She couldn’t concentrate enough to witness tolls for at least a full day. The dread that had finally begun to settle into the pit of Octavia’s stomach was all-consuming, a lingering reminder that had finally killed her high. She’d done her mental math many times over. It was her one justification, time and time again, that she wasn’t a cowardly and useless Ambassador. The most rational part of her was ruthless and brutal, scolding her repeatedly in the hopes of achieving some form of peace. They were just two instruments. They just happened to be in two very unfortunate places. When they were done, they were done, and she’d never have to go back. It would be over in an instant.
It would not, in fact, be over in an instant. The logical part of Octavia screamed the reminder directly into her ears at every possible opportunity.
She wasn’t going to vomit on River’s carpet. She absolutely, under no circumstances, was going to vomit on River’s carpet. She was already miserable enough over the fact that someone had cleaned up after her spilled panic. Every possible candidate for the task was equally humiliating to entertain. Octavia hesitated to look directly at a single one of them--and not solely because there was less oxygen in the air than usual today.
They were waiting on her. It took every ounce of effort in her body to compose herself enough to step into the salon, particularly relative to the amount of gazes that were about to fall on her. She’d already run through a mental list of possible ways to get through the meeting unscathed, and every single option wouldn't serve to keep her safe from harm. Some of them were better than others, at least partially.
She could indulge relentlessly in her tried and true method of name repetition with Renato, although Octavia feared she’d outright stop registering his name as a word by the time she was done today. She could disconnect from her entire body, pretend she wasn’t in the room, and try watching herself from far above. That would leave her distracted and unable to absorb almost anything being said. She could beg Stradivaria to flood her brain with words of comfort, should the bells take precedence--although that would cause largely the same problem.
Octavia didn’t know she was sitting until she was sitting. She hadn’t registered the movement of her feet into the salon. It wasn’t until all eyes had flickered to her at least once that she realized they’d even started. She couldn’t gaze directly at Josiah, a deadly lightning bolt in and of himself that would surely shock her if she came too close. His words were sure to sting her soul soon enough, anyway. They’d given up on concealing his intentions shortly after she'd discovered them. This, then, was the worst possible answer she was going to get.
“Are you okay?”
Of course not. Frankly, the question was insulting. Anyone who could hear her mentally rattling off every toll she would enjoy dying to more than being here wouldn’t have dared to ask.
Octavia couldn’t find a false smile, and she didn’t bother to search for one. She turned her head and looked Harper dead in the eyes. “Yeah. I’m fine.”
She realized her mistake far too late. His sharp gaze softened almost instantly, pooling with something indiscernible. Hers, in turn, widened with just a hint of fear. She stole them back as fast as she could, stiff and paranoid. This was already going horrifically.
When Josiah rested his head in his hands, Octavia knew it would only get worse. “Sorry I keep taking up your time like this.”
River shook his own head. “Not at all. It’s important. You know a lot more about it than I do.”
“I think I’m onto something,” Josiah offered quietly. “I’ve been thinking it over since we got here, honestly. In the last few days, I’ve started thinking harder about it, too. There’s…obstacles that need to be cleared one by one to make this work.”
“I know you said she’ll have to stop performing the Witnessing,” Briar asked. “Why?”
Octavia’s eyes snapped upwards at the vague mention of her responsibility. She wasn’t the only one, the vast majority of her companions equally puzzled. Still, they let him speak.
Josiah raised his head at last. "Getting Seraphim’s Call back is probably going to necessitate a lot more than just everyone in this room, Apexes or not. The more Muses that go, the harder this is going to be. Now is the best possible time to do this. The ones who wouldn’t be able to fight, I can understand. The ones who don’t want to fight, same thing. As for everyone else, we need all the help we can get.”
His eyes fell to her, as piercing and indiscriminate as the lightning in his heart. It made her dizzy. “Do you know how many you’re at, at this point? What you’ve done, what’s left, all of it?”
Octavia’s mouth was painfully dry. Simply getting words out was a trial, even if she’d done the mental math often enough to burn the numbers into her brain. “T-There’s, um…since I got here, uh, eight? So that’s, e-eighty-six, I think, at this point.”
“How many of them were in Tacell?”
She'd known the answer to this, at some point. It was escaping her now. People were looking at her. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t breathe.
No amount of racking her brain for the solution was helping. All of her thoughts were slipping out from beneath her, and Josiah’s sharp eyes absolutely were not doing her any favors. He was supposed to be the smart one. Why wasn’t he keeping track of them? Was he messing with her? This was a bad idea. Why did she agree to this? Why was she here?
