Octavia came up screaming.
She had no idea that she was wailing at all until her throat began to burn. She didn’t remember emerging from the darkness, nor did she remember where she was. She hardly cared. She remembered the end, and that was what mattered. She clawed at her scalp, tangling her fingers violently into her hair as she lost her mind aloud.
“Octavia?” Harper cried, nearly dropping Royal Orleans. Two spent tolls were an indicator of their own. He shunned the trumpet beneath the birch in favor of both hands upon Octavia’s shoulders.
“Octavia, what’s wrong?” Viola exclaimed in turn, scrambling to her feet as she crawled out of the river.
What happiness had bloomed around her now screeched to a standstill. Eyes were on her. Her name was born of several voices. Octavia’s panic was a magnet for attention, and a tiny part of her loathed it. Still, there was nothing to do but scream. It was uncontrollable. In every conceivable way, it burned, and the revelation replayed in her head even now.
She couldn’t tell him. There was absolutely, with certainty, no way that she could tell him.
“Octavia, please, talk to me!” Harper shouted desperately, shaking her shoulders. “What happened?”
Octavia could only shake her head, her fingers still burrowed deep into her hair. “No, no!”
“Octavia, it’s okay, you can tell me! It’ll be alright!”
“I can’t!” she sobbed.
“Why not?” he cried, his own tone slowly growing more frantic.
“I can’t, I can’t, I can’t!” Octavia repeated.
“Octavia, whatever it is, I can take it, I promise! I wouldn’t have asked you to tell me if I couldn’t! Please! What did you see?” Harper begged.
“Octavia, calm down, just talk to us,” Viola pleaded. “What’s going on?”
“It was them, right?” Harper interrupted. His grip on her shoulders tightened into something almost painful. Octavia wondered if she deserved it. For what, she wasn’t sure.
When she didn’t respond, Harper didn’t let up. “Octavia, please, at least tell me that.”
Octavia nodded, tears streaming down her face. His eyes shimmered with the same, albeit withheld by comparison.
Harper cupped her cheek with one hand, gently brushing aside a stray tear with his thumb. “I’m the one who asked you to do this. I need to know what happened to them, I’m begging you. I know it’ll be bad. I’m prepared for that. Please don’t shut me out. Okay?”
This was a bad idea. This was a really, really bad idea.
Stradivaria.
Yes?
Stratos answered her prayer, the warmth of his voice in her head mildly calming. Even without him immediately present or her mouth moving, the knowledge that he could still hear her in the general vicinity was a relief. It didn’t solve much by default.
What do I do? Do I have to?
The pains you bear witness to as the Ambassador are your own to carry. From there, it is solely your decision as to with whom, if any, such pains are shared.
What do you think I should do?
It is not my place to say. The choice must be your own.
“Octavia, breathe for a minute. We’ll talk it out together. I don’t know what you saw, but that’s the last toll you have to do for now, right? We can take a break,” Viola offered softly.
Viola’s face was so like his. Where she thought of him, she thought of her. The words came out before she’d even processed they’d left her mouth.
“Vincent,” Octavia murmured.
Two syllables were enough to drag the world to a halt. Viola stopped breathing altogether. Every last drop of color drained from her face as her blank gaze met Octavia’s own. Ever so slowly, she turned her head towards Harper. His confusion was of a different flavor, visually. The name didn’t click immediately, and yet the look on Viola’s face was enough for him to tense.
Viola’s eyes flickered between Octavia and Harper wordlessly. Octavia wanted to run. For how white Viola’s clenched knuckles were as she forewent oxygen altogether, she was confident there was one person who wanted to flee more than she did.
Harper blinked. He blinked again. He blinked several times over, shaking his head slowly. There came a point where it was no longer slow. There came a point at which the moment it hit was visible in his eyes. There came a point at which the recognition of the name sent every pained emotion on earth flickering across his face. His hands trembled severely, and the rest of him followed soon after. Parted lips offered nothing but rattling breaths. Eventually, those, too, weren't slow.
His gaze snapped to Octavia’s, and it was utterly indiscernible. Whatever plea lay beneath the agony in his pupils was useless. Octavia’s heart was shattering in time with his soul, for what she could see in his eyes. She’d already gone too far. She couldn’t lie. She couldn’t take it back. She couldn’t change the way he’d been so sickeningly wronged by the world. She sincerely feared she’d faint.
Viola reached out one trembling hand of her own, the white tint of knuckles once taut still painting her skin. “Harper, I-I--”
Fearful eyes, flooding with something unknown, stabbed her in the heart instead. With one scathing, painful glance, Harper turned on his heel. He ran.
He was the one person faster than Octavia. Still, their gap in skill wasn’t unfathomable. If she sprinted with all she had from this very moment, she could catch him. She was certain. Even so, once she did, she’d have nothing to offer him.
“I’m sorry,” Viola murmured, her voice cracking.
Her attention was torn between two of the heaviest burdens she’d ever seen crushing the innocent. Nestling her face into the crook of Viola’s neck, she offered what few platitudes she could find. “It’s not your fault.”
“I’m so sorry,” Viola repeated.
The bitter tears that began to drip down her cheeks stung Octavia’s own. She only clung to Viola tighter, with or without the Maestra’s returned embrace. “You didn’t do anything wrong. This has nothing to do with you.”
“Don’t lie to me,” Viola sobbed.
“You’re not guilty of anything he did. I know you know that.”
Joy was gone. Sorrow took its place in full. Their circle of bystanders to the sorrowful spectacle had drawn near, although with little support of their own to contribute. To be fair, Octavia had so little to give, just as well. She respected their attempts, and not once did she free Viola.
“Octavia’s right,” Madrigal tried softly. “Your father’s actions are his alone. They’re not Viola’s.”
