Objectively, she had to stop to allow him to breathe. She wasn’t immune to doing the same. She was grateful for the rest she’d stolen--tearfully--at the foot of the steps, for how she now took every one with equal parts panic and burning curiosity. Octavia sympathized with his plight, given the apocalypse Josiah had fled moments before. It didn’t stop her from prying, labored breaths or not.
“Talk,” she demanded, Stradivaria’s case slamming against her back with every frantic step. “What the hell happened down there?”
Josiah reciprocated calmly enough, never once shirking her pointed inquiries. “They took her back, but I don’t know what happened after that,” he panted. “They told me to get my stuff and leave. They said that I couldn’t stay in the church anymore. Octavia, they told me if I ever went near her again, they’d kill me.”
Octavia had gotten the same general impression, for how she’d seen him spoken to. It made the confirmation no less chilling. “Then what?” she pressed.
“I was still outside around an hour or so later. I wanted to wait for a while before I went back to the church. I was going to convince them it really was my idea, or explain why they needed to let me stay, or something. I heard this…awful noise, I can’t describe it. It was almost like something was screaming. Everyone around me started acting strange. It was so loud that I couldn’t stand it. There was this huge cloud of smoke behind me, and I just started running. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“It’s Dissonance,” Octavia clarified.
“I know,” Josiah answered plainly. “I know. Selena explained it to me at one point. I’ve just…never actually seen it before.”
“You live in Velpyre and you’ve never seen Dissonance?” Octavia asked, trying and failing to stem the slightest tint of sarcasm.
“Never. I always hear about how it gets out, though, so I know Selena sees it.”
“So you ran up here?”
“I wanted to go back for Selena, but I couldn’t see anything. It took up the entire sky--or, you know what I mean. People were getting caught in it one after another. It came over the whole city. There was this…horrible pressure in the air, and I felt like I was going to suffocate. I really, truly believe that if I ended up in there, I would’ve died. I had nowhere else to go but up.”
“Did you know it was her?” Octavia asked bluntly.
“What do you mean?”
The top steps were visible. It still left more necessary effort, and they ran with all they had. “Do you know what ‘Dissonant’ means?” Octavia tried.
“I know that, too, but I didn’t even think about it. It didn’t even cross my mind until just now, when I…actually saw her.”
Octavia was quiet for a moment. “Are there other people who made it out somehow?”
He was silent.
“Josiah? Who else got out?” she pressed.
“Nobody.”
Octavia recoiled. “What do you mean ‘nobody’?”
“Nobody else got out,” he repeated quietly. “Not that I know of. No one moved, no one ran, no one did anything. They just stood there. I don’t think anyone even saw the damn Dissonance.”
She didn’t bother to ask what had become of those left below. She could infer, as sickening as the thought was. She doubled over at the top of the stairs, gasping for air as her hands clasped her knees. Josiah did much the same at her side, swallowing oxygen with equal desperation. Just minutes prior, she’d feared venturing into the heart of the church. Now, she couldn’t imagine doing more than shunning the flame below. The hinges of the door were loose. It was a miracle it was intact at all, for what force had surely erupted past.
“Josiah,” she spoke after a moment. “You’re not a Maestro, right?”
He shook his head. “No, I’m not.”
“You’re sure?”
“What do you mean? I promise you, I’m sure. I’m pretty sure that’s something I’d know. Why?” he asked.
It was Octavia’s turn to shake her head. “Just…wondering.”
“What do we do now?”
Octavia laid one palm flat against the compromised door, hesitant as she was to push. “We need to find the others, and we need to do it fast.”
Josiah didn’t question her. His footsteps were locked into sync with hers as she found the strength to move, bursting beyond the staircase and stumbling into the church. It was the same above as she’d remembered it. For how she’d only been sealed in the Cursed City for so short a time, it felt eternal. In that manner, she could empathize somewhat with Selena.
The wisps were different, foggy and familiarly-tinted as they were. They kissed the carpet casually, trailing the corners and cursing the walls. Even now, in the wake of her hurried sprint, they could do little more than fizzle and drift at her feet. Not one went beyond grazing her boots, and she stomped over several pitiful smoky puffs outright. They didn’t scream nor screech, not daring to so much as writhe. Under no circumstances was this all that remained. For what true Hell had been unleashed, she was terrified to discover where it had ended up.
