River’s little cottage was somewhat more spacious than her own, although she could largely chalk that up to the lack of Maestros crowding into one structure simultaneously. It hardly mattered. It was her fault for stealing that singular plus from him, given the way they’d all somehow managed to make themselves comfortable at once.

They were a collective party of ten shoveled into one cozy room--too cozy, really, relative to the close proximity they’d ended up in within the confines of the salon. For the life of her, Octavia couldn’t figure out why he’d insisted on meeting inside rather than in one of the many, many, many spacious and open natural areas of the settlement. A bit of sunshine had never killed anybody--save for maybe Viola.

“How many tolls have you witnessed?” River asked calmly.

She’d already answered this question once, although she was still somewhat confused as to how to word it correctly. “I’ve…witnessed all of the tolls for seven Harmonial Instruments. I haven’t counted how many individual tolls it took between all of them combined.”

He nodded. “And as to guiding any of them?”

“Two,” Octavia answered.

“You…witnessed seven, but you only guided two?” Francisco interrupted. “How did that work?”

Octavia shifted in her seat. “I witnessed all of ours. If something happens, I can let them go whenever I want. I would’ve had to see their tolls eventually, so I just…got them over with.”

Francisco raised an eyebrow. “And the Muses just…agreed to that?”

It was Octavia’s turn to nod. “They said they’ll stay until we’re done. We need all the help we can get. It’d be tricky to do this without…well, being a Maestra.”

“That makes enough sense,” River said. “At the very least, that’s seven less to worry about in terms of tolls alone. By comparison, guiding is the easy part, I’d assume.”

She smiled. “I completely agree.”

“Forty-seven, right?” Josiah asked, the room slowly flooding with the sound of relentless lead scratching innocent paper.

“Yeah,” River said.

He pointed the eraser end of his pencil at the Spirited boy lazily. “What are you gonna do when you run out? That still leaves quite a few to find.”

“We know where more of them are that don’t live in Tacell,” Briar spoke on River’s behalf. “There’s a handful in Selbright alone. The rest are scattered around Mezzoria. We couldn’t exactly convince them to pack up their lives and move out into the middle of nowhere.”

“Looks like you’re getting run over after all,” Harper teased, elbowing Josiah playfully.

The smooth leather of Josiah’s journal overhead was only slightly blunted by the fabric of Harper's cap, the sudden harsh impact still more than enough to draw a yelp of pain. Octavia smirked. He deserved it, slightly.

“We’re gonna have to travel to them ourselves?” Viola clarified on the tail end of Harper’s implications--jeering as they’d been.

River shook his head. “Don’t worry about that. We’ll find a way to get them here, temporarily or otherwise. We won’t waste time dragging the Ambassador all over the continent.”

“Plus, it’s kind of dangerous,” Francisco added with a wince. “Gonna be hard to completely ensure her safety if we’re all over the place like that. At least here, we’re good.”

Octavia frowned. “I can stay safe. I can protect myself, I promise.”

“It’s not that we don’t trust you,” River specified quickly. “We just need to be as careful about this as possible. We can’t afford for anything to happen to you.”

“Nothing’s going to happen to me,” she argued.

“Could you, like, please count how many times we’ve almost died in the past two months?” Renato muttered. “Because I think it’s definitely over ten, at this point.”

Octavia glared at him, detrimental to her case as he was. He shrugged innocently.

“Don’t worry,” Madrigal tried with a bright smile. “If all of the Maestros come here instead, that leaves you with lots more time to concentrate on letting the Muses go. We’ll be all done even sooner!”

Octavia fished for a smile of her own in response, settling on something weak but true. “I suppose. I’ll…do whatever you guys think is best.”

“So, how many do you know of outside of Tacell, then?” Josiah prompted once more. Again, his journal had transformed from a weapon of aggravation back into a tool of balanced agendas.

“Twenty-three,” River said.

Josiah scratched away at the paper for a moment quietly. “Nineteen. That leaves nineteen Maestros unaccounted for.”

Briar nodded. “We have a plan for that, too. The gift of the Soulful is extremely powerful, if used correctly. In conjunction with my Apex, we’ll be able to track the rest of them down one by one.”