“But still, this is all sorts of messed up,” Renato muttered. “I don’t…really understand. I thought you said there were three? People your dad killed, I mean?”
“And that was four people,” Josiah finished.
“Guys,” Octavia warned sharply. This wasn’t the time.
“How did they die?” Viola whispered, nearly out of Octavia’s earshot.
She strongly debated answering. To be fair, they were already in this deep. “His mother was stabbed. His father was…I guess a head injury. Got hit over and over. I haven’t really stopped to piece it together, but I’m…assuming his mother died first. The house only went up in flames after his father was left to die.”
“Left to die?” Viola asked, her wavering voice stabilizing somewhat. “He didn’t kill him?”
“He did. I just…don’t know if he knew.”
Viola was silent for a moment. She wriggled out of Octavia’s grasp, wiping her eyes with the palms of her hands. “Then I know why there were only three. I…we can talk about it later. I just want Harper to be okay.”
“Where do you think he went?” Madrigal murmured.
Octavia cast her eyes towards the path of his hurtful flight. “I have a few ideas, but I’m not confident.”
“Should we give him some space?” Renato offered.
Octavia paused. “I don’t know. I’m worried about him. I at least want to know he’s somewhere safe.”
“Then we should go before he gets too far away. What’s the first place you thought of?” Josiah asked.
She had one suspicion. Granted, the distance was far enough and the location tricky enough that she risked losing his trail more every second. She was nearly bouncing on her heels in anxiety. “It’s far. I need to go now if I’m gonna beat him there. I think I can catch up to him.”
“Then go!” Renato said. “We’ll check Viola’s place.”
“And we’ll check the forest and the city, too,” Madrigal added. “Don’t worry.”
Viola was quiet. It didn’t escape Octavia. Exactly half of her wanted to stay and hold the girl forever. Whether or not it would steal the guilt from her shoulders was debatable. In the end, it was her fault for putting it there in the first place. The thought tore her heart to shreds.
She threw every regret beneath her boots, stamping each into the dirt one by one as she sprinted. Hurtling deep into the woods, blurring greenery and showering shade were enough to hide her tears. It was all she could do to hold them back, and she blinked away what she could as she ran. It wasn’t the time. She could hate herself later.
Her footsteps echoed, subtle as the sound came. She thought she was going insane, at first. Not once did it slow, nor did it overtake her. It took effort to glance over her shoulder as she dodged sharpened shrubbery and dangling branches ahead. At the very least, the ambience of pursuit was attached to something physical.
“What are you doing?” she cried between labored breaths, paced as they were.
“I’m coming with you,” Josiah called back, drawing ever nearer to her with impressive agility. “Two sets of eyes are better than one, and I don’t want you going alone. Besides, I’m the only other person who can keep up with you.”
So often did she forget. After all, he was the boy who’d outrun devastation itself. They burst into the sunlight in tandem, frantic footsteps carrying them well across grassy fields on the path to Coda. Octavia kept her eyes forward and her sprint endless, single-minded as it was. It was easier than letting her thoughts run in every direction imaginable. She couldn’t control it.
Fields were easier than forests, for what obstacles left her alone. She could hit her full stride, and she didn’t hesitate to do so. Whatever brought her closer to Harper was utterly necessary. It kept her from checking her path, just the same. It wasn’t as though there was much to trip over, nor that they’d left more than pain in their wake. There was no reason for Josiah to throw his eyes behind him that much. She didn’t have the time to ask.
----------------------------------------
Truthfully, Octavia didn’t remember the exact direction of the camp. Twisting alleyways along the backroads of Coda were a maze only Harper himself had mastered, a puzzle that guarded orphans from the harsh judgment of the city. Her panicked sprint at the time had done little to solidify any directions she could’ve committed to memory.
She took her best guess, retracing her steps from a humble little flower shop to what winding corners she did recall. Josiah was silent for most of her navigational contemplation, by which he knew next to nothing of her final destination. It took far longer than she was willing to admit just to find the alley in the first place.
“Is this it?” he asked, peering down the narrow corridor. Snuggled between two shade-soaked, lifeless buildings, it was as good as she was going to get.
Octavia tested her hypothesis with tentative steps. “I think so.”
Josiah was hesitant. It showed on his face. To his credit, he followed regardless. “Where are we going, anyway?”
Octavia sighed. “How much do you know about Harper, exactly?”
He shrugged. “I feel like I’m learning a lot about him today.”
She scoffed. “You and me both.”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“He’s got…family on the far side of the city. Either he’s with them, or they might have an idea of where he went.”
“I thought his parents were dead.”
He wasn’t wrong. It was still blunt, and Octavia winced. “You’ll see what I mean.”
What began as a narrow corridor began to splinter, an array of sharp turns offering too many options. She’d been worried about this part. Racking her memory was fruitless, and any attempts to assemble a valid route were a mess. Octavia threw caution to the wind and chanced a left.
“Is he mad at Viola, do you think?” Josiah continued.
Octavia shook her head. “He wouldn’t be. He’s not the kind of person to confuse people’s…choices like that.”
She was lying, partially. Harper was kind to a fault, and yet this was an absolute outlier. She knew him. She liked to imagine that she knew his heart. Under no circumstances had she expected this scenario, let alone could she predict his emotions in its aftermath. It didn’t matter whether Viola was guilty of crimes not her own. She was a Vacanti. That might’ve been enough.
Octavia took a right.
“That’s...most of the tolls now,” Josiah offered, changing the subject. The distraction would’ve been nice. For the direction it risked heading, she feared that topic more.
Octavia took a left. “Uh huh,” she muttered.
“There’s still three we can get to. Two right now, but technically three.”
Another left. “I know.”
“And…once we’re done with those, we have to start looking for other Maestros, right?”