To curb her racing thoughts was agonizing. The safety of her companions took priority, wherever they were, and all else would wait. So shortly after came the safety of others, born of the blossom and the flame alike. Of those above, she could imagine the risk. Of those below, she couldn’t fathom the consequences. It spoke to nothing of Selena. It spoke to nothing of what couldn’t be seen by those from beyond her world, besieged by invisible agony in a way she’d never wish upon anyone.
It left one outlier. She didn’t bother pressing Josiah further, burning as the question was upon further thought. For what he shouldn’t have been able to witness at all, she thanked any god who would listen that he did.
----------------------------------------
If their expressions were any indicator, the severity of the situation was not lost on the four who’d turned their backs on the church. The wide-eyed fear on their faces was different in origin than her own, and yet still spoke to similar dread born of creeping agony. They were calm enough. Those around them were not. Octavia had been correct to worry as to the lives of others, and those of the blossom had clearly come to the same conclusion.
The shouting and screaming that befell her ears was far more natural than the horrific screeching she’d grown to expect. Still, in its own way, it was chilling. Those that ran past bore a third kind of panic, hands tethered to loved ones or that which they could carry. The peeking sun was deceptive, the softest splashes of morning light just barely filtering onto the Blessed City at the most cursed of times. For a moment, she could hardly move.
“Why is everyone screaming? I didn’t even think they could see the Dissonance,” she asked openly, forced to nearly shout above the vocal horror in every direction.
“They can’t,” Viola answered, raising her voice much the same, “but they know it’s here!”
“How?” Octavia asked.
It was not anxiety and overstimulation alone that kept her bound in place. Valkyrie’s Call cried out high above, a relentless threefold song that could hardly be called such. Intermittent as it was, the sensation was still deeply unsettling and far from peaceful. Each vibration that left her blood trembling did so with much less grace, her muscles taut and her nerves strained. She tensed against her will, and the bell she’d just begun to appreciate now cursed her with a sharp headache. No amount of clinging desperately to herself was stifling the prickling pressure clinging to her skin.
Harper was taking it slightly better, although the wince he bore as he shouted above the tolling was more than visible. “It’s a warning signal! Someone told us that this is the pattern for emergencies!”
It took much too long for Valkyrie’s Call to fall silent once more. Octavia couldn’t help but feel relieved, even with the ominous tolling replaced by yet more audible panic. Most had already surged well past. Only now did she sporadically catch one to two denizens of the blossom darting by with fear strangling their steps. It left screams she couldn’t see, numerous as they were, and that was all the more horrifying. Valkyrie’s song was far from the only echo in the Blessed City, and their terrorized voices carried far.
“The bell announces Dissonance is around?” Octavia attempted to clarify.
“The bell announces emergencies. Regular Dissonance has its own pattern, apparently,” Viola offered. “From the looks of it, they don’t seem to have emergencies very often.”
“Which begs the question,” Renato interrupted, “what the hell’s going on?”
Octavia and Josiah nearly answered in unison. “Selena.”
The silence that fell upon them collectively was as instant as it was smothering, offset only by unseen anguish and distress audibly pervading the air. Viola blinked.
“What?”
“Selena,” Octavia repeated. “It’s her. That’s where all this is coming from.”
What began as mild disbelief evolved into pure horror. Silver Brevada nearly slipped from loose fingers to the cold cobblestone below, a rattling gasp escaping Viola’s lips. One trembling hand rose to her mouth uselessly.
“You’re joking,” she breathed.
“I’m not joking,” Octavia spoke hurriedly. “I’m not.”
“Do you have any idea, absolutely any, how bad this is?” Viola murmured, every word shaky as her voice rose higher.
“Wait, what’s wrong?” Harper asked slowly.
“For a Maestra to be Dissonant is…” Madrigal nearly whispered, snatching the words from Viola’s lips.
It was a severe situation. Octavia was well aware of that much. Regardless, for all Viola had spoken of the Maestro world, never once had she seen such helplessness incarnate plague the Maestra’s expression. It was more chilling than any ice her skillful song could ever offer up, and Octavia’s heart dropped into her stomach. Viola’s eyes pierced hers with fear unrestrained. That, too, froze her soul.
