The sea of grass that rippled beneath her boots carried not the peace she’d come to associate with Tacell, but she remembered it all the same. The distant roar of the ocean, too, was not to be forgotten. From the open air of the startlingly barren train station, there was little salty scent of which to speak--something she otherwise may have lamented in any other city.

Octavia flexed her fingers. She dug her fingernails into her skin. She swallowed deep breaths of cool oxygen again and again until her lungs burned. She was very much awake, and she was very much alive.

To stand there, even far enough that the walls captured her eyes long before the one structure she dared not look for, was surreal. So many times in the past several months had she seen the blossom time and time again in her dreams, every splash of otherwise-beautiful color and structure assailing her eyes all too often. In the most detached way, she was filling in the gaps.

She remembered the grass being taller, or so she could’ve sworn. She remembered the sky blessing her with a softer blue, although she blamed the turning of the season for the wispy clouds that threatened the autumn sun. Again, Octavia offered up the skin of her palms to her desperate fingernails. She nearly drew blood.

She wasn’t dreaming. It was here. It wasn’t sinking in, and she was floating.

Someone was talking to her. A few people were, the cadences of their voices taking turns battling for her attention. Octavia knew them. She couldn’t assign them to names or faces. She’d stepped into a photograph, a toll of her own making that left her suspended and disoriented. Her feet were moving. So, too, behind her, were others doing the same. She knew not how many.

If she touched that wall, if she stepped through that gate, her dream would surely burst. She would surely awaken. She’d expected to tremble, to sob, to break down and scream. Maybe she would, soon enough. For now, Octavia could hardly process its presence.

Something was in her hand. Something was pulling her onwards, matching her slow pace and never tugging hard enough to hurt. Something was squeezing her. Something was stroking her skin along the way. Her head was spinning. If the dizziness was coming first, she was sure the nausea would have its turn later.

“I’ve never actually gotten to be a visitor before.”

Octavia wasn’t underwater. She was somewhere high above the clouds, out of her own body and looking down on herself. She was only semi-conscious of the physical sensations that met her skin, her ears, every possible vessel of perception that wasn’t her blurred sight.

“I’ve been above before. I’d never actually bothered to go outside until…you know. It’s weird coming back in from the other direction.”

Upon those clouds, he brought his thunderstorm, as gentle as the calm rain in his voice that brushed against her skin.

“You need two passports to get out out, at least if you start from down there. Took me a while to get the first one. Never bothered with getting the second one. It was only really good for getting some sunshine, anyway. The food up above wasn’t as much of an improvement as they’d like you to believe.”

He didn’t shock her.

“I stole a medical textbook out of the library up here, once. I never gave it back, so don’t tell them. It’s still down there. What were they gonna do, come get it? I thought about doing it twice. Never made it through the whole thing because someone thought it’d be funny to keep taking out my bookmarks over and over. I got her back eventually.”

He didn’t strike her down.

“I started cutting pages out of whatever book she was reading. I’d wait until she wasn’t looking and figure out which part she was at, and then I’d cut out the next page so carefully that she wouldn’t notice it. She’d get really confused because the stories would start making less and less sense every time she sat down to read them again. It took her months to figure it out. She deserved it.”

He didn’t try to reassure her, to tell her everything would be fine, to remind her of the support she should be grateful for.

“It’s actually not that bad up above--aesthetically, I mean. I respect the architecture. The people are pretentious as hell, and I’d sooner die than have to make five minutes of idle conversation with any of them, but it’s a sight for sore eyes. Just don’t let anyone make it out to be more elegant than it actually is. My first time above, I watched a kid pee in the plaza fountain. This place isn’t exactly a gift to mankind.”

Josiah was kind.

“You said you were thinking about getting warmer clothes, right? They have stuff here, if I remember correctly. Can’t say a lot of it is going to be very fashionable. Everyone here dresses horribly. At least below, I could wear whatever I wanted. If I had to wear formal clothes up above all of the time, I think I would’ve gone insane. I’ve never had to wear anything with a tie, and I sure as hell am not starting any time soon.”

Josiah was warm.

“I…do actually like cold weather. The seasons below were…weird. It snowed. When I was a kid, that was my favorite time of the year. I should’ve been more subtle about it, because someone kept putting snow on my bed. A lot of it. It’s very, very annoying to try to dry wet linens outside in the winter. Somehow, that made it funnier for her.”

Josiah was understanding, patient as he matched her every step towards the gate.