Viola’s eyes widened. “Across Mezzoria? That far?”

He smiled. “Once you get used to the feeling, it gets easier to follow. It gets stronger, and you can feel it further and further. You’re Soulful, too, right?”

“Y-Yeah. I…haven’t used my gift that often, though.”

“You’ll get accustomed to it with more practice. Eventually, you should be able to sense Maestros from much greater distances. You’d be a huge help, if you wanted to assist.”

Viola sat up straight, nearly kicking Octavia in the process as she stiffened on the couch. “I-I’d love to! I’ll do whatever I can to--”

“Seventeen.”

His math had changed, interrupting as it was. All eyes fell to the boy who’d long since stopped writing, instead staring blankly into lead-lined pages he’d so carefully filled.

Viola cocked her head. “What?”

Josiah inhaled slowly, exhaling much the same as he rolled his pencil between his fingers. “Seventeen. There’s…seventeen unaccounted for. I made a mistake.”

River eyed him with caution. “What…do you mean?”

Josiah closed his eyes as he spoke, taking yet another full deep breath. “There are…two Harmonial Instruments that we know the location of. One has a Maestro. One doesn’t. One of them is…going to be extremely difficult to get to.”

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

She really, really did not want to throw up on the carpet. The cottage was too pristine for that. Her budding impression as the Ambassador was still too fragile for that. Octavia's heart was already pounding.

“Which ones?” Briar pressed.

Josiah still declined to open his eyes with each word, tilting his head towards the floor somewhat. “They go by Valkyrie’s Call and Seraphim’s Call, respectively. They’re stationary. You literally can’t miss them, I promise, and they’re not going anywhere anytime soon. The former is…viable, technically, with some effort. There’s a bit of a barrier to getting to it, but nothing impossible.”

Octavia didn’t want to be talking about this. Why were they talking about this? If she got up and left, would anyone care? Could they talk about it without her, important as it was? It wasn’t as though she needed to actually go there to hear the bell cry out to her, anyway. She was already starting to get a good dose of that right here and now.

“The latter is going to be a nightmare to access,” Josiah continued quietly.

Sitting perfectly still was absolutely agonizing. She struggled to breathe, or to throw her thoughts anywhere besides his words. Octavia so desperately wished he would stop talking. This was supposed to be her safest place, and he was making it dangerous. He was making it loud. He was making it impossibly loud.

If she covered her ears right now, would the motion draw too much attention? If she lost her breath in full, would she be questioned all the way through her struggle to get it back? Would they stare at her? Would they ask and pry? They were both stationary, after all. No amount of powerful gifts put to use would bring them to her waiting hands. Would she have to go back? She didn’t want to go back. She didn’t want to go back. She didn’t want to go back.

“Hey.”

Her terrified eyes snapped upwards, clinging to anything that wasn’t Josiah’s voice. The one she found was soft and firm all the same, weaving its way skillfully between the bells. Even across the room, reclined and relaxed as he was, Octavia’s confidant locked eyes with her and refused to let go.

“Maybe we should sweat the small stuff first,” Renato offered softly. “Save the trickier stuff for later. Let’s worry about the things we can deal with right here and now. Shove that one…off to the side for a bit and come back to it.”

His words were meant for Josiah, and still he refused to tear his gaze from hers. Even as he crossed his legs and arms comfortably, unhurried and composed, his gentle focus still lingered on Octavia alone. Renato mouthed her name in silence. She mouthed his back. Again. Again.

If Josiah had qualms with Renato’s interruption, he didn’t show it. Instead, he tilted his head back with a sigh. “Yeah. That’s fair. Cross that bridge when we get to it. Just…keep it in mind, I guess.”

“I’d recommend starting with the ones here,” River said. “There’s a handful that either shouldn’t be Maestros or don’t want to be Maestros. There’s a few of them in Selbright, too. At the very least, those are easy to get to.”

“What do you mean by ‘shouldn’t be’?” Harper asked. “Not wanting to be a Maestro, I can understand, but…‘shouldn’t’?”

River, too, sighed. “Too young. Too sick. Too frail. There are some Muses that weren’t very…picky about their partners, and the burden that fell on those Maestros as a result was severe. They don’t leave until they absolutely have to, right up until their Maestro can’t play anymore. Otherwise, there’s not a whole lot else that matters.”