Every horrified gaze that drifted to Octavia in turn was equally distressing, more than enough to leave her nauseous and anxious. Josiah spared her, at least, clenched fists trembling at his sides as his eyes scraped the ground alone. It still left four Maestros staring her down. She fought the urge to run.
“What?” she finally spat, just a bit too harshly.
“Nothing,” Harper answered, averting his eyes.
“What do we do?” Madrigal asked bluntly.
Octavia didn’t know, nor could she be tasked with concocting a solid answer. It was a situation she absolutely did not want to take charge of, and to lead them in the face of a disaster unprecedented was a terrifying concept. She was no leader. She could hardly speak at all, every word dying on her lips instantly. She was trembling. Where she couldn’t look a single one in the eyes, she cast her gaze high aloft to Valkyrie’s Call instead.
Yet again was it crying out, warnings of the worst kind raining down to the city below. Even now, the Velrose Acolyte did as only she could, never faltering in the face of catastrophe. Octavia wondered if Sonata knew the circumstances. She wondered if Sonata would care at all, should she learn the full truth of the agony currently unleashed.
“She’s up there alone,” Octavia observed aloud, her gaze still locked on the bell tower alone.
“Octavia, she’s by herself,” Viola quickly interjected.
“Yeah.”
“No, I mean she’s by herself,” Viola repeated with far more urgency. “She’s alone! She doesn’t have anyone up there to help!”
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“Help with what?” she pressed.
“Where’s Selena?”
It took a moment. When it sank in, Octavia found only lead where her blood had once run. “Oh, God,” she muttered softly, her voice trembling.
Valkyrie’s Call would lead her with ease. The song of a bell that sounded off so high above its twin below was a beacon to the acolyte who’d plagued her life from afar. There was surely nowhere else Selena could’ve gone. Of what Octavia had seen of a Maestra so haunted by agony, Sonata’s power was irrelevant. Ultimately, she was alone. She was mortal. She was vulnerable in every way.
“What do we do?” Renato asked this time, his voice strikingly level.
Protect him.
She’d done just that, and she had Josiah at her side to show for it--more than shaken as he was. She prayed, for at least a moment, to recapture the same demanding guidance a second time over in the midst of chaos. She found nothing, and it wasn’t entirely a surprise. Still, it was disheartening. It left her to do all she could, drinking in their strengths and stealing the deepest breath she could. Her words were surely betrayed by her trembling voice. It was the best she could do, for how all eyes were on her.
“We…need to help her, a-and we need to help the people here at the same time. We need to evacuate. Selena’s…never been to Velrose, so she shouldn’t have been able to find her way up the tower immediately. We have time, but we have to move now.”
“T-Then let’s split up,” Viola offered, her own voice threatening to crack. “We can take care of the Dissonance down here, but we need to get you up there.”
Already, Stradivaria was halfway into her arms, cradled gently in shaky hands. “Why me?”
She was far from the only one clinging to her partner. Viola’s grip upon Silver Brevada was renewed and strong all the same. “You’re faster than every single one of us, especially with those stairs. You’ve got the best shot of getting there in time.”
In time for what, she refused to ask. “What about Harper?”
Viola shook her head. “We need him down here. The more firepower we have on the ground, the better.”
“Good one,” Renato joked.
Viola never got the chance to scold him, sharp as her eyes already were. The screeching was sharper, and she nearly bashed herself in the head with Silver Brevada as her hands flew to her ears on instinct. It was a collective reflex. Octavia, too, was not immune to at least a strong wince, staggering somewhat in the wake of the biting dizziness that trailed the sound. It hardly mattered if she could see it immediately. She knew it to exist, somewhere. It took a moment.
“There!” Madrigal cried, one surprisingly-steady fingertip aimed squarely to the distant left.
She was disgustingly correct. It was far slower than that which Octavia had been assailed with below, granted. It left the boiling violet no less horrific, swelling and writhing in a predictable fog she’d unfortunately grown to expect. It was slow, at first, and yet it rose steadily ever higher into the crisp air of dawn. Sunbeams peering into the Blessed City were lost on the smoky agony, once more screaming as it was. What it lacked in speed, it made up for in quantity, and it fanned out far too efficiently. It wasn’t quite the sea, and that was a relief. It was still enough of a mist to leave Octavia claiming hesitant steps in reverse. Where she moved backwards, it came forwards. She was far from the only one.