She stole another right. It was a miracle that he’d strayed from what could’ve been a distressing conversation. “I haven’t thought that far ahead yet.”
“I don’t know where we’d even start to look. We don’t know if there’s more in Mezzoria. We don’t know if we’re gonna have to go off the continent. We don’t even know if there’s more in the damn city.”
She went straight for once, trailing the path downwards. “We’ll figure it out. We all found each other, somehow. I’m sure there’s a way to find more.”
“Between the six of us, there’s six Harmonial Instruments. That’s six Muses, even if we can’t get to one of them. Ninety left to go. Ninety left to find in the first place, honestly.”
Yet another left. “We can figure it out after we find Harper.”
“Octavia,” he said softly.
“Yes?”
His footsteps faded. When she peered over her shoulder, he’d come to a halt. His expression fell somewhere between blank and pained. “There's...actually two more that we…we know where they are.”
It took her a moment. When it sank in, her heart could’ve stopped. This wasn’t the time or the place. It would never be the time or the place, probably.
“How are we…gonna get to them?”
Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it.
It was easier to think about shuffling debris. It was a reflex, actually, distant down the corridor as it was. The sound came with a silhouette, and it was the first company they’d encountered since breaching the alleyway. A wave earned her nothing, for how their back was turned. In tandem with the gap, she would’ve gone unseen regardless.
“Hello?” she called.
Only then did she earn acknowledgement, a sharp jerk of a distant neck offered in turn. Tethered hair whipped her shadow-clad stranger as they moved, and yet Octavia could make out nothing more. She could make out their escape, at least, darting behind a corner she hadn’t curved around on her own.
“Wait!” Octavia cried.
Her feet moved before her thoughts caught up. Josiah followed in her wake without question. Every turn she stole from the fleeing visage so distant was new. Some even came adjacent to those she’d attempted, by which she feared she’d lose her way yet more. Keeping up wasn’t an issue. Still, they were swift, practically soundless as they dipped in and out of abundant shadows.
Each corner was a reflex, and they didn’t hesitate for a moment. Following them at all was a gamble. Frankly, at this point, stopping would leave Octavia more lost than she could ever undo alone. There would be no Harper to save her.
One left came too quick, and she almost lost her faceless target altogether. Her eyes faltered for a brief moment as they dashed behind a wall. It took significant effort to lower her body, brace her muscles, and do all she could to round the bend in time. She feared outrunning Josiah. The alternative was scathing disorientation. With all she had, she kicked off, desperate to catch her escaping guide.
All she caught was pain, instant and throbbing.
The recoil was immediate, and Octavia crashed to the hard ground below as her hands rushed to her face. Ideally, she wasn’t bleeding. Her immobile assailant had been softer than a wall, at least. They were immobile no longer, stumbling backwards in the wake of the graceless collision. It wasn’t quite a mutual exchange of suffering. It was still enough for them to share groans of pain.
“Octavia!” Josiah cried, dropping to his knees at her side. With care, he cradled her head in his arms. “God, are you okay?”
“Watch where you’re going, damn,” her obstacle growled, rubbing his hand against one reddened cheek.
“Move your hands,” Josiah ordered, already doing so himself. “Let me see.”
She wasn’t bleeding, granted. Still, the lack of pressure left her face aching yet more. Looking upwards was a welcome distraction, if not confusing. If she squinted, she could almost recognize the messy curls. The bare feet were just as familiar. There was a violin attached to him, once, although the latter had been scathingly unfortunate. It took her a moment. When she found the name, it floated through her head in Harper’s voice, splattered with aggravation.
“Domino,” she said bluntly.
The boy raised an eyebrow, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “Have we met?”
She winced. “I, uh…once. I think?”
Recognition dawned on his face, and his eyes widened in just the slightest. He gave her a lazy nod. “Oh, yeah. Harper’s girlfriend. Right.”
Octavia rolled her eyes. “No.”
“You know him?” Josiah asked. For the most part, he was still primarily fixated on inspecting her injuries.
“He knows Harper,” she answered.
“And I don’t know you,” Domino added, tilting his head towards Josiah.
He raised one hand in a half-hearted wave. “Josiah, then. You know where Harper is?”
Domino scoffed. “You guys managed to lose him? I’m not his owner. How should I know? He’s with you people more often than he’s with us.”
Octavia chose her words carefully. “He ran somewhere, and we’re…trying to figure out where he went.”
Domino shrugged. “He’s not with us, so he’s probably off crying somewhere again like he always does. One of his moods.”
When he earned only two confused gazes in unison, he gave an aggravated sigh, plucking at one stray curl. “Look, he puts on this big tough guy act and runs away to sulk when nobody's looking. If no one can find him, he’s probably at home. He hasn’t had one of his tantrums in awhile, though.”
“Home?” Octavia pressed. “I thought you said he wasn’t at the camp?”
Domino stared blankly at her for a moment. “His home. Or, at least, what’s left of it.”
Words escaped her. Josiah filled in where she faltered, and she appreciated that much. If her heart broke on Harper’s behalf any further today, she wouldn’t have one left by the time she slept tonight. She didn’t particularly want to cry in front of Domino.
“It still exists? Where is it?” Josiah asked.
Domino jutted one thumb behind him lazily. “Take one left and one right, go past the camp, and go left until you hit another construction area. Head into the woods far enough to the north of that and you’ll find abandoned houses. From there, you’ll know which one.”
“How will we--”
“You’ll know, idiot. Use your head.”
Josiah winced, swallowing what words he had left.
“Do you…want to come with us?” Octavia offered.
Domino was silent. He didn’t dignify her with an answer, instead gifting her nothing but dust as he turned on one heel. With his back to her, Octavia was left to watch his departure from the ground.
“Hey, did you hear me?” she called.
