Harmony

“Soon enough” came almost exactly on time.

“I missed you guys so much! I gave the merchants our stuff, and they said it tasted so good that they even paid me extra! There were like, what, six or seven bottles? And they said next time they want to double their order! I was so flattered! I’ve been waiting here for maybe an hour? But it’s okay, because the sunset is gorgeous in Coda! I mean, I know it’s the same sunset everywhere. It’s pretty in Minuevera in its own way. Minuevera has this one hill you can stand on by the river--you know which one, we were there together--and the sunset is beautiful! Maybe it’s just the atmosphere of the city that makes it better? Maybe it’s just getting to be with friends who--”

“And this,” Viola interrupted loudly, “is Vacanti Manor. And Madrigal.”

Harper waved. Madrigal sparkled.

“Wow, is he a soldier of the light too? Where did you guys get him from? It’s so nice to meet you! My name is Madrigal--the one and only Magical Madrigal--and it’s so nice to meet you! I think I already said that, though. Where’s your Harmonial Instrument? Do you wanna see mine? Oh, did Viola and Octavia already show you theirs? Where did you come from? What do you--”

“Madrigal, you have to let him breathe a bit,” Octavia interjected, waving her hands in a desperate plea for peace. “This is Harper. He saved me from a...bit of a situation earlier.”

Harper cocked his head. “Soldier of the…light?”

“You get used to it,” Viola whispered quickly.

Madrigal beamed, curtseying dramatically. “It is my pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

Harper chuckled, bowing hesitantly in return. For the fleeting glance Octavia could afford him, she was somewhat surprised at how well he was taking the Maestra’s personality.

Most of her attention ended up on the towering display of utter wealth before her, for what mental image the word “manor” had afforded her. The size was enough to make her dizzy, splendidly gated and crowned with pristine greenery. She’d half-expected a fountain and maids, given the connotations of the phrase. She almost thought to ask, jokingly or otherwise. This was disorienting enough. She was fairly certain her entire house could fit inside of this one, frankly. She was almost afraid to approach it, for how mildly intimidating it was by stature alone.

Something was around her wrist, and a giggle was in her ears. She lurched forward, stumbling somewhat as Viola tugged her onwards. “Your inner tourist is showing. Wait until you see the inside.”

The creak of the gates as the girl dragged her through was only the second-greatest contributor to Octavia’s steadily increasing heart rate. For how long it had taken to actually reach the front steps several days later, there was an anxiety that came with arrival. When she faltered, Viola caught her eyes. She smiled warmly, never slowing her own steps.

“Don’t be nervous. My grandmother will love you, just like I said,” Viola offered.

“I know, but I can’t help it,” Octavia admitted weakly. “I mean, this is someone who taught you everything you know. Meeting a master Maestra in person is a bit...intimidating, to say the least.”

“You’re not exactly alone,” Viola reassured. “I think there’s a lot she’s been keeping from me, too.”

Octavia never got the chance to ask exactly what that meant. The inside was substantially more brilliant than the outside, to the point that the opened doors left her practically flooded with radiance. It was still most definitely a manor in every sense of the word. It was elegant, pristine, plush, and enough to make her second-guess every last footstep for a different reason entirely. If she scuffed so much as one tile with her boots, she’d be obligated to scream at herself all the way back to Silver Ridge. The art was gorgeous, for how it speckled each and every wall with color juxtaposing beautifully against crisp whites. There was a lot of it. It was almost abnormal, in truth.

“What’s with all the paintings?” she asked, fumbling for an ounce of focus.

It was somewhat of a relief that Octavia wasn’t the only one in borderline awe. At least Harper wasn’t practically vibrating, nor sparkling. He was the easier of the two remaining Maestros for Viola to usher inside, and she smirked as she pulled the doors shut. “My grandfather was an art curator and collector,” Viola clarified. “He was an artist in his own right, but his collection was--is--amazing. It’s his legacy. Our whole family specializes in the business of art trading. I like to imagine we’re good at it.”

Harper raised one hand weakly, averting his eyes. “Hey, uh, is it…really okay if I’m here?”

Octavia cocked her head. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

He was quiet for a moment. “I, uh...don’t know if I’m up to standard to be here, in a place like this. If you know what I mean.”

Octavia’s heart cracked, just a bit. Viola inhaled sharply.

“Everyone is welcome here,” Viola spoke, every word slow and strained. “Backgrounds mean nothing. You don’t…have to ask that. Of course you’re welcome here.”

Harper’s soft smile was weighted, subtle as it was. It didn’t mend the cracks in Octavia’s heart in any capacity. For what little she knew about him, she didn’t dare pry. The sentiment spoke for itself enough. It still hurt.