The warm hand that slipped so effortlessly into hers made her jump, even as it settled delicately into her lap. Even if she didn’t look, Octavia could feel the way each fingertip brushed against her heated skin as she trembled. The sensation was something to focus on. She didn’t fight it. “Six,” Octavia finally found, clear and crisp.
Josiah didn’t press her any further, throwing the icy stare she hated in River’s direction instead. “You’ve been setting her up with the unwilling ones, right? And the ones that shouldn’t be doing this. How many of those do you have left?”
River paused for a moment. “That we have readily accessible? Maybe another seven. I can think of four more immediately that’ll take some time to bring here. At least one of them is way out in Whitebrook.”
Josiah counted for a moment in silence. “Forty-one Maestros left in Tacell. How many are part of that group that aren’t going to be able to fight if need be?”
“Five.”
“So, thirty-six, then,” he murmured to himself, closing his eyes. “That includes you guys. With us, that’s…still forty-one. Forty-one possible Maestros who’d be able to fight.”
Briar blinked. “Who’d be able to fight…what, exactly?”
Josiah took a deep breath. “Seraphim’s Call is in a place that was sealed off after a catastrophe. An absolutely unfathomable amount of Dissonance was unleashed upon the entire city it was housed in. It even escaped and wreaked havoc on the city above it. The whole place it’s currently in is one giant grave. The…amount of Dissonance that could be down there is beyond belief. That’s to say nothing of whatever’s left over from last time--if anything’s left over.”
Mint recoiled. So, too, did Briar. “That’s…horrible. How did that much Dissonance even show up in the first place?”
Octavia squeezed whatever hand had so willingly entered her line of fire for dear life. When it didn’t flinch, nor pull away, she was simultaneously grateful and surprised. The look Josiah fixed the Soulful boy with was marked by dead eyes, hollow and emotionless.
“Bad memories,” he said plainly. “Same as always, of course.”
“And you think there’s a risk of Dissonance being there just by unsealing this place?” River asked.
Josiah nodded, brushing his bangs out of his face. “We recently had an experience that proved to me exactly how much Dissonance memories from that catastrophe could make,” he continued. “And that was from the ones who made it out.”
“Out of the place where Seraphim’s Call is?”
“Out of the place above it. That’s where Valkyrie’s Call is. They’re adjacent to one another. If we can get to Seraphim’s Call, we can definitely get to Valkyrie’s Call. That’s not necessarily the case the other way around.”
“The same disaster affected both cities?” Briar tried. “There’s…two of them, right?”
“Also, did you say above?” Francisco added incredulously. “Like, one of them’s on top of the other?”
“Yes and yes,” Josiah answered calmly. “The city that shelters Valkyrie’s Call is called Velrose. The city that shelters Seraphim’s Call is called Velpyre.”
Francisco shuddered. “Creepy name.”
Hearing their names explicitly spoken once more was enough to steal Octavia’s breath in full. She squeezed her eyes shut, again torturing the hand that had so unfortunately surrendered to her ruthless grip. She wondered if she was cutting off someone’s circulation. They didn’t care, apparently. Another hand, just as warm, came to settle ever so gently atop her knee. The gesture was comfortable, one thumb tenderly stroking the fabric of her dress in reassurance. She struggled to swallow oxygen, and yet found enough to get by.
“Is…Velrose still inhabited? Or was it just as damaged?” River asked cautiously.
Josiah shook his head. “Velrose is fine, most likely. They had a Maestra to clean up afterwards, and our group did its fair share, too. It was evacuated. I don’t know exactly how many people in Velrose succumbed to the Dissonance. It was a fair amount, if I remember correctly.”
Octavia could think of at least one person, specifically. She fought for her life not to picture the acolyte’s face. She failed miserably. Her head hurt. Even with her eyes shut, the room was far too bright, sunbeams undaunted by curtains finding their way well past her eyelids. The mindless depths of a toll would’ve been a solid reprieve right now, involuntary and murky as they were. Somebody else’s pain would’ve been far preferable to her own. She hoped she wasn’t breathing too loudly.
“It’s okay,” she heard someone whisper into her ear. “I’m here.”
It wasn’t a voice she usually associated with her suffering, nor one she typically heard during her times of emotional crisis--not this flavor, anyway. Curiosity won.
Octavia's opened eyes surrendered to the sun, and she winced as the light flooded her pupils in full. She envied the way Harper could smile under the weight of such a morbid discussion. Still, she was more than thankful for his personal attention. He was warm. He was a good distraction, his physical contact equally so. She wasn’t sure how she felt about him slowly putting the puzzle pieces of her rose-colored pain together, for how hard she’d fought to keep it close to her heart.