“Yeah,” he called back.
“Do you want to come with us, then?” Octavia asked again.
“Why would I?”
She blinked. “Aren’t you worried about Harper?” she called louder, blighted by the growing distance.
This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.
For the briefest moment, his steps slowed, and he nearly came to a halt. His fingers curled into fists at his sides, small shoulders rising and falling with the effort of a sigh. He found his way forward again, eventually, hardly gracing her with an answer.
“Why should I care about someone who doesn’t care about us anymore?” Domino spat.
He was out of sight before Octavia could so much as begin assembling a response, stealing into shadows her eyes couldn’t dissect. She thought to follow, and yet she doubted it’d be worth it--let alone productive. For a moment, it was all she could do to stare at where he’d last stood, still bound to the earth as she was.
“We should go,” Josiah said. “It sounds like a bit of a walk.”
Octavia gave him a slow nod, slipping one hand into his outstretched own as she struggled to her feet. Her physical pain had weakened to a dull ache. In its place, her concern for Harper continued to curse her with new flavors of hurt.
----------------------------------------
The walk wasn’t quite as severe as she feared it would be. Morning had long since passed, the tell-tale heat of noon high overhead. She’d been fortunate enough to stall her way through the remainder of the morning services’ bell tolling--although the thought hadn’t crossed her mind until now. Had she been roughly an hour earlier in performing the Witnessing, she would likely have returned to a shape just as poor as that in which she’d awoken.
The idea of panicking at all was deeply sickening. To panic in front of Josiah would be much worse. If she had to hazard a guess at another victim of the burnt blossom’s far-reaching grasp, it would be him. She could confide in him, maybe. She still couldn’t prove it.
Domino’s directions were legitimate, although the construction area was more difficult to locate than most other landmarks. The woods facing the north weren’t visible from the camp, let alone the outskirts of Coda. They were even thicker and more opaque from afar than those she’d previously considered abundant and lush. She settled on “overgrown”, almost unnatural in the way mismatched flora climbed splintered wood and vines strangled unsteady bricks.
“Abandoned”, per Domino’s words, wasn’t a poor descriptor, either. He’d neglected to mention the houses that dotted the cusp of the forest in turn, freed of the oppressive prison of shrubbery. They, too, were devoid of life. As to whatever was going on out here, she made a note to ask Viola later--once that situation was resolved.
What houses called the woods themselves home were surprisingly intact, if not decrepit and deteriorating in their own right. Many had long since succumbed to mosses and molds, roofs bending dangerously under the pressure of creeping branches. Bricks had pitifully crumbled, and shingles had come with them. Far too many doors, so often dampened by storms long past, had either escaped their hinges or snapped in two. Still, unlivable as they were versus those freed of greenery at her back, the foundations stood strong. It was almost disorienting, by which she’d stepped into a broken battlefield of decay.
She had a feeling as to which one she should be looking for, along with its respective tells. For what he did know of Harper, Josiah seemed to realize the same. He pointed it out before she had the chance.
“That one. It’s gotta be.”
She followed his trailing finger with her eyes, and she agreed with him immediately. It was blackened, crumbling, and--with the context in mind--most definitely charred to a crisp. It was surely a less obvious fate, to a third party. Regardless, the building was an absolute testament to damage incarnate. Meddling vegetation was the least of its problems, cursed instead by wooden beams spearing through the ceiling. Walls on every side had long since earned gaping holes or outright collapsed, paving passages to the open forest beyond. The front door was so thoroughly damaged that it may as well have not existed.
As to how the house was still standing to this day, clinging to mere scraps of annihilated brick and wood, Octavia couldn’t begin to guess. It was every bit as resilient as the boy who’d once called it home. A strong storm, or more, would undoubtedly do it in eventually. Knowing what she knew now, she prayed that day would never come.
She was hesitant to step inside--if not for fear of being crushed by the collapse of a creaking roof, then for fear of confronting what lay within. She bit her nails. The gesture wasn’t subtle, apparently.
“Hey, it’ll be alright,” Josiah comforted. “Just…talk to him. You’re good at that.”
“I have nothing to say to him,” Octavia murmured. “I don’t know what to do. I shouldn’t have told him.”
“You told him because he asked you to. You were trying to be a good friend.”
“A good friend is what I feel the least like right now.”
Josiah paused for a moment. “You go in and talk to him. I’ll wait here.”
Octavia winced. “You’re not coming in with me?”
Josiah shook his head, offering a weak smile. “Right now, he needs you, not me. I’m not exactly the best at finding my words, anyway.
“Josiah--”
“Just try. If it doesn’t work out, it doesn’t work out. Do your best, okay?”
Truthfully, she was getting sick of that phrase recently. Her best amounted to little, at this point. Still, motivation was threefold. She didn’t have the heart to turn him down. Harper needed someone--her or otherwise. More than anything, it was the least she could do to heal a wound that she’d opened.
What tentative first steps she took into the scorched house scraped and squeaked, floorboards protesting noisily beneath her feet. Octavia treaded with caution, somewhat paranoid about outright falling through the floor. The wide holes blighting the masonry at least blessed her with flimsy sunlight, sparing her from the horrific task of plunging into darkened decay.
She navigated around rusted nails and bits of broken glass as necessary. Several collapsed beams were so tightly condensed that squeezing past required excessive flexibility. The entire room was a tomb waiting to happen. It had already taken enough lives, to be fair.
There was something sickeningly satisfying about the disfigurement, in a way. The wrath of time had disrupted memories she still couldn’t stifle. Shards of Harper’s tolls were present, even in the wake of the inferno that had swallowed the blood on Vincent’s hands. Above all else, the ruthless flames had burnt cherished memories and love to utter ashes. Octavia regretted her moment of relief as soon as the thought crossed her mind.