Harper winced. “I knew a young Maestro once. He’s not one anymore, thankfully, but I was honestly surprised he became a Maestro at his age. I was surprised there wasn’t a limit. For him to have to pay tolls on top of that was…cruel. He’s just a kid.”

“That’s where having the Ambassador around could do a lot of good,” Francisco reassured. “It’s one way she could help immediately. Even just one person at a time would be a huge blessing. There’s no rush. Once we go through all of those, we can move on to something else.”

“Has everyone here paid their tolls?” Madrigal asked. For a question so heavy, the calmness with which she said it was vehemently jarring.

It was Mint, of all people, who nodded. Again, Briar filled in the blanks for her. “We checked. Of the ones in Tacell, everyone has, at this point--ourselves included. As to how many tolls for each person, we’re not actually sure. At the very least, you won’t have to worry about that.”

“We don’t really have a set schedule for all of this,” Francisco admitted. “It’s mostly at your leisure. Like we said, we don’t know how many tolls there are to deal with, so pace yourself. Don’t get burned out. If this takes weeks, it takes weeks. If this takes months, it takes months. If it takes longer than that, so be it. Right, River?”

River smiled. “There’s no rush. This is more of a framework. If you have any ideas as to how to make this all go smoother, we’re always listening. We all want whatever works best for you.”

Octavia's best attempts to feign a smile in response were completely and utterly in vain. She gave up quickly. “I-I appreciate it. I’ll…do my best. I hope it doesn’t take too long.”

Francisco shrugged, relaxing into his seat somewhat as he stretched. “I mean, that’s partially on us, too. It’s our fault if we take too long dragging more Maestros here. We’re just as at risk of holding you up. We’ll try to deliver as best as we can with what we’ve got.”

“Can I ask something?” Viola interrupted. He nodded.

Given his preceding sentence, Octavia was genuinely surprised it wasn’t related to her gift again. “Is there…any danger in Tacell? You know, in terms of Dissonance?”

Briar shook his head. “We’ve never actually seen any out here--at least, not in the time the four of us have lived here. We’ve been lucky. Here’s hoping it stays that way.”

“Never anything wrong with being prepared, though,” River added.

Viola nodded in turn. “I agree. Still, it’s a bit of a relief to hear.”

Octavia didn’t even want to put any ideas as to the contrary into the open air. She, too, threw her heart behind believing in the safety and protection of Tacell without question. For a place that was made for her, specifically, she wouldn’t feel right if she didn’t at least do her part to keep it a safe haven.

“You can start whenever you’re ready,” River continued, the same vibrant seafoam entrusted to Octavia once more. “Just let us know, and we’ll…set you up with people to start with. It doesn’t have to be today. We’ll always be around, so take your time.”

Octavia nodded weakly. “I’ll…I might wait until tomorrow to start. Is that okay?”

His familiar smile was a comfort. “Absolutely. Get some rest. As much as you need.”

It had nothing to do with rest. It had everything to do with her inability to get the mental image of the bell that awaited her touch out of her mind. No amount of distraction was eradicating the thought in full, and it flared up repeatedly no matter how many times she struggled to weaponize her mantra. Try as she might, she was thinking about it.

Under no circumstances could she handle tolls like this. Octavia could hardly handle talking like this. It wasn’t Josiah’s fault--he wasn’t even technically wrong. She wondered if there was a subtle, not at all weird way of seeking time with Renato, given his insistence on being present for her moments of mental crisis. Her head felt like it was going to explode.

If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

Octavia at least opted to wait until she was outside, the setting sun stinging her pupils as she struggled to adjust. She clutched at Stradivaria’s straps around her shoulders for comfort. That, too, did little to ease her worries. Was it better to simply go to Velrose and get it over with? Was it even possible to get it over with in the first place? How long could she put it off for? Could she do them last? Why did he have to ask? Why, right now, did he have to ask?

Help me.

Octavia screeched to a halt so quickly that she nearly tripped. Her boots became tangled in the blades of grass that scuffed her soles, and she stumbled somewhat. Stradivaria’s case almost bumped into her head, and she in turn almost bumped into Viola. That wasn’t Stradivaria. She checked.