“Eww, this stuff again? Seriously?”
Her eyes snapped to Renato. So, too, did Viola’s follow along. Where she’d expected to find terror in the face of his first round with suffering incarnate, he seemed far more simply uncomfortable--if not annoyed.
“You’ve…seen it before?” Viola asked incredulously, every word slow and shocked.
The Maestro never once tore his eyes from the screaming smoke, undaunted even as it pressed ever further forward. “I mean, yeah, a couple times. Sick and tired of it, honestly. It’s gross as hell.”
Octavia held her breath. “Do you…know what it is? I thought you…didn’t know what Dissonance was.”
To her immense surprise, he only grinned with far too much satisfaction, adjusting his hat as he braced against the ground. “Oh, cool, we gave it a name. I have no damn idea what I’m lookin’ at, but I sure as hell know how to get rid of it!”
Octavia never got the chance to press him further, forced to swallow the dozens of questions he’d cursed her with. Instead, his confident eyes fell to a different Maestro entirely. “Harper, help me out here!” he called. “Give me whatever you’ve got!”
Harper flinched, his fingers tensing around Royal Orleans. “M-Me? I, uh, I can try!”
Octavia had seen his flames in full exactly once, and in far more joyous circumstances. She’d never seen him fight, and it would’ve been a sweet thought to imagine he’d never have to. Where his scorching song had once birthed the sun with every blazing note, he battled to do so once more with sharp eyes and steady hands. What burning brilliance he’d offered up with much more happiness in the light of day now challenged the weak rays of dawn. Fiery scarlets and searing oranges were stolen from the sky, clinging to his broiling melody. His breath was fuel to lashing flames as powerful as she’d remembered them, at utmost minimum. In the face of agony unrivaled, the contrast of his scathing inferno before the most miserable violet was glorious.
For all that could explode from the bell, he crumpled it into a burning star born of a fiery ballad. It was the second time Octavia would be utterly remiss to call it a “little” fireball. It swelled fiercely, devouring what oxygen the swimming smog before him hadn’t yet laid claim to. It doubled in size, tripled in size, crackled viciously with every last breath he could offer. It was much the same breath with which he gave it flight, and the small sun that erupted forth was as beautiful as it was mildly terrifying to witness.
Renato took one step forward. He took another. He took another, and another, and another, collapsing into a heated sprint with a grin burning just as brightly. If the luminosity bothered him, he didn’t show it. If the scalding warmth, red-hot and scattering embers in its wake, stung him, he didn’t flinch. He was alongside the surging star with every undaunted step, two neat slices of cherry oak brandished between deft fingers. His pace was perfect, and he didn’t falter as he caught the flaming tailwind of the little sun. Initially, Octavia thought he fell. He did much, much the opposite.
At such a speed, his velocity brought all he needed to send him forwards just as fast. Unflinchingly, Renato cast his full body weight downwards onto his outstretched hands, his occupied palms claiming the cold ground below. Once and once further he tumbled, his ankles clearing his own head with incredible skill. Not for a moment did his gathered speed falter. If anything, Octavia could’ve sworn he was faster. It was more than enough.
When he pushed hard off the stone earth at last, the height he stole aloft was incredible. He sailed above the sun, a star in his own right with drumsticks raised just as high. Renato inverted twice over as he crashed to earth, gravity reclaiming him at last. He brought with it a cry of effort, ruptured hellfire, a sparkling grin, and the loudest sound Octavia had ever heard in her life.
Fires once so densely packed and perfectly condensed shattered to pieces beneath the shockwaves, skillful flicks of the Maestro’s wrists more than enough to burst the burning sun. The ball of flame erupted in a display equally splendid and vicious, a ruthless boom trailed instantly by a crackling whoosh in its wake. Octavia was flat on the ground, knocked well to the cold earth below at some point. It hardly registered, and the pain of collision mattered little. Her eyes were on the exploding sun alone, searing rain splattering violently in cascades of burning crimson and flickering orange.
The contrast upon screeching violet was striking and instant, for how the incinerating wrath of the will of fire left the writhing mist melting ferociously. Octavia could’ve sworn the impact audibly sizzled, and the fading screams of unnatural agony grew softer where specks of flame fizzled and died. Spare embers sprayed and splashed haphazardly to the ground, sputtering to a quiet and flickering death in their own right.