By comparison, Madrigal had either read the room poorly or spectacularly. “Wow, you live like this? This place is huge! Look at all the artwork! These paintings are so pretty! Your family owns all of these? Can I explore? Is it okay if I look around? Where do the stairs go? Do you have a--”

“Madrigal,” Viola interrupted firmly, still not immune to a smile. “One thing at a time.”

“We did come here for a certain reason,” Octavia continued. “We should deal with that first, and then we can do everything else second.”

Semi-unsurprisingly, Madrigal’s smile was still permanent regardless. She beamed. “Whatever you say!”

Viola didn’t dwell on it--for the best, more than likely. There was zero predictability in where she was to lead them, given how many hallways and doors were visible even at a distance. They gave up on the stairs immediately, and it was hardly beside the grand staircase itself that she found what she was looking for. It was substantially less intimidating than the front doors, at least, guarded by a little doorknob in comparison. Viola led accordingly.

The inside was a stark contrast to the pristine environment that had blinded Octavia moments ago, and it was more than welcome. She still feared scuffing the carpet just as much. For how sharply the shift in flooring materials had occurred just beyond the threshold, she nearly tripped. The warmth was a solid compensation.

“Different atmosphere,” Octavia murmured aloud.

Viola nodded. “Less overwhelming, hopefully.”

Octavia followed in her footsteps cautiously, still somewhat self-conscious in regards to her presence inside such an elaborate abode overall. Her wandering eyes caught photographs nestled between yet more works of art, sporadic by comparison. She recognized the sweet blue bow at every opportunity, crowning such a little head as it was.

The girl was more than happy, and the man who embraced her time and time again smothered her with affection seeping through every frame. Octavia couldn’t decide whether to smile along with him or battle to keep her heart from sinking out of reach. She tried not to stare. She failed.

Viola’s voice outright startled her, given how long she’d been fixated. “Grandmother, are you in here?”

She got her answer quickly enough, soft or otherwise. “Viola, is that you? I…hadn’t expected you back so soon. Is everything alright?”

Viola nodded to no one. “I’m fine, I promise.”

“Did you find anyone?”

“I did, actually,” Viola answered, her voice tinted with just a hint of pride.

For how long it took Octavia to find the woman in the first place, unhurried as her presentation was from afar, their eyes met just as slowly. Octavia blinked first. The smile she found was as reassuring as it was, still, unfortunately intimidating. It shouldn’t have been, logically. It was involuntary.

“And who might you be?” the woman asked calmly, her voice every bit as soft as that smile.

“O-Octavia, ma’am,” she stammered.

Still, the woman was satisfied. “What a lovely name.”

The fireplace did her justice, for how her age had afforded her elegance all the same. In a way, she was lovely, albeit somewhat blighted by the natural passage of time. She didn’t resemble Viola quite as much as Octavia had expected. It hardly mattered, given that what they did share had led her to this very room. In the presence of a former Maestra, steeped in expertise as she was, Octavia gulped nervously. She second-guessed her introduction. She third-guessed it. The cat was distracting.

She’d forgotten Viola had a cat in the first place, fleetingly mentioned as it had been. The fluff brushing against her legs made her jump, and she stifled a yelp. It was enough to get a soft giggle out of Viola, and somewhat enough to ease her nerves.

“Oh my Goood, there’s a kitty!”

It was more than enough for Madrigal, unsurprisingly.

The Maestra practically dove onto the floor accordingly, quite literally splaying out onto the rug and reaching for the mewing ball of fluff with desperately-opened arms. She got what she wanted quickly, purring and all. Her delighted giggling was almost contagious, and she nuzzled the animal again and again. They were absolutely here for a reason. Octavia was not going to be the one to remind her, elated as she was. She smiled.

Viola seemed more embarrassed, by comparison. “I brought more than one, actually,” she clarified regardless.

The woman laughed. “Not at all a bad thing, my love. You’ve made some quite lively friends.”

The woman turned to Octavia once more, settling one hand over her heart. “I’m Viola’s grandmother. You can call me Eleanor, if you’d like, dear.”

Octavia nodded quickly, battling the slightest resurgence of nerves. “U-Uh, right. Thank you, miss, uh, Eleanor, ma’am.”

“And who is this handsome young man?” she continued, her eyes drifting slightly to the left.

Harper extended one hand without hesitation. “I’m Harper. It’s nice to meet you, ma’am.”

Her bright smile coupled well with the tender touch she offered him. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, then, Harper.”

The woman’s eyes fell to the floor last--ironic, given the sheer amount of energy that rested at her feet. Madrigal was literally on her back, her arms more than occupied.

“She’s purring,” the Maestra declared, beaming.

“Little Peony certainly seems fond of you, my dear. What might your name be?” the woman asked softly.

Madrigal took the cat with her all the way up, staggering and wobbling in the process as she battled for her balance. It was almost impressive. With the content ball of fluff still nestled snugly in her arms, her brilliant smile was endless. “My name is Madrigal, ma’am! I’m Madrigal Talludo, from the Talludo Inn in Minuevera.”