Did you hear that?

What is it?

You…didn’t hear it, then?

What is it that you heard?

Octavia tensed. Someone was calling for me, I think.

Stratos paused. I heard nothing.

“Is everything okay?” Viola asked, still somewhat taken aback after nearly tripping herself.

“Y-Yeah,” Octavia stammered, averting her eyes. “Just…almost stepped on something. Sorry.”

Viola tilted her head. “Watch your step, then.”

It didn’t happen again--neither losing her balance nor hearing a voice unseen once more. Still, the way two words had snuck their way between the bong of every bell haunting her inside was a miracle. Somehow, “don’t think about it” was only her third loudest echo, for once. There was solace to be found in confusion. She inhaled. She exhaled.

Octavia scanned, at least briefly, with zero success. Beneath the dying day, there was little of note--let alone anyone of note. She’d seen a handful of presumed Maestros out on occasion, largely at complete random. Still, she was fruitless in pinning two syllables to any interlopers in the vicinity. Where once was distress now sat frustration, somewhat. With forty-seven new possible answers, not counting the handful she could already rule out, she’d have her work cut out for her with taking a shot in the dark.

Octavia sighed. At the very least, this she was fine with thinking about. She thought about it for longer than she was willing to admit.

----------------------------------------

There had once been a time when the thought of performing the Witnessing was downright terrifying, enough to make her blood run cold and send jolts of horror down her spine. To find a sense of calm, instead, where she’d previously been petrified almost brought a sense of pride to Octavia’s heart. She wondered if River had been right about a need for basic rest, a single night’s sleep enough to reset the bells and give her a clean slate. She didn’t know what day it was. Tacell didn’t have a church. As such, it didn’t matter one bit.

It was true that there was no rush, granted. That sentiment had been reiterated enough by the others not long after their prior congregation. For how far they’d come, though, the idea of sitting around and struggling to mentally prepare would surely only bring about more anxiety. If she went slow, if she truly sifted through the remaining eighty-nine Harmonial Instruments one by one, she’d most definitely be fine. There were some that Octavia dared not think about right now. She wished she wouldn’t need to think about them ever.

That left her with her choice of what was readily available--or River’s choice, rather, a decision she’d opted to place in his hands instead. She’d been offered company, and had accepted it, for once. Her first toll in Tacell, specifically, was at least mildly daunting by virtue of her locale alone. With the Ensemble watching in tandem, it was worse. Faith was there. Really, she had a full audience, an Ambassador under too many watchful eyes to suppress her sweat and stress. Dying was going to be the easy part, provided she could do it correctly.

It was an oboe. It was actually quite cute. She chalked that up, partially, to the exceedingly shocking stature of the small child who claimed it. With the way she nervously clutched the joints beneath her tiny fingers, she was perhaps the only person more anxious than Octavia.

“This is Valerie,” River introduced. “She’s…well, she’s a good first step, if you’re ready.”

The fact that Octavia had to physically bend down to meet the child’s eyes wasn't a good sign. She crafted the most genuine smile she could, given the unsettling circumstances. She was most definitely younger than Domino, and far frailer.

“Hi, Valerie, it’s nice to meet you,” she offered gently. “My name’s Octavia. I’m the Ambassador.”

The child didn’t return her smile. Still, for as closely as she hugged her instrument to her chest, she at least did what she could to return a greeting. “Hi, Ambassador,” she murmured.

Something about her name being lost beneath her title felt almost uncomfortable. Octavia swallowed the feeling. “I like your hair clip. It’s very pretty.”

The girl, still, withheld the smile Octavia was starting to long for. “Thank you.”

Her eyes flickered downwards into the child’s hands. “What’s your partner’s name?”

Valerie shifted in place uncomfortably. “S-Sienna Eternal.”

Even now, Octavia refused to back down from her best shot at beaming. “That’s a really pretty name, too. I’m sure you’re a great partner.”

She shook her head. “I don’t…want to be a Maestra anymore. It’s scary.”

Given her age, Octavia couldn't even slightly blame the child. “It’s okay. I understand.”