“So, then,” River began, “how many people got out of Velpyre?”
Josiah paused. His gaze was as icy as his voice. “You’re looking at him.”
The Ensemble, collectively, could only drink in his words with wide eyes and shallow breaths. Even Mint looked terrified on the boy’s behalf.
“It was…that much?” Francisco muttered fearfully.
Briar, too, was just as shaken. “The whole…city?”
Josiah’s calm demeanor countered them both effortlessly. “That’s why we’re going to need as many Maestros as we can get that are willing to go down there with us. Like I said, Apexes or not, there’s no way that nine Maestros can take on that quantity of Dissonance. I don’t think I’m doing it justice with how I’m describing it.”
Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.
“There’s a very serious chance people will get hurt, then,” Briar murmured with concern.
“Hold up a second,” Francisco interrupted. “Don’t you mean ten Maestros? You’re talking about the people in here, right? Not that it would change much, because I get your point, but still.”
Josiah sighed. “No, I mean nine. There’s only nine in this room.”
Francisco hesitated, narrowing his eyes in the absolute slightest. “I…don’t think I remember seeing your Muse. You’re Essenced, right?”
“Was,” Josiah clarified coolly. “Technically, still am. Doubt that changes.”
Briar crossed his arms. “You’re not a Maestro?”
Mint stared him down. Josiah stared right back, unfazed. “Ex-Maestro. My Muse was already let go before I got here. Trust me, I have my own ways of contributing.”
Francisco recoiled somewhat under his pointed words. “N-No, I wasn’t trying to say otherwise, I was just…surprised. You sure you’re up for going to this place without a Harmonial Instrument? I mean, you’d be completely unarmed down there.”
“Did it once,” he said. “I can do it again. I wouldn’t be alone this time, either. I am, as it stands, the only person who knows that place inside and out. It’s a straight shot to the place where Seraphim’s Call is, granted, but that doesn’t account for every possible pitfall.”
“If you’re…certain, then,” Briar relented. “We’ve got your back, of course. We can figure out which other Maestros would be willing to go. I don’t know if we can get every single one to come, especially given the danger you’re describing, but we can reach out beyond Tacell and see how far we get.”
“God,” Renato muttered, “we really are making a friggin’ army.”
“We’ll have to get a good balance of legacies if we’re going to make this work,” River added. “Especially the Spirited.”
At the mention of her legacy, Madrigal perked up, shifting in her seat. Only now did she stop picking at the loose threads of the couch, content to cease the torture she’d been inflicting upon the cushions for the past twenty minutes. “Um, did you say the Spirited? Why?”
River tilted his head in the slightest, eyeing her gently. “Safety. If someone gets hurt, we’ll be there to help. The more of us there are, the easier it is to…rotate, if you know what I mean. That way, hopefully, no one has to use their gift more than once at a time. We just need to be careful not to let any of the Maestros get too injured, or--”
Madrigal shook her head, eyes wide with disbelief. “Are we talking about your gift? You know what that does, right? You’ll get hurt! It takes away your lifespan!”
River nodded somewhat. “I know. All of us know. Like I said, we’re careful.”
Madrigal flinched. “You…know, and you still do it anyway?”
“We use our gift in moderation,” he clarified. “Not extensively. It’s the power we’re given. It’s our right. You could argue it’s our obligation, for what legacy we carry in our blood. You’re…Spirited, too, right?”
Cherry oak fingers fell atop the Maestra’s shoulder with such speed that Octavia had to wonder if it hurt. Madrigal jolted under his sudden touch. His narrowed eyes only briefly brushed her own. Otherwise, they challenged a rushing sea without hesitation. Sharp gaze or not, his words weren't for River.
“Josiah,” Renato interrupted, his voice low and cold, “what other problems are we gonna have with all of this?”
Josiah recaptured his thoughts without effort, running one hand through his hair. “Getting into Velrose won’t be impossible, but it’ll be annoying. The whole city runs on a passport system for admission, and they’re not very easy to come by. To get enough for every Maestro would be a massive headache. They’re fond enough of Maestros, collectively, though. The only workaround I could think of for that was reaching out to their acolyte.”
Again, it was a word that stung Octavia’s blood. She was conscious of the way she was trembling, even if she couldn’t get it to stop. It was incredibly frustrating. Harper moved closer to her subtly, his body pressing against hers. She had to resist the urge to bury her face in his shoulder and break down in full. Octavia loathed beyond loathed that this was how he was finding out, and he still hadn’t seen the worst of it by a longshot. Once more, she didn’t argue with his warmth. She leaned into it.
“Allison, right?” Viola tried. “I remember her.”