“Ah! It was you!”
Harper, too, was left stunned on the ground, just barely propped up on his elbows. His eyes were wide with something between surprise and awe, one finger fixed firmly upon Renato. “I-In the plaza, with my fire! That was you!”
It took effort for Octavia to prop herself up much the same. Still, her shock mirrored Harper’s own as her eyes flickered to Renato. “Wait, that was you?”
Renato offered Harper only a sly grin, playfully spinning one drumstick between his fingers. “Guilty as charged. Couldn’t stay away from the action. Either way, nice shot, man!”
Harper smiled weakly. “You’re not so bad, yourself.”
Renato offered his assistance, and Harper took his hand without hesitation. He flinched beneath the motion of Renato ruffling his cap, shirking away slightly at the sudden touch. It made Renato laugh, at least, and Harper returned the gesture with another half-hearted smile.
Octavia wished she could spare the time to be proud of his strength--either of them, really. Still, as she found her footing and aided a shaky Viola in reclaiming her own, her heart was racing for a different reason entirely. Once more were her eyes aloft out of reflex, and once more was her stomach in a knot.
“Madrigal, go with Octavia,” Viola ordered, clutching Silver Brevada tightly.
Madrigal blinked. “Me? But why are--”
“Stairs and I don’t mix, even a bit,” she answered with little emotion. Already, her eyes were cast only to swirling violet, churning in grotesque clouds somewhat distantly. “You can at least help get her up there. We need a strong Maestra to help.”
At her praise, Madrigal beamed. Even now, two split fingers rushed to her eye victoriously. “The Magical Madrigal will not fail!”
“I can help,” Josiah offered, his eyes falling to Octavia. “I’m not a Maestro, but I can help evacuate.”
Already, if she looked, Renato and Harper were a magnet for Dissonance alone. In their wake trailed a soul of ice, although she halted in her tracks several paces forwards. Viola spared Octavia precisely one glance over her shoulder, eyes sharp and firm.
“We’ll meet up later. Do your best and stay safe!” she called, Silver Brevada already rising to her lips.
Octavia nodded. “Same to you!”
The steady tap tap tap of Viola’s flats upon the hard ground was all that clashed with natural screaming and unnatural screeching. She could hear Royal Orleans from afar, if she tried. She could hear the explosions that followed, if she wanted. Valkyrie’s Call was silent. She waited. When she found nothing, her eyes drifted to her side instead. His desperate words were fragile, and they matched the severity of his gaze perfectly. It was the most prominent sound she could find.
“Octavia,” Josiah spoke slowly, “please.”
She thought to ask. It didn’t matter. She already knew, and she nodded slowly.
“I’ll…do everything I can,” she murmured.
“I know whatever happens, happens,” he continued, his voice soft. “I know we’ve only just met. I’ve never seen someone go so far for a stranger. I’m sorry to ask you to do it again, but…please help her. Please.”
Every breath she could take rattled on the way out. “I promise I will.”
The way his eyes shimmered threateningly was not lost on her, the calm in his voice irrelevant. Still, it was with a sharp inhale that he turned just as sharply on his heel, dashing towards panicked cries Octavia couldn’t pinpoint. The lump in her own throat was just as much of a threat.
There was a hand left at her side, crawling its way into her own and squeezing tightly. Where the dawn didn’t offer Octavia brilliant sunshine in full, she found enough of it in Madrigal’s smile--worried eyes or otherwise. She squeezed back, stealing her touch reluctantly in favor of the bow and fingers upon sturdy strings. Just as soon as she’d fled the church, it was the pride of the blossom that drew her back up its steps with Madrigal at her side.
Octavia feared losing her way, initially. Dissonance made for an excellent guide in the worst way, dripping trails of wispy remnants still stuck to carpet and clinging to corners. Once more were they useless and harmless, if not still notably unsettling. Every twist and turn was ironically illuminated by that which stole the light more effectively, candlelight long since blighted traded in turn for miserable navigators. The return of the tolling helped, still steady and distressing. Octavia shivered with every step.
“Madrigal,” she began breathlessly, never slowing her stride. “Are you coming up with me?”