If she cared to look, she could pick out various aspects of a house so recently bound to two tolls alone. She found the salon, the kitchen, and even a window once untouched by spilt blood. Octavia liked to imagine the sprinkling crystal along the floor was divorced from the abused lamps that had started it all.
There were rooms she hadn’t seen, by which the hallway frayed. One was effectively obstructed in full, a protruding beam from on high barring a door long eroded. There was little decay behind it, and that much was aggravating. It was a poor time for curiosity. It left the far side of the hall, unburdened by interloping wood. If she strained, it came with sobs.
Octavia resisted the urge to run, lest any sudden movement leave the house caving in entirely. There were no squeaking floorboards to announce her approach, and every step was quieter. Her own breaths were in contrast to the gentle weeping that grew ever nearer. She still had no idea what to say. She doubted she’d ever find the words.
She assumed it was a bedroom. Devoured by flames long ago, a guess was the best she could offer to a room without so much as a door. Walls were useless where wood crumbled to dust, and carpet underfoot had morphed into roasted ash. There’d been a bed, once. It still clung to some semblance of shape, miraculously, charred remnants of a mattress gracing the frame. Rusted and protruding, the stray springs were somewhat of a hazard. If she tried, she could sit on it anyway. She’d have to ask Harper to move over.
With knees hugged tightly to his chest, he buried his face where she couldn’t see. His bangs just barely peeked over his kneecaps, his cap shielding what little of his face Octavia had hoped to capture. In stark contrast with the low volume of his sorrow, his shoulders shook violently. Either he’d gotten most of it out of his system, or he was holding back. Both were equally heartbreaking to consider.
How long he’d been there was beyond her. Her approach was quiet, for how his soft sobs still drowned out her footsteps. Octavia feared she’d startle him, somewhat. She could call out to him, touch him, or let him grieve in peace. If nothing else, she knew he was safe. That was her own peace, by comparison. Still, to leave felt almost cruel--with or without Josiah’s disapproval awaiting outside. She fidgeted anxiously, staring at his pain from a distance.
“Harper,” she finally murmured, “I’m here.”
He hardly reacted. Even so, she caught the slightest movement of his head and the tiniest stifling of his sobs. She settled in beside him, lowering herself with care onto the creaking springs. Ideally, the frame wouldn’t snap beneath the weight of both of them together.
“I’m sorry,” Octavia offered softly. “About everything. I…shouldn’t have said anything.”
Harper answered in audible tears alone, quiet as they continued to be. Octavia wrung the hem of her dress uncomfortably.
“I…know what it’s like to want to know the truth. When you lose someone like that and you don’t get your answers, it’s one of the worst feelings in the world. I wouldn’t wish it on anyone.”
What sobs had been eternal calmed at last. Harper fell silent, shuddering inhales taking the place of deeper sorrow as his shoulders shook. He kept his head down all the while.
“We haven’t been through the same thing. I know that, and I know our situations are a lot different, but I still know what it’s like to need that closure. I know how it feels to stay up every night wondering what happened, and how hard it is to get through some days because you don’t know the truth. I know how it can…ruin you.”
Harper raised his head in the slightest, wide pupils just barely peeking out from between his bangs. His veiled gaze drifted to her, exhausted and pained as it swam with ever more tears.
Octavia exhaled heavily, casting her eyes at her boots. “I also know how the truth can kill you inside once you have it. For that, I’m sorry. I should’ve known better.”
“I asked,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “I thought I was ready. I just didn’t think it would be like that.”
“Neither did I. No one did. How could they?”
“It doesn’t make any sense,” Harper said louder, trembling as he slowly uncurled from his ball. “I just…don’t understand. They didn’t do anything wrong. Why them?”
Octavia shook her head. “I don’t know. I don’t understand a lot of what’s been going on with that…situation.”
Choosing her words with care didn’t ease the knot in her stomach at all. Viola had been honest enough about the crimes of Vincent Vacanti, whether or not they were Octavia’s business to begin with. The sickening privilege of the Ambassador was a curse, and yet the full context still eluded her even now. There was no good time and place for questions anymore. Every second left that particular wound growing ever more gaping.
“I just thought I was over it,” he whispered once more.
“It’s not something you ever really get over,” Octavia said.
“I don’t know if I hurt Viola. I don’t know how to feel around Viola. I know she didn’t do anything. I know that, but…”
Octavia shook her head. “I get it. If you need time, you need time. I think she’d understand, in her own way.”
She couldn’t ask anything more of him, for Viola’s sake or otherwise. Sadness was more manageable than ire, if nothing else.
“What were they like?”
“Huh?”
“Your parents. What kind of people were they?” Octavia asked quietly.
Harper folded his hands in his lap, his eyes still scraping the ruined floor. “My…dad was gentle. He wasn’t afraid to love, and he loved me and my mom harder than words could ever describe. He was funny. He always made me laugh, even when I was crying my eyes out about something silly or another. He spoiled me. Probably shouldn’t have, but that’s just how he was. If I wanted to do something, he’d never stop me. He’d be my biggest fan.”
He paused for a moment before continuing. “And my mom, she was…incredible. She could sing, she could cook, she could sew, she actually made most of my clothes. She was a tailor by trade, and the best damn tailor I’ve ever seen to this day. Maybe I’m biased, I think I deserve that. She was like my dad. She’d let me be…well, me. If I really set my mind to something, she’d always have my back. She loved teaching me little things about life. Just like my dad, her love was endless. We were so…happy. I was happy.”
Octavia smiled. “They sound wonderful.”
“What was your sister like?”
The smile she’d found slipped from her face in an instant. Harper winced.