It was a shorter introduction than usual. Octavia almost felt bad for being thankful.

“Minuevera? That’s a bit of a walk from here, isn’t it?” Eleanor mused.

“Harper is from here in the capital, but Octavia is all the way from Silver Ridge,” Viola clarified.

At the mention of the town, her eyes widened in the absolute slightest. “Is that so? You went all the way to Silver Ridge, my love?”

Viola nodded. “I had a…feeling. It turns out I was right. The other two just happened to be at the right place and at the right time.”

“Sit, everyone, please. I have so many questions for you all,” Eleanor urged, gesturing to the sofa accordingly.

For how Madrigal continued to attend to the comfortable animal in her lap, Octavia finally heard the purring. She stifled a smirk. “We, uh, we have a lot we wanted to ask you, too, ma’am,” Octavia admitted.

“We can trade, then, I’m sure,” Eleanor offered with the same soft smile Octavia was growing to appreciate. “Actually, before you get settled, there’s…one thing I’d like to do first, if it’s alright with all of you.”

Octavia blinked. When the woman extended one hand to Harper, he did the same. It took him a moment to return her touch, rising to his feet and submitting to her urging without protest. She drew him close, and he found himself not too far from her own seat.

She didn’t exactly stare him down, and yet her soft eyes pinned him all the same. So near to the boy, his discomfort was radiant, and Octavia watched him stiffen beneath her untraceable scrutiny. It was enough even for her to tense in turn. She observed him for just long enough that the silent interaction grew uncomfortable. Just as she’d found the urge to inquire as to the woman’s behavior, she earned reprieve.

Her warm smile was far more welcome, and she freed him from her gaze and grip at last. “You’ve got the will of fire in you, my boy.”

For how Octavia’s own eyes widened greatly, Harper’s reaction was identical. “Did…you say fire?” he asked incredulously.

“A strong fire that burns brightly for others, determined and resilient,” she answered, beaming. “I imagine you’re a blessing to those who need you most.”

The look of absolute shock he shot at Octavia was useless, given that she was mired in the exact same. Her eyes darted between the two in utter confusion. “H-How did you--”

“You’re next, miss,” Eleanor continued nonchalantly, offering her hand once more.

Madrigal’s only hesitation came in the form of losing the cat, the little animal calmly dropping from her lap down onto the plush carpet instead. She took the woman’s hand unflinchingly in both of her own with a brilliant smile. So, too, did she stomach the same extensive inspection with silent grace, not an ounce of anxiety or insecurity dripping from the Maestra in the process. Even if the smile the woman could return paled next to such luminosity, they were still lovely side by side.

“You possess a spirit of wind, my dear,” Madrigal was offered at last. “You are unbound and free, never to be tied down to the earth. Do you follow where life leads you, then, unfamiliar as it may be?”

Madrigal was practically sparkling beneath her words. “I try!”

The moment the exuberant Maestra had resettled onto the couch beside her, the gentle touch that beckoned was for Octavia alone. Her heart skipped a beat. For a moment, she didn’t move.

“Don’t be shy, dear,” Eleanor reassured.

Octavia rose to her feet somewhat shakily, surrendering her hand where it was requested. She tried not to tremble beneath the same inquisitive gaze, soft and piercing all at once. She could’ve sworn it was taking longer than the others. It made the wait far worse, and the urge to retract eye contact was overpowering. She nearly did. When the eyes that held her in place widened themselves, she flinched. Still, they were once again delicate just as quickly, accompanied by a soft smile in the wake of unbearable silence.

“A heart of light,” Eleanor spoke quietly. “A rare one.”

Octavia nearly stumbled the moment she was released from the woman’s grasp. “A heart of…light?”

The woman nodded, her tangled fingers coming to rest calmly in her lap. “A heart of light, filled with love meant to shine upon others. A ray of hope, courageous and radiant. You will surely be a gift to those you cherish.”

Her hand fell to her heart before she’d noticed, absentminded as the gesture was.

Eleanor beamed. “You will surely be a wonderful Maestra, too.”

“Excuse me, ma’am,” Harper asked, raising one hand hesitantly. “How do you know about our...uh, about us?”

“I’ve learned a few things in my time. Even so, there’s a few secrets I still hope to keep these days,” she answered playfully.

Octavia settled into her seat once more, releasing a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding at all. “You were a Maestra, right? Before Viola was?”

Eleanor nodded. “I was, many years ago. Still, my time has since passed, and a new Maestra has taken my place.”

Viola, settled across the room as she was, glowed with pride to rival the fireplace. Octavia gave her a smile and received one right back.

“And now a new generation of Maestros and Maestras sits here before me,” she continued. “How lucky I am to witness them, even now.”

“W-We would be honored if you’d teach us what you know, Miss Eleanor,” Octavia half-pleaded, quite literally sitting on the edge of her seat.