“The…acolyte?” Francisco questioned.
“Their Maestra. It’s a local thing,” Josiah clarified. “She’s the Maestra for Valkyrie’s Call. Unless she’s got a grudge, I don’t see any reason she wouldn’t be okay with helping.”
“A grudge against…what?” Briar asked.
Josiah inhaled sharply, exhaling much the same. “She might be able to get them all in without passports, if we can convince her to help with this.”
Briar never got his answer. He didn’t press, even as Mint raised an eyebrow on his behalf. River, in contrast, found another question in his place. “Seraphim’s Call, then. What about its Maestro? Where are they?”
Josiah buried his head in his hands once more, falling silent for a moment. If Octavia vomited now, it would end up on Harper. That was even more severe of a concern than the carpet. It was the only thought that restrained her nausea, even as she trembled violently and lost her breath once more. Harper wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close quietly. Octavia prayed no one was staring. She doubted he cared in the slightest, stroking the back of her hand with his thumb.
She wouldn’t even bother trying not to think about it anymore. Their faces in her head were rising to meet her again and again like a tidal wave. Their last moments of suffering and agony were still fresh upon her watery eyes even now. At the very least, Octavia fought to keep the tears in. How long she could manage was debatable.
“Seraphim’s Call doesn’t have a Maestro,” Josiah said slowly, his voice low. “If memory serves, the Witnessing can’t be performed without one, right?”
Mint nodded. Francisco followed her silent answer. “I’m…not sure how to get around that, honestly. We’d need to give it one, then?”
“What’s its legacy?” Briar asked.
“The strength of sound.”
“Right," River said. “We could…see if we can find someone from the same legacy who’d be willing to make that bond for a bit, even just temporarily.”
Viola blinked. “That can happen?”
“I don’t see why not,” he continued. “If it’s for the Muse’s benefit, I doubt they’d turn down the offer, quick as it would be.”
“Become a Maestro, do the toll stuff, let the Muse go, stop being a Maestro,” Renato interpreted half-heartedly. “That’s one hell of a fast turnaround. It almost feels wrong, somehow.”
“Can you use a Strong Maestro who’s already had their Muse guided?” Viola suggested.
Briar shook his head. “To reforge a bond with a prior partner is…more than likely possible, provided the circumstances are even applicable. However, a Maestro, even one who’s already relinquished their Harmonial Instrument, can never bond to a different Harmonial Instrument again.”
“Once you’re done, you’re done,” Francisco added. “That’s that.”
“I’m not sure how we’re going to go about finding a candidate for a new Maestro, truthfully,” River admitted. “We could see if any Strong Maestros we already know of have relatives with the same legacy who might be willing to take the hit. Sometimes, it’s hereditary. I can’t guarantee--”
“There’s another problem.”
Josiah’s voice, still just as low and just as sharp, cut River’s words in half. He tensed, tangling his fingers together loosely as he spoke. “Seraphim’s Call is…unique. It’ll only choose Maestros from one particular bloodline. The family of acolytes that served as its Maestros were the only candidates. The last acolyte was the end of the Ebony family. There are no more acolytes after her. To my understanding, with what I know now, the Muse inside of Seraphim’s Call will only bond with a Maestro of the Ebony family. It's just like how Valkyrie’s Call will only do the same with the Ivory family.”
There was a specific reason that there was no Maestro for Seraphim’s Call. If Octavia held up a mirror, she’d surely find her full explanation immediately. She couldn’t help the way her tears, sparse as they were, dripped onto Harper’s hand. He rested his head against hers slightly, the fabric of his cap brushing against her hair. The pressure was, as she was satisfied to find, a welcome distraction. If he were to let her go right now, if he were to isolate her on the couch, Octavia would surely melt into nothing in the worst way.
Viola’s eyes widened. “But there’s…no acolytes left,” she sputtered.
“So we’re screwed,” Renato mumbled.
“I have one idea. If that idea doesn’t work, then we’re screwed. It’s the best I could do.”
“Go for it,” Renato said.
Josiah sighed heavily. “There was precisely one acolyte who managed to escape from Velpyre. It’s been several decades since then, but she should still be alive--hypothetically. If what Briar said is true, if Maestros can reforge old bonds with their prior partners, she should be able to go back to being a Maestra.”
“Someone…survived?” Madrigal murmured.
He nodded. “Tracking her down is going to be tricky. I don’t know where she ended up. More than likely, she settled down somewhere for good, so she shouldn’t be moving around.”
“Mina’s father is good at finding people,” Briar suggested. “Maybe you could talk with her.”