“I-If you wanna talk about it,” he stammered. “You don’t ha--”
“She was indescribable,” Octavia breathed. “Nothing I say about her could do her justice. Harper, she was so beautiful. She was amazing, she was talented, and she taught me how hard I could love someone. I see her in everything. She is my everything. She always will be. She was what brought people together, she was the light in every room, she was the one who picked me up when the world knocked me down. I love her. I love her so, so much. She makes me…glad I was born.”
Octavia met Harper’s eyes, conscious of the tears welling up in her own. “I miss her every day I’m alive.”
He smiled a true, genuine smile at last--weak as it was. “Then we’re in the same boat.”
Octavia smeared her sneaking tears along her palms. “You have…a lot of people who care about you, and are worried about you, and want you to be happy. I care about you, and am worried about you, and want you to be happy.”
He tilted his head. “If it’s any consolation, I also care about you, and worry about you, and want you to be happy. You’ve got a lot of people still around who love you, too. And wherever your sister is, I’m sure she still loves you just as much.”
“Just like your parents.”
“Yeah.”
Harper was silent, for a moment, as was she. Quietly, his eyes found the charred flooring below, and his words along with it. “This is…actually where I found her.”
Octavia blinked. “Who?”
He smiled faintly. “Royal Orleans.”
Her eyes widened. “In…here?”
Harper nodded, a muted motion that left his bangs brushing against his eyelashes somewhat. “I…come back here a lot more often than I should. One time, she was just…here. It’s ironic. It’s really ironic, actually. I still think about it sometimes. It’s the only good thing I ever got out of this place after everything that happened.”
Octavia shifted in her seat with slight discomfort. “I’m…sorry. That’s a silver lining, though, right? They have weird ways of finding their Maestros. You know that. I guess that was how she wanted to do it.”
His smile brightened into something much more welcome. “I guess I owe her a ‘thank you’, then. If she hadn’t ended up in here, I don’t think we’d be together right now.”
That, at least, was equally deserving of her own bright smile in return.
For a moment, they were content to drink in each other’s warmth, two beacons of light in the oppression of a ruined home. The silence didn’t come to hurt, and yet it was weighted all the same. It was the first time she’d been alone with him in awhile. Somewhere between spilt blood and ancient flames as she’d been torn today, she had a third concern. It still bothered her more than it should’ve, although whether it would curse him with yet more pain was debatable. Curiosity won. She took her chances.
“Hey, Harper?”
“What’s up?”
“Did you…have a si--”
The words never left her lips in full. Her voice was overshadowed by one of the worst sounds in the world.
It was nothing short of a miracle that she’d escaped it for such a long time. It was a dream alone to believe she could’ve outrun it forever, the ever-present screeching leaving her hands on a collision course with her ears. It couldn’t be now. It couldn’t be here. More than anywhere else, it couldn’t be here.
Harper did the same, recoiling at the sheer volume of agony itself. His eyes widened as he struggled to call above the sound. “Is that--”
“Where is it?” Octavia cried, leaping to her feet.
Harper, again, followed her lead, claiming her hand and tugging towards the hallway. “We need to go, now. I don’t know 100% how this works, but if it’s messed-up memories, I’m sure there were plenty of them in this house on the way out--if you know what I mean.”
She fell into step behind him, surrendering to his panicked guidance as they sprinted down the hall in tandem. Her boots squeaked against the floor, their shoes collectively tormenting the floorboards with each step. The cacophony of suffering incarnate grew ever louder, and dizziness was inescapable. Keeping upright was a trial. Vertigo crashed down upon her, each movement forward leaving her stumbling.
Harper wasn’t immune to the same, his hurried steps wobbling in turn. Still, he gripped her hand tighter, pulling her onwards with yet more force regardless. Dissonance was every bit as torturous as she’d remembered, even by sound alone. Octavia didn’t remember the hall being this long when she came in.
At the very least, untouchable malice incarnate wouldn’t threaten a crumbling house. They finally burst into the salon once more. It took effort to navigate stray debris and beams barring their path, moving as swiftly as was possible given the situation. Her greatest fear had been plunging into the dark, and what luck had spared her from a dim fate faltered.
Light once graciously granted through gaping holes in the masonry stood obstructed. It was obscured, rather, trickling sunshine swallowed whole by choking indigo she’d come to loathe. Billowing violet climbed to scrape far past the ceiling, easily clearing the height of the building through every exit point above. The haze that claimed the structure from within was unrelenting, a variable wall to compensate for those that had weakened. Octavia couldn’t breathe. So, too, could she not escape.
Harper squeezed her hand so tightly that she feared her circulation would halt. Even so, she couldn’t keep herself from doing the same. She threw her other hand over her shoulder, fumbling for whatever zippers she could reach from this angle. Whether or not she’d be able to withdraw the whole instrument like this was debatable. She couldn’t reach it at all.
Octavia tried again, stubborn as she was in clinging to his grasp. Desperate fingers fumbled for the thick material of the outer lining. She found nothing. She shifted her shoulder to shuffle the case. She found nothing. She tipped her head forwards, liberating interloping braids from her back. She found nothing.
She tensed. For once, it was her iron grip that threatened his blood flow. She hardly needed the Dissonance to steal her breath away. With lead seeping into her veins, Octavia's eyes slowly drifted over her shoulder. Of the violin that should’ve called her home, she found nothing.
It was her fault. In her haste to catch up with a grieving boy, she’d forsaken her precious partner along the riverbed. This was what she deserved for being the worst Maestra in the world, maybe. Her heart tumbled lower than her stomach, coming to rest on the filthy floor where it belonged. If she fainted now, she wasn’t sure if it’d be the work of the Dissonance or her own infinite stupidity. Octavia wasn’t the only one. It was the pure and utter opposite of a comfort.