Eleanor laughed. “I’m sure Viola has taught you much already. You’ll not soon find a better teacher.”

“But you didn’t teach me everything,” Viola interrupted. “I know you’re holding out on me.”

Eleanor paused for a moment. “Then how about this? Miss Octavia, why don’t you tell me everything that you’ve learned thus far? I’ll fill in the gaps as you go.”

Octavia blinked. “Me?”

The woman nodded. “Yes, you, dear. Tell me what you’ve gathered about Maestros and Maestras from your travels with my beloved Viola.”

She stiffened. The four sets of eyes that fell to her brought an entirely new flavor of anxiety along with them, and she winced. At least the cat wasn’t staring at her. She shut her eyes, running down a mental list that started with snowflakes on her bedsheets.

“Maestros and Maestras,” she began nervously, “are special people with special instruments. Harmonial Instruments, with markings on the back of them--”

“Harmonial Crests,” Viola whispered harshly.

“Harmonial Crests,” she added, rolling her eyes behind their lids. “Harmonial Instruments are tied to their specific Maestro or Maestra, and can’t be used by anyone else. All of them have a special connection to their Harmonial Instrument, and they know its name, and...stuff.”

“And stuff?” Harper asked beside her.

Octavia blushed. This was his first time hearing the details of the Maestro world in full, and she was already doing a phenomenal job of ruining it. “Listen, I never quite understood that part.”

“You’re doing great,” Eleanor reassured softly. “Harmonial Instruments have a special connection to their owners that can’t be severed. For as long as you can play, your Harmonial Instrument will respond to your soul and your soul alone. Your instrument is alive, in a way, with a soul of its own.”

“As long as you can play?” Madrigal asked in Octavia’s stead.

Eleanor nodded sadly. “I can’t quite play a flute like I used to, at this age. When the time came, my partner went silent. Imagine my surprise when my partner told me that none other than my sweet granddaughter would be the one.”

Viola nodded in agreement, beaming with pride. “On my twelfth birthday, grandmother gave me her Harmonial Instrument. That day, she told me everything about what it meant to be a Maestra--almost everything, I mean. Silver Brevada didn’t actually talk to me, necessarily, but I still felt a connection with it in my heart.”

“So Harmonial Instruments have had other owners before,” Harper murmured.

Eleanor nodded once more. “Harmonial Instruments are as mysterious as they are powerful. No one knows their origins for sure. Still, they’ll appear before their chosen Maestro when they feel the time is right, in the way they feel is best.”

“I found mine washed up on the riverbed!” Madrigal exclaimed excitedly.

“And I found mine in the…I found it somewhere it probably wasn’t supposed to be,” Harper added, trailing off quickly.

Octavia’s eyes fell to the hands resting in her lap. “For weeks, I had dreams every night about a chest in the woods. When I followed the path I saw, it was there. I know who its last Maestra was, though, and that’s…why I’m here.”

The woman’s smile faltered, somewhat. Octavia took as deep a breath as was possible.

“My sister, Priscilla, went missing. She was an amazing musician, and she was an incredible violinist. I never understood how she played so perfectly. Five years ago, she told us she was leaving for a concert. She didn’t say where, and she didn’t say how long she’d be gone, but she never came back after. We don’t know what happened to her. Now, suddenly, I find that chest out in the woods. Her violin is in there, safe and sound, but she’s nowhere to be seen. I don’t know why me, and I don’t know why now.”

Octavia raised her head, her eyes touching upon Eleanor’s own. “Please, I need to know what happened to her. Her name is Priscilla Ellis. Do you know her?”

For how brief the nonverbal exchange truly was, it felt far longer. When the woman finally shook her head slowly, Octavia’s heart sank and her stomach lurched. It wasn’t at all that voyaging so far was useless, given all she’d found in the process. It still burned fiercely, and part of her wanted to cry.

“I don’t know your sister. For that, I’m sorry,” Eleanor spoke. “Still, you’re in the company of someone who does.”

Octavia blinked, battling the tears that threatened to swell behind her pupils. “Who?”

When one raised finger fell to Stradivaria’s case, snugly settled onto her shoulders even now, it came with a smile. “Your partner, of course.”

Octavia followed the woman’s gaze over her own shoulder, touching the rugged material with two absentminded fingertips. “I don’t…understand.”

Eleanor was unwavering. “Your sister’s partner is right here beside you, and it has perhaps seen all that she has. There’s a reason it chose you now, and it knows more than I ever will. You’ve made a powerful ally in your quest, and you will surely find her if you two are together.”

Octavia’s breath snagged in her throat. For what overwhelming sensations and consequences had accompanied every moment since the violin had graced her hands, she’d never properly considered the weight of its presence at all. Priscilla had hardly ever parted from the instrument in her waking moments, if memory served. It was to say nothing of Stradivaria’s soul, if the assertion was more than whimsical.

