth of the way there, straining as she peered into the cabin.

It was pitch-black. Rather, it was pitch-violet--thick, boiling, bubbling, and as noxious as could be. It was excessive in every conceivable way. Even from a distance, its aura was overpowering. She could hardly breathe. For a moment, she didn’t.

“Shut it!” Harper screamed.

Octavia didn’t get the chance. The crevice she’d already made was enough. In seconds, there was no door. It wasn’t slow. It didn’t hesitate. It was the fastest-moving Dissonance she’d seen in weeks. It surged, a violet wave that crashed in every direction with a wailing shriek that made her ears ring fiercely. There may as well not have been a front cabin at all. In its place, she found only a cage for the most toxic substance ever to curse her life.

She scrambled for distance, Harper doing much the same as they sprinted in tandem. She didn’t dare turn around, Stradivaria jostling painfully against her neck as she struggled to raise the instrument. It was by sheer luck that the only person faster than Octavia was the one to bar her path in the slightest. His own rapid footsteps blessed her with the ample room she needed to escape the flood pressing at her back. She didn’t need to see it. She could feel it. She could hear it. No amount of playing alone was going to counter it, let alone in one shot.

“Hit it together with me!” she demanded breathlessly.

“Bend down!” Harper shouted back.

She obliged to the absolute best of her ability, nearly falling flat on her face as she skidded to a stop. She’d never played Stradivaria while crouching before, although propping herself up on one knee turned out to be somewhat supportive. She quickly understood Harper's point, Royal Orleans rising above her head as a blast of heated air besieged her scalp.

They’d played together before. She knew him. She knew his notes, and her own light tangled flawlessly with his flames. Of that, she had no concern. Octavia gritted her teeth, moving shaking fingers in time with pure adrenaline threatening to burst from her bloodstream. With it came her radiance, echoed by his own flavor of the same.

Octavia would, if nothing else, never get over how lovely their legacies worked together in unison. His spiraling fire and her blasting rays overlapped in brilliant bursts. Scarlets, golds, and every flash of incinerating supernovas imaginable exploded against false darkness. A star was born between them, erupting in the smallest of suns that raged beneath moonbeams in turn.

The contrast of the dazzling flare against the black hole of loathsome violet was enough to make her squint. Her eyes were assaulted by the sharp contrast in brightness between the two, and fighting to keep them open was a struggle. Staying balanced so low was its own challenge. Maintaining her footing on top of her current predicament was just as difficult as keeping up with Harper. Even so, Octavia didn’t back down, her speedy movements of the bow bursting with as much burning brilliance as she could muster.

Somehow, it wasn’t enough.

The desperate counterattack was enough to act at least as a deterrent, sending the churning sea of Dissonance streaming outwards and around the shining star of the two Maestros. The grotesque ocean parted, and still they did little but forge through crashing waves. Violent clouds were practically screaming as they circumvented the fiery brilliance on either side. Even forty-five full seconds later, it was still coming, speeding around them just as quickly. It was all Octavia could do to hold fast, putting the burn of her muscles consciously to the wayside as she doubled down against every string.

The onslaught didn’t cease so much as it did stem, ebbing to a steady stream that instead surged threateningly towards their ankles. The most venomous tide lapped at the carpeted aisle, and she feared coming within inches of it as it crawled towards her boots. Panting, she rose to her feet, staggering backwards until she nearly collided with Harper.

“Was that…all in the cabin?” he gasped, his search for oxygen far more desperate.

“I-I don’t know! It’s still coming!” Octavia cried.

Frantic scanning with frenzied eyes unveiled an assault not purely frontal. On several sides, cracks between crunched cabinets and crevices beyond low seating had begun to ooze with much of the same agony, a violet haze choking the air as it steadily ascended. In place of a car trapped in raging flames, it was pain incarnate that bore all the smoke she could dread.

With every terrified step in reverse, it thickened. Just the same, with every panicked breath, it grew ever more obscure until she could no longer make out the distant cabin at all. Pure, unrestrained Dissonance clogged her path in full. It was one of the most horrific sights Octavia had ever laid eyes upon.

“Why is there…so much?” Harper murmured with terror, his hands shaking.

Octavia hardly had the words to respond. Even now, she couldn’t stop staring. Their resistance had done little in the way of lasting damage, only instead wreaking havoc on their surroundings. The violence they’d inflicted on the train car itself was unfortunate, at least three of the storage cabinets that had hung aloft succumbing to her supernova.

Mostly emptied, only scattered contents had survived their inescapable inferno. Stray clothes slipped from a suitcase cursed by broken clasps. At least one backpack had remained intact, scorched and shredded as it crashed to the carpet. A tiny, singed book, tinted in the softest rosy blush, bared its flower proudly to the filthy floor alone. It was pitiful.

Octavia’s blood froze over, adrenaline challenged by the chill of dread in every conceivable pore.

“Octavia?” Harper asked anxiously, eyes full of worry as he scanned her face in turn.

Her voice was nearly inaudible. Her breath slipped from her throat as she refused to tear her eyes from the gentle pink scraping the carpet.

“This is the train that took us out of Velrose.”