When her frantic gaze snapped to the right, the hand that didn’t grasp her own was aloft and empty. Harper’s palm was upturned and devoid of defense, wide eyes pooling with horror. The fingers brushing against hers trembled fiercely. She wasn’t ignorant to the way his eyes flickered to her own before delving into the writhing indigo before them. She wondered if he was kicking himself just as hard as she was.
“Your room,” Octavia called, raising her voice above the wailing on every side. “The walls, they’re messed up. We can get out that way.”
Harper shook his head, tilting his head sharply towards the hallway. The hazy smoke was fast, and it had trailed in their fleeing footsteps. A corridor once vacant was robbed of passage, replaced in turn by rolling violet that surged yet further. Octavia loathed the way that fate hated her.
Octavia’s eyes darted in each conceivable direction around the room, and still she was no closer to an escape route. Each time she found a dilapidated passage still touched by natural light, the Dissonance could practically hear her thoughts. Sickening indigo served to cut her off, and she was forced to start anew as agony plugged the gap. The world was practically shrinking, sneaking fog rising high and pressing them on every side. A house once painted within by crimson and orange was now splattered with nothing but violet. She’d long since surpassed “trapped”. She was ensnared in agony itself.
“What…do we do?” Harper asked, loud and soft all at once.
Octavia gritted her teeth, grasping for oxygen in the face of panic. “W-We could hold our breath and run through it, maybe. You know this house, right? T-There’s holes in the…walls in certain places, are we c-close to one?”
Her nerves, once iron, were rapidly crumbling. In that way, she matched her potential gravesite. All along, Harper had never once surrendered her hand. She only remembered the moment a second warm touch settled upon her fingers. Octavia initially jolted at the feeling, her eyes snapping downwards in alarm.
“It’s okay,” he offered, drawing nearer to her. “I don’t mind.”
She bit her lip. “Don’t mind what?”
Harper smiled weakly, his shimmering eyes meeting her own. “These are my parents’ memories, right? They’re all messed up, and I don’t know where they’ve been hiding all this time, but maybe they’re here for a reason. I don’t mind if this is…how I go.”
Octavia recoiled, battling the urge to pull away. “Absolutely not! I’ll f-figure something out, I swear!”
She was tired. She was dizzy. Her vision was blurring. Above all else, she was terrified. She couldn’t fathom how Harper could forge a smile in the midst of suffering on every side. She couldn’t fathom how he could manage every peaceful word that left his lips.
Harper shook his head. “I just wish you didn’t have to come with me.”
Octavia jerked her hand free from his touch, grasping his shoulders in tandem. Keeping her focus was a struggle, for how what miniscule light they still clung to slowly began to dim. “If you give up, I’ll kill you myself! You’re better than that!”
“There’s a lot of things I wish I got the chance to tell you, you know,” he murmured. Were it not for the distance at which they stood, his faltering voice would’ve been inaudible.
“We’re gonna run through it, okay? Don’t let go of my hand,” she ordered.
It was his turn to shake his head. “I’ll cheer you on if you try. Do your best. I believe in you.”
“I’m not going without you, idiot! Don’t let go of my friggin’ hand, alright?” she cried, her voice trembling as fiercely as her fingers. She cupped either side of his face instead, glaring daggers deep into his defeated eyes.
“You know more about this stuff than me. What…happens now? What happens if you touch it? Does it hurt?”
She somewhat knew the answer to this. Granted, her circumstances had been substantially different. From what she was aware, becoming Dissonant and succumbing to Dissonance itself were two varying flavors of agony. She’d just barely conquered the former, and it had taken divine intervention to do so. She feared the latter with all of her heart, and the answer was completely out of reach. Octavia shook her head.
“Worry about that when we make it out of here, okay?” she shouted. “Hold onto me if you need to! Do you need me to carry you? We need to go now!”
Harper’s eyes closed gently, freed from the harsh gaze pinning him in place. “Octavia, I’m…really tired. I’m gonna go to sleep for a bit, alright?”
Drained and absolutely exhausted, dizzy and nauseous, lightheaded and battling double vision, Octavia could hardly stand. It took everything she had to keep her eyes open, and yet more so to keep her hands clasping Harper’s face. “Don’t you dare go out on me! Stay awake! Please, Harper, you can’t!”
And somehow, surrounded by suffering, he still smiled for her.
“Thank you. For…everything.”
What smoke-free circle she’d claimed was all but gone, and rolling agony pressed harshly at her back. The sensation left her skin outright burning. She’d never truly, in full, made physical contact with Dissonance. She’d made it herself on an occasion she fought to forget, that much was true. Still, raw Dissonance hadn’t once wrapped her up in its grasp. The smog against her body was searing and chilling all at once, sharp and soft in a manner as indescribable as it was confusing. It was an experience just as disorienting as the mist itself.
Octavia could at least say, with certainty, that it hurt. It really, really hurt. She’d resisted every blunting symptom, and she’d perhaps made her pain worse on her own. Her senses were still too sharp, and she failed to block out the sting of agony incarnate. At the worst time, she could understand submission to a violet fate.
To be fair, it wasn’t as though a normal person could see it coming. To be assailed this way without a meaningful explanation was petrifying in concept alone. As to whether or not a visual would’ve been more terrifying, she wasn’t certain. She didn’t particularly want to weigh the two.
If it hurt this severely on the outside alone, she very much did not want any of it inside of her. She couldn’t fathom the idea. She didn’t want to. Of all the ways she’d died so far, the worst possible option was surely the one so standard in her world. The moment the smoky haze coagulated, twisting into the most wispy of tendrils, she knew what would come next. She hadn’t expected it to go for Harper first.