She cast her eyes as subtly as she could to River, straightening up with more effort than was preferable. “Um, what’s her legacy?”

“Soulful.”

And when the answer came from anyone but, Octavia blinked. It took her a moment to turn her head.

“What?”

Viola tensed. “She’s…Soulful.”

Octavia raised an eyebrow. “You’ve met her already?”

The tiny child shook her head, even out of the line of fire of Octavia’s words as she was. Granted, Viola, too, emulated the same motion.

“Then…how do you…”

Viola shrugged uncomfortably. “I…have a feeling. I just…know.”

Octavia peered at River once more. His bright smile was more than welcome, if not somewhat confusing. “No, you’re correct. She’s Soulful.”

A significant number of gazes aside from Octavia’s own trailed to Viola in turn. If Valerie’s followed along, it was surely a byproduct of the atmosphere alone. For how wide with surprise Octavia’s eyes were, Viola’s shock outdid the Ambassador's own.

River’s praise was perhaps even more baffling. “Well done.”

Octavia must’ve exchanged glances of astonishment with Viola dozens of times over before it clicked. It hit Octavia first, and her increase in volume was--regretfully--enough to make the tiny Maestra at her side flinch. She couldn’t help it.

“I-Is that new?” Octavia nearly cried.

Viola shook her head in disbelief. “I don’t know! I’ve never done that before!”

River’s calm demeanor infinitely outdid them both, beaming as he was. “Briar said he was surprised the first time it happened, too. I imagine it’s convenient. I envy it, a bit.”

Viola’s smile was explosive. Octavia adored it.

“This little one is Soulful, yes,” River continued. “We don’t know her very well, personally. I wish I could say otherwise.”

Octavia’s face slowly fell--both secondary to the implications of a soul of ice and her accidental neglect of the situation. Granted, it wasn’t the worst legacy that could besiege the hands of a child so young. Still, it more than explained the fear that accompanied her own power. She didn’t give it more thought than was necessary. The concept of the girl suffering under the weight of such strength was more painful than the concept of her toll. Octavia crouched down in the slightest once again.

“Do you want to say bye to your partner? We can say bye together so they can go home. Do you want them to go home now?”

Valerie tensed. Octavia was somewhat surprised when the child raised her wide eyes to River instead. He rubbed her head gently, his words equally so.

“Remember what I said about the Ambassador? She can let Silvestra go home.”

“Will she be mad at me?” Valerie whispered.

River shook his head. “Of course not. She wants to go home, too.”

“Can I go home after?”

“We’ll take you home, don’t worry. It’ll be alright.”

When she turned to face Octavia once more, the glass in her eyes stung to see. Octavia prayed with all of her heart that the child didn’t cry. “Is it gonna hurt?”

She, too, shook her head, albeit far more fervently. “Not at all. You’re not going to feel a thing. Everything is gonna be on me. All I need you to do is hold out your partner. Can you do that?”

Valerie gave a meek nod. With her two little hands, she obliged to the best of her ability, every silver key glistening beautifully as it captured the sun along the way. Octavia’s quest to elicit a single smile was fruitless in the face of fear and uncertainty. Still, she refused to stop trying.

Octavia straightened up, ignoring the way her knees ached somewhat from kneeling for so long. “You want to go home, don’t you?”

Her words weren't for the child, but for the Muse that arose from nothing to greet her. Her luster spoke to ceruleans she’d come to associate with confidence, if not arrogance. Of grace, she was plentiful, by striking comparison. It wasn’t her fault that she far outmatched the child's size. Her otherwise-average stature was highly off-putting in the presence of the tiny partner she’d settled upon. She was slender, soft, as delicate as the snowflakes surely born of her legacy. She was somewhat to be resented, given the kind of Muse who would curse such a small child with such a tremendous burden.

Her timid bow, then, was almost tainted. “I offer my greetings to the Ambassador. I am Silvestra.”

Octavia found her smile strained. For Valerie’s sake, she struggled to keep it at all, her usual greeting reciprocated instead of words of reproach. “Nice to meet you.”

The Ambassador readied her fingers, shockingly still relative to the weight of the task to follow. She almost felt bad for rushing. “Let’s get you on your way. Whenever you’re ready.”