She chanced a look over her shoulder at least twice more, somewhere between disbelief and heart-pounding contemplation. She clung to the idea. She burned it into her heart, right where it was needed most.

“That violin is the key that connects you and your sister,” Eleanor continued. “Use it well.”

Octavia nodded slowly and silently. It was Madrigal who shattered the quiet, albeit with a calm that was somewhat jarring.

“I have a question,” she asked with surprising coolness, raising one hand politely. “The blackish-purple stuff. The forces of darkness. Can you tell us a little bit more about it?”

Eleanor nodded in understanding--although her perplexed expression in the face of Madrigal’s phrasing was not lost on Octavia. “The Dissonance, then. Even now, I hesitate to think about it. If you children have ever been cursed to witness it, I sincerely apologize.”

“What’s the...Dissonance?” Harper asked tentatively. In truth, Octavia wished he’d never need to find out.

The solemn look that settled onto Eleanor’s face was in stark contrast to the warmth of moments before. “As I’ve told Viola, Dissonance is humanity’s agony given form. It is a horrific amalgamation of anguish and despair, too volatile to take shape. Unseen by normal eyes, it is a natural consequence of this world, forever lingering among us all.”

Octavia’s blood froze over. Viola hadn’t told her that part. “It’s been here this whole time?”

Viola looked away, dodging Octavia’s attempts to meet her gaze. Her avoidance spoke more than words probably could.

“Indeed, Dissonance is ever-present,” Eleanor went on. “It cannot be stopped by mortal means, and it cannot be reasoned with. It is as intangible as love or anger.”

“But we can see it,” Octavia said. “It’s like smoke, or…fog. We can even hear it.”

“Only those blessed with the company of a Harmonial Instrument can witness it in a physical form, shapeless as it may be. Of course, that would mean only those with the aid of a Harmonial Instrument can strike it down,” she finished.

“There are ways to sense the presence of Dissonance,” Viola continued in the woman’s stead, counting on her fingers one by one. “First, there’s the screeching noise. Even if a normal person can’t see Dissonance, they can still hear it. Their ears start ringing and they start hearing screeching sounds they can’t describe.”

Octavia nodded. It was an experience she wished she couldn’t empathize with.

The Maestra counted further. “Second, there are…physical symptoms, kind of like a disease. Exposure to Dissonance causes fatigue, nausea, and dizziness, among other things. Third, people exposed to Dissonance often develop thoughts of hurting or killing themselves--provided the Dissonance itself doesn’t take care of that first.”

The moment she remembered the riverbed in Minuevera, Octavia’s stomach lurched. Everything clicked, the man’s suspected intentions most of all. She felt sick. She struggled to focus.

“Finally,” Viola went on, “there’s the...opposite. If a person is particularly susceptible to Dissonance, they can even lose themselves in its presence. We call these people ‘Dissonant’. To be Dissonant is to be…infected with Dissonance, in a way. Dissonant people act out of sheer hatred and destructive urges, and will go after themselves or others until they’re...stopped.”

Octavia wasn’t immune to the shadow that crossed Viola’s face for a moment. The puzzle pieces of her paternal situation had clicked neatly into place some time ago. It still broke Octavia’s heart to witness.

“And…nobody ever notices that anything’s wrong? The nausea, the dizziness, anything?” Harper asked once more.

Viola shook her head. “Even if they see a doctor, no matter how much they’re tested, nothing will ever be visibly wrong. It’ll look like it’s all in their head.”

“And that just makes them feel even more alone,” Madrigal spoke sadly. Anything short of a smile on her face was deeply unsettling.

“And that’s why it’s the responsibility of Maestros and Maestras to free them from their suffering, by which they might regain their senses,” Eleanor added. “Still, it takes a skilled hand and a special soul to heal a Dissonant person.”

Octavia’s eyes drifted towards Madrigal, her thoughts drifting in tandem. “Madrigal, that night on the riverbed, with that…man. How did you know what to do?”

Madrigal’s soft smile was much more appreciated. “Lyra told me what to do--the first time, and the second time, and every time I needed to. When I need her help, it’s like she takes my hands.”

Eleanor’s smile was just as soft. “What is your Harmonial Instrument, dear?”

“It’s a harp!” she answered proudly, patting the bag nestled comfortably against her side. “The first time I ever saw the darkness, I was really scared, but Lyra showed me how to fight back. She showed me how to help people, too. When there’s trouble, I can always count on her. I know she’ll always be there for me.”

Eleanor’s eyes fell to the instrument unseen, obscured beneath the fabric of the little bag as it was. “Your bond is surely a special one, child. It is a blessing that you two have one another.”

“We wouldn’t have been in trouble if I was closer to Silver Brevada, then? Is that it?”

Viola’s narrowed eyes offset Madrigal’s prideful beaming. Octavia flinched. Eleanor nearly did the same.