“I mean, when we’re…all done, if you want to mess around up above, we can. I don’t know how much of it you got to see last time, but they really like their Maestros up here. I already told Allison there were going to be a ton of them. I don’t know if the people who live here will know on sight. I doubt it. They’re probably going to be confused as hell when thirty-something people come streaming in at the same time, though. I can show you the handful of restaurants I did get to try, although I don’t know if all of them are still standing. Again, food isn’t anything to die for, but it’s at least a novelty. I know I keep brushing you off about going to Selbright together. If you want to just go back to Tacell after this, we can. Otherwise, I can take you on a Velrose date.”

She could feel his hand. She could feel his touch. Even if she couldn’t feel her heart, every uneven beat out of touch with the last, she could feel the way her lips curved upwards in the slightest. She could feel the way hoarse words managed to bubble out of her constricted throat.

“You’re…asking me…on a date?”

Octavia saw him smirk. “I would like to clarify up front that the word ‘date’ doesn’t necessarily indicate romantic interest. Putting that out there.”

“That’s…definitely…what it means,” she breathed weakly.

“If you’re into me, just tell me. You don’t have to go in circles.”

She giggled. It was faint, and it felt good, the looming shadows of the walls be damned. “You wish.”

Josiah rolled his eyes playfully. “I’m not the one hung up on the ‘date’ part. You’re projecting a little, I think. Sort your feelings out and get back to me when you’re ready.”

Even if his words gave her the strength to find color in the waking world, to float back down into her own body and feel the earth beneath her feet, it wasn’t entirely enough. There was still a gate, and there was still the blossom beyond it. They weren’t the same guards, nor did they demand passports on sight. Still, it was a sight familiar enough to make her heart pound.

Octavia wasn’t nauseous yet. She had a feeling that would change the moment she was physically within the suffocating grasp of the Blessed City once more. She clung tightly to Josiah’s hand, and he didn’t dismiss her one bit. She squeezed. He squeezed back, if not more gently.

It was River who took the lead, although Octavia shouldn’t have been as surprised as she actually turned out to be. It was always somewhat jarring to see him carry himself like the leader he truly was, an air of confidence following in his wake as he stepped forward. She’d seen mostly his gentle side several times over, soft-spoken as he was. His spirit was on full display, unflinching and unwavering, at the very head of their haphazardly-assembled Maestro army. Undaunted by the unfamiliar walls that towered high above him, he brought that seafoam tide front and center.

“We’re here to meet with the acolyte,” he stated firmly, his voice clear as crystal. “We’ve come with the Ambassador. She’s expecting us.”

It was a sentence that was surely foreign on his lips, his understanding of the blossom and the flame in full definitely close to zero. Octavia could imagine Josiah training him on what to say. He’d played the part beautifully, flawlessly enough that their passage was utterly unimpeded.

“We’ve been made aware,” one guard answered simply. “Do what you must.”

“Welcome to Velrose,” the other offered.

It was a welcome she’d never wanted to receive again.

Octavia practically strangled Josiah’s fingers. Still, he was calm. He squeezed back far more softly than she had.

It took everything in her power to move her feet forward, to shift from rolling grass to firm cobblestone as Josiah wordlessly fell into step with her once more. He was ahead of her in the slightest, pulling her along subtly. It was still notable enough for her to recognize his quiet urging, lest she try to run and hide. Octavia couldn’t blame him, necessarily, given the way she staggered immediately upon looking upwards.

It was instinctive, a reflex she’d already long since anticipated would happen the moment she set foot in the Blessed City once more. It was still there, still rising high above the blossom beneath the crown of the shining sun. Even from here, she could capture the blinding glare of the bell’s bronze against the rays of the autumn sky. It was silent, for now.

She’d forgotten all about the timing. She’d forgotten all about the frequency of the tolling--thrice daily, if memory served. It was mid-afternoon. As to where that placed her on the acolyte’s schedule, she was unsure. At such a close range, she would die. The sensation of every toll rippling through her blood once more would surely do her in for good.

Cover!

That wouldn’t help.

Cover!

But she could still hear it anyway.

Cover!

Did it matter if it was tolling or not?

Octavia!

Her wide eyes went up. Her wide eyes went down. Could she remember exactly where on the ground they’d landed?

Octavia!

One trembling hand was already aloft, desperately cupping her right ear. Oxygen was scarce. She couldn’t stop staring. She found the nausea. Her knees shook. Her vision swam. Her head hurt. Was it obvious?

“Octavia.”