She nodded again, apparently unshaken by Octavia’s pacing. “Valerie Hyth, your toll has been paid once over. Now, Ambassador, see through the eyes of the one who paid the toll.”

The idea of a child having a toll in the first place would never stop being viciously unsettling. If nothing else, it wasn’t three this time. She prayed upon a star that no blood would be spilt on this tiny girl’s hands, trembling as she saw them. It was those terrified fingers that Octavia reassuringly touched first--long before her grace ever fell to that which had cursed the child in the first place. Were it not for the speed of the “fall”, she surely would’ve felt the vibrations of the child’s shaking beneath her skin.

Usually, she would hesitate. It was like Domino, in a way, in that her fears came second to the needs of one far more vulnerable than herself. Absent as they were, for now, it felt easier. Octavia smiled all the way down, any response she could hope for muted by the dark.

◆ ◆ ◆

And, in a way, it was easier.

It was a lot easier, actually.

Octavia rolled the dice on every single toll she witnessed, every single pair of tragic shoes she stepped into. There was no “good luck” or “bad luck”, necessarily, for how only death awaited at the end of her many flashes and fragments. Sometimes, it was better to find strangers. As to others, it was better to watch through familiar eyes. Here in Tacell, she would almost definitely encounter the former alone, given the many strangers she was sure to greet in the world of the living.

There was detachment that came with those she didn’t know, those that couldn't be claimed by any person near and dear to her. It wasn’t at all that she didn’t care, nor that she didn’t grieve on this girl’s behalf. Ultimately, a toll was a toll, and what the child had seen was surely scarring in every way upon her heart. The ease came not from content alone, emboldened in turn by the knowledge that Octavia was doing something good.

Perhaps that was what made it feel so quick. It wasn’t painless, by any means--Dissonance never was, unseen or otherwise. It was the first toll she’d encountered in such a way, forced to piece together a conclusion by context alone. Her stranger’s relationship to this child was perhaps just as obscure, although familial ties were a given. Octavia could hear the screeching. She could see the stumbling. She could infer the dizziness, the fatigue, the average manifestation of what would masquerade in every way as a vicious illness.

She’d never seen a death by Dissonance alone, although she’d known it to be possible with prolonged exposure. Octavia wondered what a passerby would’ve thought when they found her stranger. She wondered what this child would’ve thought when she learned of the news. She wondered if this little Maestra had ever pieced the puzzle together in the first place, whether firsthand in the aftermath or otherwise. Octavia wondered if it hurt. Josiah hadn’t fully given her the chance to find out last time, her minor contact in a ruined home somewhat enough of an indicator.

It could’ve been a worse end. Really, it was one of her simplest yet. To see this girl’s happiness snatched away by that which went unseen instead burned. For her sake, Octavia resolved to hold what happiness she had found as close to her heart as she could, even long after the toll had concluded. There were plenty of smiles in here, at least.

◆ ◆ ◆

It was the most peaceful she’d ever come up. It really and truly was getting easier. With certainty, this wasn't the time for pride, and yet Octavia felt aglow with something she couldn’t place. A small part of her, too, was satisfied with the shred of grace she’d managed to cling to as the Ambassador, her audience enraptured by every motion of her grotesque ceremony. It wasn’t as though they’d know if she messed up, to be fair.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Octavia reassured softly, the same smile still settled on her lips forever.

Valerie shook her head, her partner’s body jostling somewhat in her little palms as she did so.

Octavia raised her attention high. “Are you…ready, then?”

The Soulful Muse nodded. Even now, she didn’t question Octavia’s urgency. There was a part of Octavia that wondered if she cared at all. She didn’t dare entertain it. “At your leisure, Ambassador. Know that I am in your debt, as are we all.”

Again did Octavia return to the child’s level, forsaking her knees in the process. “Do you have anything you want to say to your partner before she goes home? Now’s the time to say bye.”

Valerie hesitated. Her own little eyes trailed upwards slowly, wide and fearful even now. “I’m sorry,” she murmured. “I wasn’t a good partner for you.”

The Muse tilted her head. “You were a wonderful partner, my child. I am sorry that I have granted you such a heavy burden. It was…not my intent.”