Eleanor shook her head. “No, my dear, that’s…not what I meant to imply. To remove the Dissonance from within a human soul is highly difficult for any Maestro to do alone. Normally, it would take rigorous training--”

“I’ve trained rigorously, grandmother, every single day! I practice until my fingers bleed and my hands are covered in blisters, and I still can’t save a single person! I thought Silver Brevada and I were on good terms. I thought I was a decent Maestra--a good one, even, and yet if another Dissonant person crosses my path, all I’ll be able to do is grant them a quick death! Is that all just because my relationship with my instrument isn’t ‘special’ enough?” she snapped, her voice steadily rising.

“Viola, love, that isn’t--”

“So what, is there something wrong with my soul? Is a 'soul of ice' weaker than a spirit of wind? Is that how that works? Am I too frigid to be a healer? It sure as hell didn’t stop you from saving father, did it?”

“Viola--”

“So it has nothing to do with training or effort or whatever like you said? You can just wake up and be a good Maestra one day? You can just…treat everything like a game and pretend to be a hero, and that’s somehow enough to save someone’s life? Is that what I need to do? Make everything serious into a joke? And maybe, magically, my instrument will do everything for me? Is it that easy?”

“I’m sorry.”

Madrigal’s shaky murmur was barely within earshot, a gaze meant for sparkles now pooling with tears. Viola froze the moment they met her own, her eyes wide and plagued by a tint of guilt in turn. For how Octavia watched one foot slide slightly behind her, she had half a mind to wonder if the girl was going to bolt. She stood her ground, surprisingly, even if the strain that crossed her face threatened to split her in half.

“I didn’t mean it,” Viola murmured back. “I just...it’s...personal.”

The silence that followed was abysmal, with only the soft crackles beyond the fireplace to fill the gaps. Octavia’s fingers settled over Madrigal’s own, deathly still to a degree that unnerved her. She squeezed, receiving nothing in return. Harper’s initiative to speak at last was equal parts bold and startling.

“Miss Eleanor, where does the Dissonance come from?” he asked, his voice notably quiet.

To her credit, Eleanor was undeterred. “Dissonance is born from bad memories. It flocks to places of tragedy and suffering. Be warned, though, that it takes a powerful memory to give birth to Dissonance. A simple bitter experience will not do.”

“Is there a…way to get rid of it? Like, completely?” Octavia asked hesitantly, somewhat fearful of the answer to follow.

“There is.”

Viola’s tone was sharp and dark, painted with something unlike that of her prior ire.

Eleanor shook her head. “There isn’t--”

“There will be,” Viola interrupted. “I’ll find a way.”

“My love,” Eleanor began with a sigh, “we’ve…discussed this. The world cannot be rid of a natural force. Dissonance is a given part of life, just as the Harmonial Instruments are a sacred blessing unto this world.”

“Then I’ll find a way to get rid of it,” Viola spoke harshly. “I refuse to believe something that awful could ever be natural. Something had to make it that way, just like how something had to make Harmonial Instruments.”

Eleanor shook her head. “Even I don’t know where the Harmonial Instruments came from, or for how long Dissonance has inhabited this world. As it stands, only the instruments themselves could tell their tales.”

“No one knows anything about them?” Octavia asked. “That…can’t be right. Maestros and Maestras all over the world, and no one else knows a thing?”

“I’m afraid much of that information has been lost to time, dear,” Eleanor answered sadly. “The world of Maestros and Maestras is a secretive one, hidden away from those who would compromise its sanctity. Take pride in your identity as a Maestra, but guard that secret with your life.”

“Who would ever want to hurt a Maestra?” Octavia asked, perplexed. “What would they gain from--”

“Power,” Harper interjected suddenly. “Fortune. Maybe.”

When Octavia’s eyes flickered to him, his gaze was almost distant. She tilted her head and nudged his shoulder. “What are you thinking about?”

He shrugged. “This might be a bit of a stretch, but I highly doubt that there isn’t a single other person in this world who doesn’t know something. If this power is as special as you say, there must be others who know how important it is. People who know the truth, the details, all that.”

Eleanor paused. “It’s very true that I don’t hold all the answers to the mysteries of the Maestro world. I was born and raised in the capital, as was my mother before me.”

“Did your mother teach you how to be a Maestra?” Madrigal asked quietly. Hearing her speak again, quiet or otherwise, was nice.

Eleanor nodded. “She taught me all that I know, as did her mother to her. Ours is a proud lineage of Maestras, each with the same partner, passed down through time.”

Viola opened her mouth, and yet closed it just as quickly. Harper continued in her stead.

“So then there were generations before you who knew about Maestros and Maestras. If that’s true, there’s no way that there’s no one else in the world without a similar situation. There’s other people who know more about…all this,” he spoke, gesturing freely to nothing in particular. “I’m sure of it.”