It made enough sense. The connections Samuel had--as was the case with his two late confidants at SIAR--were mysterious and startlingly thorough. Octavia still hadn’t wrapped her head around what exactly they entailed, let alone how that particular trio had become so effective at finding whatever persons of interest they desired. It probably wasn't the best sign that she would actually prefer to think of SIAR over Velrose.
“Find that person and bring her back, then,” River interpreted. “Will she come willingly?”
“She will,” Josiah insisted. “I’ll make her.”
His words were harsh, pointed enough to draw a handful of worried gazes. He didn’t back down one bit. “Do whatever you can to get her here. If not here, at least to Selbright. There’s a very good chance she doesn’t know what happened to Velpyre, let alone what happened to the rest of the Ebony family. There’s a…very good chance she doesn’t care, either.”
“And you still think this person will agree?” Briar asked with concern in his voice.
Josiah blinked slowly. “I won’t give her a choice. She’s all we have. It has to work. I’ll make sure it works.”
“If…she’s an ex-Maestra, would it be possible to track her with the gift of the Soulful?” Viola wondered aloud. “Or is that pushing it?”
Briar thought for a moment. “It’s not unfeasible. With a bit of guidance in the right direction, we could try. At the very least, we’d still need people to search for this person, anyway. If it was the responsibility of the Soulful, that would take care of a few things at once, if need be. My Apex will help with that, a bit.”
“What do you mean?”
He paused briefly. “The…Maestros blessed with the companionship of an Apex are a bit different, in all honesty. The gifts bestowed by an Apex are as strong as they are, augmented in ways a normal Maestro…well, isn’t. In my case, the distance from which I can sense other Maestros far outpaces that of most of the Soulful. It’s definitely an advantage that’s gone a long way in terms of building this place up. It wouldn’t be a stretch to say Parsephii’s assistance might even help me track down a former Maestra.”
Viola’s eyes widened. “That’s…amazing. Can you track down any ex-Maestros if you tried?”
Briar tilted his head. “I’ve never tried. I’ve only ever felt the pull that comes with active Maestros. Still, I’ll…give it my best shot. The more help I’ve got, the better. Her case sounds unique, anyway. Her partner is still out there.”
“I’ll talk to Mina,” River offered. “I’ll…explain what I can, provided I understood all of this correctly. Hopefully, she can relay it and put us on the right track.”
“I can start figuring out who’s even up to dealing with all of this,” Francisco muttered. “Mint and I will handle gathering the Maestros who’d be willing to go, let alone figuring out who is willing in the first place. This sounds awfully dangerous.”
“It’s for a good cause,” Madrigal said sadly. “Seraphim’s Call needs to go home, too.”
Francisco nodded. “R-Right. We’ll…do our best.”
“I’ll get in contact with the Velrose Acolyte,” Josiah added. “I’ll explain the situation. I don’t think there’ll be an issue. Between all of us, that should take care of everything. It’ll…take some time to set up.”
When his icy gaze drifted to Octavia, she wanted to run. Pinned in Harper’s arms as she was, there was no escape. It was a warm drawback she lamented. “And…Octavia,” he began.
She could barely speak. “Y-Yes?” she tried anyway, her voice hoarse.
His eyes softened somewhat. It was almost a surprise, although it did little to alleviate her trembling and sweating. “Keep doing what you’re doing, at least with the unfit and unwilling Maestros. When you run out of those, stop. Don’t do the Witnessing for a single other Maestro in Tacell or otherwise until we figure this out.”
What was there to do except nod? Octavia let him drag her along. Her head spun under the torment of the blossom and the flame for far, far too long continuously. The bells were becoming a backdrop, muffled somewhat only beneath her best efforts to listen in. It was her responsibility as the Ambassador, ultimately.
She wondered what River would think if he knew exactly why they were going to need to put themselves in danger in the first place. She wondered if Francisco, Willful as he was, would catch her in the midst of whatever lies went unspoken in her heart. The Willful warmth that currently held her close, instead, was starting to falter, the chill in her blood too deep to thaw as it spread like frost. She couldn’t move.
It was the first time she’d heard Harper address the primary conversation since they’d convened, his attention otherwise offered up to the crumbling Ambassador alone. His voice was still just as soft as he peered at Josiah.
“Out of curiosity,” he began, “who…is this Maestra, exactly? You said she escaped?”
Josiah didn’t offer him the courtesy of eye contact. His razor-edged gaze was wasted on the carpet, cutting the fabric to shreds from afar as he once more let his fingers sweep through his hair. He exhaled slowly, his voice dark and solemn.
“Celestina Ebony,” he said. “Selena’s mother.”