The angle at which Josiah had stepped in front of her was calculated and careful, just enough to shade the glare of Valkyrie’s Call with his body. The shadow he cast upon her in turn wasn’t entirely unwelcome, and he claimed her horrified eyes for himself. He reached for the hand that covered her ear futilely, the one he hadn’t yet adopted. His grasp was gentle, both of her hands in his as he walked backwards slowly. Octavia hoped he wouldn’t trip.

“Are you tired at all?” he offered.

Octavia shook her head slowly. It didn’t help the dizziness at all. “N-No.”

“Remember, the street slopes upwards, so it’ll take a bit of effort to walk. If you get tired, let me know and we can take a break for a bit. We can let everyone else go ahead.”

“I-I don’t…want to…slow anyone down,” she murmured.

He shook his head instead. “You won’t.”

“What…time is it?” Octavia asked breathlessly.

Josiah peered over his shoulder--whether to steady his backwards steps or to assess the tower he sought to obscure, she wasn’t certain. “You don’t have to worry about that.”

“I do,” Octavia pleaded. “Please tell me.”

“She won’t play,” he said calmly. “She’s not going to ring the bell for a few days, at least not on their regular schedule. I made sure of it. You won’t hear anything. You…don’t have to worry.”

Her eyes widened. “Why?”

Josiah tilted his head. “I didn’t want you to hear it.”

It was enough to send relief flooding through her veins, her heart skipping several consecutive beats. She wished she could offer him a smile to accompany her gratitude. “Thank you,” Octavia whispered, her voice nearly cracking.

“It’ll be gone soon, anyway,” Josiah continued. “You’ll never have to worry about it again. Seraphim’s Call isn’t the only reason we’re here, remember?”

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

Octavia nodded. “Y-Yeah.”

The knowledge of assured peace helped substantially, and she found the strength to pull one of her hands from his own. Her silent affirmation of personal calm was enough to reassure him, and Josiah faced forward once more. Never did she dare to release his other hand, warm and soft as it continued to be. The sight above her didn’t burn quite as severely. It was easier to see, at least, her eyes focusing easier as they walked.

Velrose was much like she'd remembered it, the actual visage of the blossom not enough to drag her into memories she wished to forget. It was true that she could recall the Dissonance, the screaming, the running and panic that came with the catastrophe. It didn’t hurt nearly as much as the agony that she’d found atop the bell tower, and it never would. The city really was beautiful, and that, too, hadn’t changed.

Octavia recognized a handful of miniscule landmarks in passing--shops she’d walked by exactly once, places she’d seen people congregate in peace. She found the fountain again. She found the inn. She found the exact spot where Harper had coaxed her into a song of joy in unison, the first time she’d ever played alongside him. She found the general location that Renato had awaited her, a somewhat-unsettling feat of tracking at the time that she was now eternally grateful for. She tried not to look for the place she’d reunited with Drey. She had enough to worry about, clinging to what little slivers of happiness the city had brought to her instead.

“Alright, not gonna lie, this place kinda rules,” she heard Francisco admit from behind her.

It was hard to keep track of who was where, and Octavia was practically adrift in a Maestro sea. She held fast to Josiah. He didn’t object in the slightest.

“Uh, you’re…probably gonna change your mind about that fairly soon,” she could hear Harper warn.

“Why?”

“Because the whole city’s a freakin’ cult,” Renato grumbled.

Josiah sighed. “Just…tolerate it. Ignore whatever you hear. I don’t know if they’ve changed any of their philosophies since you-know-what, and frankly, I don’t want to know.”

People were staring. It was only fair. Octavia gulped, their prying eyes just a bit too much to handle--even distributed amongst the Maestros as they were.

“Where’s Celestina?” Josiah whispered.

Initially, Octavia thought it to be a question for herself. It was only when she heard Madrigal’s voice so near, quiet and calm, that she realized otherwise.

“She’s with Viola,” Madrigal whispered back.

“Spread something around for me, okay? Don’t let anyone mention that she’s from Velpyre while we’re here. Not a word.”

Madrigal winked with a smile. “You can count on me!”

Octavia caught the tap tap tap of Madrigal’s sandals against the cobblestone as she took off, a bit too enthusiastic relative to the weight of her task. It raised a point that bothered her, somewhat.

“Does…Allison know?” she asked timidly.

“Allison knows,” Josiah answered. “The clergy doesn’t. No one else does, either.”

“Does the clergy know we’re going down there? Or, at least…why?”

Josiah shrugged. “That’s an Allison question. As to whether or not they’re going to put two and two together, I don’t know. We’ll just have to be quick.”