It drifted towards his back in full with a tantalizing slowness, forgoing subtle flickers. It was offset only by the speed at which her heart struggled to outrace what was left of her murky thoughts. Harper was barely on his feet, his weight sustained only by her desperate attempts to keep him upright as he slipped into unconsciousness. When he finally slid to the floor with a soft thud, rolling sideways onto the charred hardwood, Octavia, too, threw herself down on top of him.
Shielding Harper’s body with her own was a reflex. Crawling towards the oncoming Dissonance was just the same as it advanced on him. Even inches from her face, she staggered to stand upright on her knees. Unflinching, she threw her arms wide on either side. Octavia gritted her teeth, narrowed her blurring eyes, and screamed over the intolerable screeching that rattled her eardrums.
“I’m the Ambassador, damn it! Come at me!”
She could conjure all the bluster she wanted. It wouldn’t change what was next. Regardless, she wouldn’t leave his side for a single moment. She’d already died five times. Legitimate or not, she could handle one more.
Do you mean what you say, then?
Octavia had never heard that voice in her life.
It wasn’t Lyra, nor was it Brava. It wasn’t Orleanna, nor Mente, nor Aste. With certainty, it wasn’t Stratos. Even so, loud and unmistakable, she heard it above the noise as it wove through every thought. Soft and firm all at once, smooth masculinity was clear in a way that gave Stradivaria competition.
“I do!” she shouted back. She didn’t dare question it.
You understand what such a decision entails, correct?
“I made my choice a long time ago!” she answered. Her darkening vision had left the Dissonance almost invisible, so near that she could feel its painful aura flickering against her face. “I’m not going back on that now!”
Once you make your choice, you cannot rescind it. Do you accept those terms? This is my final warning of courtesy to you.
“I’ll do whatever it takes to protect the people I love! Give me your strength!” she yelled.
Then I will lend you my essence. Use it wisely, oh child who has seen agony.
Octavia squeezed her useless eyes shut, turning her head away from the approaching Dissonance. It would earn her only a moment of distance, and yet it was a moment more all the same. She held her breath. She prayed for a miracle. If not for her sake, she would pray for the kind boy below her who deserved the world.
Crackling overthrew the shrill screeching that had dominated a broken home forever. The air shifted, somewhat, the sound accompanied by a steady hum in turn. Dry and hot, the endless chill subsided, replaced by something Octavia couldn’t quite pinpoint. The feeling was uncomfortable, every hair she possessed rising beneath the fabric of her clothing. Her braids weren’t immune to the same, and strands already frazzled grew more so as they stood high. She opened her eyes hesitantly. If this was her doing, she almost feared it.
The lightning nearly scared her to death.
The sound alone was enough to send her tumbling down on top of Harper’s unconscious body. With a sharp crack, blinding golds struck far too close for her comfort. Octavia screamed, recoiling sharply. Even so, she was eternally grateful for the way by which it hit its mark, the cries of the stricken Dissonance far outdoing her own as it splintered.
It coagulated again, healing its foggy wound. She’d expected that much. It never had the chance to recover in full, cracked in half with much of the same by another ear-shattering strike. Every blasting bolt was still much too near to herself and Harper. Octavia cast her body over the boy’s, doing what she could to guard him from the explosive electricity. The unbearable luminosity was, ironically, cursing her vision with the opposite of a problem she’d had moments before. Her pupils hated her.
Another. Another. Another. Lightning hailed around her, a thunderstorm devoid of rain fizzling to life from nothing. Rippling gold was born in the confines of the house that was rapidly beginning to feel far too small. Each strike cut sharply through deep violet as it wailed, the vicious smoke slowly beginning to dwindle. There was little at which to strike back, for how plasma from on high lay so far out of reach. Octavia was a fair target, by comparison.
What Dissonance bore down upon her was excessive, twisting tendrils unwavering as they rushed towards two fallen Maestros. There was little she could do aside from stare down agony and pray, gripping Harper’s shoulders for dear life. If she was making this happen, she wished with every fiber of her being for it to continue. If they were going to survive, it was all she could count on.
She was blessed, then. Another sharp crack split as it crashed to earth, splintering into sizzling bolts that erupted forth instead. They were razor-edged raindrops, flickering jolts that speared deep into the smoke nearest the Maestros. It did so splendidly, and Octavia’s sigh of relief was eclipsed only by the wails of repulsed agony.
She could’ve sworn it was dwindling. What remained of the Dissonance was lessening with each and every strike of violent electricity enveloping the humming room. The salon practically pulsed, the mixture of lingering hazy purple and scattering gold somewhat beautiful in its own right. Octavia hated herself for even entertaining the thought.
It took at least two more minutes of the explosive storm for the last of the Dissonance to succumb with a shriek. In its wake came only sizzling wisps, smoky remnants fading and scattering sparks kissing the floorboards. Only once the steady electrical hum drew to a halt did Octavia rise to her knees, not daring to leave Harper’s side. The vicious bolts had earned smoke where they’d struck innocent wood--true, honest smoke, light gray in stark contrast to threatening indigo. That, too, took a moment to subside, obscuring the salon in its own right. It didn’t conceal footsteps, at least.
Octavia wasn’t sure exactly what made her tense. Still, her hands tightened around Harper’s shoulders once more. There was nothing to fear, ultimately. She traded her fear for relief. She traded relief for confusion, in turn--abundant as it was.
She hadn’t seen Etherion in a while. It wasn’t since a hurtful threat had been made against Lyra that she’d laid eyes upon the instrument. Now, the rosewood mouthpiece still dripped with the vestiges of blistering bolts, tiny sparks raining to the floor. The fingers draped skillfully over each key and hole spoke not to novice hands, particularly given the absence of any shaking or trembling to be seen. Octavia’s eyes widened. Sharper even than the spearing lightning of his song, there was one revelation that struck harder.
“He wasn’t talking to you, idiot,” Josiah said with a hint of aggravation. “He was talking to me.”