Octavia wished she could believe more in the Muse’s words. The girl could hardly stretch her still-growing fingers all the way across each key. If Valerie had the same discontent, it didn’t show one bit. Octavia continued to pray, and pray, and pray with all of her heart for the child’s tears to remain at bay. Domino’s own had already broken her heart enough.

“I didn’t play with you very much,” Valerie said sadly. “Are you mad at me?”

“I could never be,” the Muse reassured. “I am grateful for the concern you have given to my soul. You will surely grow to suit your legacy, with so lovely a soul as you, too, possess.”

Her words meant little, apparently--or, at least, they appeared to. “Be safe,” Valerie said. “Tell everyone at your home that Valerie said hi.”

“I shall.”

Octavia’s eyes darted back and forth between them, hunting for yet more exchanged farewells where she only found silence. It was her cue. She didn’t ask permission. Ultimately, she was in charge, and it felt strange to consider. Her fingers settled delicately once again atop the warm instrument offered to her.

“I have borne witness to your pain,” Octavia began firmly, “and my light guides your passage from the depths of my heart.”

It was still no less breathtaking the third time. Surely, the novelty and splendor wouldn't have faded by the ninety-sixth time, either. She’d watched as the most wonderful scarlet and the most striking gold had been swallowed whole by the very air itself, trickling away into nothing with the beauty of dying stars in the daylight. Now, instead, Octavia found such beauty in the shimmer of crystalline blues, glistening radiance that sparkled brilliantly with each and every speck that escaped the Muse’s form.

She, too, departed with captivating grace, silent and calm as her physical vessel followed suit. Octavia didn’t need to witness the fate of the oboe her skin rested upon, feeling the sudden give that had begun to replace its solid weight. She stared. Valerie did the same, tearless and hopefully garnering some fragment of hope from the splendor of the luminous farewell.

The girl waved. Faint as it was, her Muse waved back. Every motion of the latter left sparkles of cerulean trailing across the open air, a gorgeous parting gift in and of itself. Only then, on the cusp of freedom, did Octavia finally find a smile where she’d begged for one all along.

“Huh,” Harper murmured behind her, settling on a soft smile of his own. “That’s what that looks like.”

“So she’s…returning to Above, then?” Viola whispered, still captivated by the concluding display.

Octavia nodded, even as she refused to peel her eyes away from the smaller smile she chose to cherish. “Yeah. Now, Breileneth and Ethel have some more company. It’s been awhile since they’ve gotten any.”

“They’re gonna get a lot more than that, pretty soon,” Josiah added.

Madrigal beamed. “I’m sure they’ll be so happy.”

Renato ruffled her hair so suddenly that Octavia feared for the structure of her braids. Smoothing them out did little to ease her worries. “Three down, ninety-whatever to go. Progress!”

“Well done, Ambassador,” Briar praised. “You handled that beautifully. I can definitely tell you’ve done this before.”

Octavia shrugged. “It’s…not something I’m entirely used to yet, but I’ve got the hang of it, I think. As long as I don’t have to do a ton of them at once, I’ll be okay. Maybe a…few of them a day or something.”

“Whatever you want,” Francisco offered. “Your place, your pace. We’ve got plenty of people for you, just say the word.”

“We really can get you the dead people planner if you want it,” Renato whispered.

Octavia stifled a laugh. “I’m good, seriously.”

“You did phenomenally,” River spoke softly, his bright smile matching her own. “You’re a wonderful Ambassador. I’m looking forward to working alongside you.”

Octavia blushed somewhat under his heavy praise, her respectfully-spoken title wrapped up in his honeyed words again. “A-And I’m looking forward to working together, too. With everyone.”

Of all the smiles laced with a multitude of emotions that crowned the wake of the departed Muse, his was at least her second favorite. Her first favorite, still, was the one well below her, free and hopeful. It had taken prying and labor that previously left her shaking and breathless. Now, instead, she found only a swelling joy in her heart at the peace she’d brought to someone who’d so desired it. For once, it wasn’t solely the burden of the Muses that she was relieving. Right here, in the warmth of the sun in a world of her own, the Ambassador’s work was just as much of a blessing. It felt good.