Octavia paused. “Should we…tell everyone not to mention that you’re from Velpyre, too?”

He smiled sadly. “That’s not as important.”

“It’s important to me,” she murmured.

“Hey there, Heartful.”

Octavia was surprised, honestly, how much Mina’s voice brightened her spirits. It was mildly startling how quickly the girl had appeared at her opposite side, blessing her with a grin and playful eyes she’d missed. Even in the depths of her stress, she couldn’t fight the faintest smile.

“Mina,” she acknowledged with soft happiness.

“You ready to get this party started?” the girl asked with more excitement than was necessary.

Still, it was charming, in a way. “This is serious. Remember, we need to be careful and safe. Please don’t do anything rash.”

“I’ll be fiiiiine,” Mina reassured, waving one hand dismissively. “We’ve got enough firepower here to take on the world. We’ll back each other up and come out on top. You know how it is. Like I said, I’m looking forward to going all out. I’ve never really gotten the chance to fight.”

“Even the Dissonance?”

She shrugged. “Not much of it. Teeny bit here and there, but nothing that wasn’t over quick.”

Octavia sighed. “You know, we’re not exactly here to experiment.”

“Make the most of what you’ve got,” Mina said.

Octavia didn’t get the chance to chide her. Mina’s eyes had already drifted too far to the left. Her grin dipped into something much more concerning.

“Hey there, lightning bug,” she teased, her voice dripping with charm. “Haven’t seen you in a hot minute. You’re gonna be fighting, too, then?”

Josiah raised an eyebrow. “What did you just call me?”

“He’s not gonna fight, but he’s gonna help with lots of other stuff,” Octavia clarified.

“Aw, I was hoping to see my fellow Essenced friend in action,” Mina whined. “Suit yourself. I’ll keep you safe, I promise.”

“I…appreciate it, but I’ll be fine, really,” Josiah reassured.

Octavia watched with a knowing wince as Mina’s eyes trailed down to her hand, currently clasped tightly in Josiah’s own. She knew exactly where that grin was headed.

“Oh?”

“No.”

“Yeah?”

“Platonic.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I mean it.”

Josiah side-eyed the Ambassador. “What?”

“Nothing.”

Mina’s snickering was enough to make her sigh. With a roll of her eyes, Octavia offered her attention anywhere else she could. She could feel the way the incline had begun to bring pressure to her calves, a notable marker of progress. It wouldn’t be long. She tried to ignore the eyes all around that still settled upon their makeshift army. Her own found Mint, and Mint’s found nothing. Octavia blinked, confused.

The way by which Mint’s gaze had been obscured was baffling. Carefully tied beneath her fluffy hair was a thick strip of white cloth, long and opaque, that wrapped around her eyes time and time again. From here, Octavia couldn’t tell with certainty if Mint had any line of sight, given how tightly bound the haphazard binding appeared to be secured. Octavia wasn’t the only one with a walking companion.

She found Briar, hand-in-hand with his fellow Ensemble member as he led her forward carefully. Mint didn’t stumble, nor did she hesitate as she walked--an apparent gesture of full trust in the Soulful boy’s guidance. If the display was less perplexing, it would’ve been endearing, in that manner.

“What’s…going on with her?” Octavia murmured under her breath.

Mina followed her gaze. “Mint’s gift is a bit too strong. They have to do this every time she leaves Tacell. Otherwise, a lot of innocent people get screwed over, and we can’t really fix it once it happens.”

“What do you mean?”

Mina crossed her arms. “Did someone already tell you how gifts from Apexes work a bit…differently?”

Octavia nodded. Mina cocked her head.

“Mint…doesn’t need to touch someone to use hers,” Mina explained. “She’s just gotta look at them. Once she makes eye contact, it’s over. People’ll be seeing Dissonance for life.”

Octavia’s eyes widened. “That’s…awful.”

“Yeah, well, we’re getting rid of the stuff soon enough, anyway. Hopefully, that helps a bit,” Mina offered.

“She can take the blindfold off in a little while,” Josiah assured. “She’s not going to need it where we’re going.”

“I’m assuming that’s it, then?”

Briar’s distant voice brought Octavia’s attention dead ahead. Like all else in the city, it was just as she’d remembered. The stained glass was just as resplendent, just as breathtaking as it showered the cobblestone below in every imaginable color. So, too, were they bathed in the same luminous rainbows of artisanal perfection, the one and only admirable aspect of the Velrose Church upon her eyes yet again. The angels were still crafted with every last glassy fragment of love, the central piece that had caught her eye so long ago equally magnificent.