“Maybe your sister knew something,” Madrigal offered calmly, tapping Octavia’s shoulder.

Her words were nearly lethal, given the way Octavia’s heart skipped far too many consecutive beats. “You think my sister disappeared because of Maestra stuff?”

“It makes sense,” Viola added. “It wouldn’t be a stretch to say she knew more than we do. She disappeared under awfully mysterious circumstances.”

“Then it seems,” Eleanor added, “that your sister may be another great mystery of the Maestro world, as well.”

Once more, her hand was upon Stradivaria’s case. It was instinctive.

“If the knowledge of Maestros and Maestras stretches back that far, it’s reasonable to say that all of this had to start from somewhere,” Harper continued. “Maestros had to start from somewhere, right? And if they started from somewhere, the Dissonance had to start from somewhere, too.”

“And if it started from somewhere, then it isn’t eternal,” Viola breathed.

“And maybe it can be stopped,” Madrigal added hesitantly.

“Viola,” Eleanor began, her words slowing the moment her eyes found Viola’s pained expression. “You know I will always put my faith in you as an advocate for the truth. Just...please, don’t get your hopes up so high that you hurt yourself instead. Be prepared for the worst.”

“I’ve already seen the worst,” she muttered. “And I never want to see it again.”

“Either way,” Harper continued, “this all starts with us learning more about Maestros, I’d guess. We won’t get anywhere if we don’t start looking into stuff ourselves.”

Octavia’s eyes fell to him, and she clung to his every word. “Do you have something in mind?”

“I had a feeling as soon as you said there might be people that are interested in Maestro stuff from the outside. Coda’s kind of a…questionable place at night, and people around here talk a lot. Honestly, way too much. It wouldn’t be too much of a stretch to assume someone else around here knows something about Maestros.”

“Isn’t it lucky that we all found each other?” Madrigal added. “One Maestra from Silver Ridge, one from Minuevera, and two from the capital--with another retired Maestra there, too.”

Viola nodded. “Very lucky, and that only covers a really small part of Mezzoria. Mathematically, if this many Maestros and Maestras are in such a specific area, there should be plenty of others covering the continent. I refuse to believe we’re alone.”

Technically, their explosive experience in the forest would’ve made five. Octavia declined to start a problem by pointing it out, for whatever could’ve possibly left Viola’s mouth afterwards.

“Still, where do we even start?” Octavia asked. “I don’t know anything about Coda, so I’m admittedly not much help here anyway.”

Harper tilted his head. “I’ve got one idea, but it might be a little convoluted.”

“We’re listening,” Madrigal said with a smile.

He crossed his arms. “There’s an event scheduled to happen at the auction house here in Coda tonight. Music-themed, for whatever reason. I think they kind of rotate themes or something, I don’t know. Either way, it’s gotten a little bit of attention from people with…interests, so to speak, that makes me a bit suspicious.”

Octavia recognized the term, bitterly spoken as it was. It took effort to remember the names at all. She more or less guessed. “Holly and Ivy?”

Harper nodded, the confusion gifted to the remaining Maestras notwithstanding. “I’ve never been to one of the auctions myself, but they’re pretty well-attended, from what I’m aware. Rich people tend to end up there and start exchanging stuff from all over the place. If there’s a sizable interest in things related to musical instruments, maybe we can find something Maestro-related?”

“That…is a pretty big reach, if I’m being honest,” Viola scoffed. “Just because it’s music-related doesn’t necessarily mean we’ll find anything. Our luck so far has been good, but not that good.”

He shrugged. “I tried.”

“But it’s better than nothing,” Octavia argued. “Any lead is better than no leads. Even if we don’t find out anything, we’ll still have at least gotten to try. We...don't exactly have anything else to go off of right now.”

For the brief moment that her eyes flickered to the woman long since excluded from the conversation, the soft smile she found once more was warm. She appreciated it, and she returned it as best as she could. She made a mental note to offer her gratitude verbally, later, just the same.

“Well, suppose we did actually try this," Viola continued, every word splashed with skepticism. "What time does the auction start? This is…really short notice.”

“Nine o’clock,” Harper stated plainly. “We’ve got time.”

“With what credentials? How would we even get in?”

“We have a Vacanti with us. You said your family specializes in art stuff, right? And you’re, you know…affluent,” he tried with another shrug. “Isn’t that enough of a credential?”

“M-Me?” Viola stammered. “I’ve never been to an auction in my life. My father was responsible for all of the art trading in our family, but he never brought me along.”

“That’s even better,” Octavia added. “If you can bring something with us to contribute, it might make it even easier to get in.”

Viola paused for a moment, settling her cheek into one hand comfortably. “We don’t exactly have any shortage of art around here. Maybe something music-themed would work, if we’re really going all out on this.”

“What are we gonna wear?” Madrigal asked with a soft tilt of her head.