“It has to be you,” she answered.
“But I don’t know if I can do this on my own.”
Madrigal shook her head, her curls bouncing violently with each motion. “You’re not alone. Sonata is up there, too. You’ll be together.”
“What about you, then?”
Madrigal’s smile was eternal, even in the dark. “I’m not alone. I have Lyra.”
It was a warm thought in a time of cold pressure, and it eased Octavia’s heart in the slightest. So, too, could she say the same for the violin she clung to so tightly as she ran. It was her one singular comfort in a place meant for so much more.
The staircase was just as endless as she remembered it being, and her eyes climbed much too high. From the foot of the steps, she could make out little more than the echo of the bell as it bounced painfully down to earth. If sound was deemed irrelevant, then her sight was claimed by ever more guiding violet. Selena’s aftermath was damning, fizzling, clinging to every stair Octavia would be forced to take. It was the first time she dreaded stepping on them, wispy and useless as she knew them to be. Her stomach hurt, and she cast her gaze above for far longer than she’d intended. Octavia tensed, her grip around Stradivaria enough to leave her muscles aching.
Madrigal turned her back on the Maestra, her fingers falling naturally into position over every string of Lyra’s Repose. Her smile was more than audible in her voice. “Not a single teeny tiny bit of darkness is gonna get past me! I won’t let you down.”
Octavia felt a tiny smile poke the edges of her lips in turn. “Thank you. Please be safe.”
“And…Octavia?”
She’d thought to run, one foot already mounting the steps. Octavia stilled, throwing a glance over her shoulder. “Yes?”
Madrigal was motionless, her words soft. “Do whatever you need to do.”
As to what it meant, Octavia didn’t dwell. It had implications. She didn’t want to follow them. All she followed was the song of Valkyrie’s Call, and she threw everything she had into storming the stairs of the Velrose bell tower instead.
Climbing the steps slowly paled in comparison to sprinting. Adrenaline helped, and her body felt shockingly light. When the bell fell silent, all the stone walls offered her was the song of her own labored breaths as she climbed faster, faster, faster still. Her heartbeat echoed just the same, as did the blood rushing through her ears. She’d had thoughts, at some point. They’d tumbled to the bottom already. She felt clear. She felt strong. She carried a promise with her, traded for fear. Were she Sonata, perhaps she would’ve crumpled beneath the weight of terror on her own. Still, when she reached the peak, neither would be alone. It was enough to keep her fighting forever.
The light that spilled down from above crashed upon the steps in waves, and Octavia chased it all the way out. She stumbled into the open air, the even flooring below clashing sharply with that of the unbalanced steps behind. It took her more than a moment to regain her footing, and she stumbled slightly as she stood atop the Velrose bell tower at last. Where had once been toll after toll, the resplendent bell was silent and still at its center. It was simultaneously how she remembered it and not, all at once.
The girl who laid claim to the rope of Valkyrie’s Call did so without faltering, slender hands taut around the shimmering rope and pearl-tinged robes mildly ruffled. Signs of a hurried flight be damned, the Velrose Acolyte was every bit as angelic nearest to the heavens. With a bell as her shield, she was steadfast and unmoving. Not once did the acolyte unwind herself from the rope, nor did she relax her tense and familiar posture. Not once, as well, did she peel her eyes from her counterpart of so far below.
It was surely the highest the Velpyre Acolyte had ever risen, a fallen angel propelled into the highest peak of the blossom from the very depths of Hell. She carried with her every last bit of sorrow and agony, violet-born and not. Disheveled lilac clashed with much the same violet, oozing Dissonance cascading from shoulders that once shook with stifled laughter. If Sonata was frazzled, then Selena was broken.
She was low, braced in her own way in a stance Octavia failed to register as human. So, too, was her glare eternal, offered to her twin of the blossom alone. The Dissonant girl left yet more in her wake, fizzling and dying much the same. Her heart was perhaps equally dead, and only rage sizzled in its place. For what could spill into her eyes alone, every bit of wrath Octavia had ever seen pool behind hazy pupils stung the Velrose Acolyte in full.
Selena’s visage alone spoke for itself. Sonata, then, was the catalyst for war.
“Octavia,” Sonata said calmly. “You’re finally here. Your timing is perfect. Let’s begin.”