Octavia blinked. She hadn’t exactly brought along anything formal, nor did she own anything in the first place. If the general presentation of at least two of her three newest companions was anything to go by, comfort largely took priority over elegance. It was nearly reassuring. Attending in her regular clothes didn’t seem so severe on a personal level. She doubted Viola would agree, given how little Octavia knew of Coda as it was.

“That won’t be an issue,” Eleanor offered, her soft voice still just as startling and sudden. “We have plenty of formal clothes here in just about every size. You’re all welcome to take whatever you need.”

Viola nodded. “Octavia, you and I wear the same size, and we can find something in my mother’s old closet for Madrigal. There’s bound to be something small enough.”

Harper raised one hand with a nervous chuckle to match. “You, uh, wouldn’t happen to have anything for guys, would you?”

Eleanor smiled. “But of course, dear. I’ve saved each and every suit my sweet Vincent has ever worn. He’s far too big for them now, of course, but a mother has trouble letting go of certain memories.”

“Not like he needs a suit where he is now,” Viola muttered bitterly.

Harper returned the woman’s smile. “Thank you, ma’am. I promise I’ll bring it back in good shape.”

Viola rose from her seat, clapping her hands together somewhat dramatically. “Alright, this plan is a hot mess, but it’s apparently all we’ve got, and it’s better than sitting around debating. I’ll go to the basement and get the art, you three get cleaned up, and we’ll…figure this out as we go, I guess.”

Madrigal’s smile as she rose to her feet in turn came independent of her usual vigor. It was enough for Octavia’s eyes to trail her just a bit too long, and it took conscious effort to remember her promise of gratitude. She did what she could to focus on granting her thanks, instead, peeling her gaze away from the Maestra as best as she could.

“Miss Eleanor, I can’t possibly thank you enough for meeting us,” Octavia offered instead.

Eleanor beamed. “It was my pleasure, dear. To see the next generation of young Maestros and Maestras thriving is enough reward for a lifetime. All I ask in return is that you take care of my Viola.”

Octavia nodded resolutely. “I’ll make sure she’s safe, I promise.”

“I know you will,” the woman assured. “Your light is meant to guide.”

She brushed her fingers against the cat one last time on the way out, at least. It was largely in tandem with Harper that she departed the cozy room, for how the Maestras ahead of her had already begun the process of ascending the grand staircase she’d nearly forgotten about. Even once more surrounded by clean and pristine whites, it was somewhat less imposing with two Maestras scaling its tall steps. Neither did so with notable energy, and she followed their steps with a nagging discomfort. It blunted the overwhelming aura of the vast manor at large, still scathingly unexplored and amplifying her every motion with an unfortunate echo.

“That reminds me,” Octavia said, “I’ve been meaning to ask about this auction thing. What made you think it might’ve been a lead? Besides the obvious.”

Harper sighed, lowering his voice somewhat. “I wasn’t lying about everything I said. It really does all make sense, even though I agree it could definitely be a reach. Still, Holly and Ivy are loud, annoying, brazen, and all-around bad influences. I wasn’t going to admit to it in there, but I’ve never once seen them get involved with anything that didn’t end up with something ridiculous attached to it. Domino’s actually the one who tipped me off to this whole thing even happening, and he heard about it from them. If they knew about it in the first place, it probably comes with something of merit.”

She blinked. “What does that mean?”

“They are literally magnets for unsavory people,” he answered bluntly. “I’m convinced it’s intentional at this point. They’re always chasing whatever they think will get them somewhere profitable. If this is what they’ve got their sights set on, it’s at least worth looking over their shoulders at--not that I really want to follow them in any capacity. I don’t exactly know what goes on at these kinds of events, anyway.”

“Where there’s smoke, there’s fire,” Octavia murmured.

“Exactly. Unfortunately.”

“You…seem to know a lot about them. Do you guys know each other personally?”

Harper’s face crumbled in what she could only presume to be absolute disgust. “God, you have no idea how badly I want to say no. We’re not exactly well-acquainted, but we most definitely are not on good terms. That’s putting it nicely. We’ve got different…ideologies. Not sure how else to word it. It’s worse because they’re convinced I’m intentionally trying to screw with their income.”

Octavia smirked. “By which you mean keeping Domino in line?”

“By which I very much mean keeping Domino in line, and away from them,” he groaned. “It goes a bit deeper than that, but you’ll see what I mean in a bit.”

“In a bit?”

He sighed once more. “They’ll be at that damn auction. I’d stake my life on it. They flock to wealthy shiny stuff like moths to a flame. You’ll be able to hear them from across the room.”

Octavia fidgeted quietly. “Do you think we might be in too deep with this whole thing?”

His grin was appreciated, mildly sarcastic as it was. “We were in too deep the second you told me about magic violins and trumpets.”

She found a smile in return. At the very least, she wouldn’t be in too deep alone.