With context this time around, she could assume that the small, lovingly-depicted girl who raised her hands to the heavens was none other than the acolyte herself. As to the radiant, rainbow-tinted angel who sparkled down on her with open arms, she hadn’t quite dissected the scene in full just yet. It was still beautiful regardless, and she wasn’t the only one starstruck by the splendorous masterpieces high upon the church’s exterior.

It was for that reason that Francisco’s crass reaction felt almost disrespectful. He whistled. “Damn, are you sure this place sucks?”

“I promise you, it sucks,” Harper muttered.

Even as most of them made for the steps, the one Maestro that lingered caught her eye, somewhat. She had to physically tug at Josiah’s hand to get him to turn around, given the way he’d continued to pull her gently along. Octavia couldn’t quite motivate herself to let go, nor did she want to. She was grateful when Josiah relented, content to be dragged by the Ambassador instead. She was more interested in the single pair of eyes that found interest not in the spectacle of masterful art, but high above, in the one place she’d fought not to raise her own gaze to.

“What’s wrong?” Octavia asked.

He didn’t answer, his head tilted back and his attention aloft. How he tolerated the sun’s glare that surely bounced from the bronze down onto him was beyond her.

“Is there…something up there?”

Renato finally blinked. “It’s…nothing.”

Josiah raised an eyebrow. “What’s up with you?”

Renato pulled his gaze back down to earth, although not without one last flicker up above. “Something’s just…off. Dunno how else to explain. Don’t sweat it.”

“What?”

“C’mon, we’re gonna get left here. Out of the two of these places, this isn’t the one I’m more worried about gettin’ abandoned in, but I’d still rather not.”

Neither of them pressed. Even as both Josiah and Octavia chanced a passing glance at the same spot he’d stared at extensively, they found nothing of merit besides the one memento of Octavia’s suffering. Knowing it would be silent on her behalf continued to ease her heart, even if its visage alone still made her somewhat dizzy.

River had already knocked. He’d already given his brief spiel a second time over. He was doing a fantastic job, for all intents and purposes, at leading their little army into unfamiliar territory--for those of Tacell, at least. Octavia doubted the inside would bother her. She was correct, for the most part, and the plush velvet beneath her feet was just as smooth as she’d remembered. There was no choir, no visible clergy, not even another soul to impede their voyage into the depths of what should’ve been a holy place. They’d known, after all.

As to the lengths Allison had gone to to prepare for their arrival, she was unsure. There was no warmth in the candles that burned freely on the walls, little flames guiding their way down a path that had begun to ring nostalgic. The murmurs and mutters behind her were in excess, echoes that bounced down every corridor and drowned out River’s words.

Their single, willing guide--clergy-affiliated, if the robes were anything to go by--was out of earshot, humbled somewhat beneath the piercing gaze that crashed forward in powerful waves again and again. River's presence was just as powerful. It was, ever so slowly, starting to sink in, as to how he’d managed to take the helm of Tacell in the first place. It felt safe.

It was the chapel. She’d been correct. Her heart pounded as the doors opened before her, glass-guarded sunshine above flooding the sanctuary in excess as it spilled onto plush maroon below. Octavia, too, was bathed in the same, recoiling somewhat as the sudden light splashed into her eyes. It burned, the memory of standing before an angel in white perhaps burning just as much. It was a reflex to search for her face, to chase her afterimage with wide and desperate eyes upon the central pedestal.

She’d hardly known the acolyte, familiar with her grace and her wrath in equal measure. Even so, she’d been majestic. She’d been lustrous. Octavia chose to believe in her kindness, had the fate of the flame not intertwined so closely with her short life. Her graceful angel was gone. She dared not think about how the girl had been lost.

She squeezed Josiah’s hand. He squeezed back. If she grasped with her other hand, if she reached out, could she pull from thin air the sound of the acolyte’s voice greeting them once more?

There was no Sonata. There would never again be Sonata. Where she had once stood was the closest echo Octavia would ever get.

Allison Ivory had, physically, remained as Octavia remembered her. It hadn't been more than several months since their last encounter, and the child was still exactly that. She was once more slammed with the pang of sorrow that accompanied the sight of such young Maestros and Maestras. In this case, so, too, came guilt in equal measure. It was technically Octavia who’d bound this child to Valkyrie’s Call, for better or worse.

Her pearl-tinted robes had been hemmed at last, finally sparing her the pains of battling a tripping hazard with every step. Her soft skin was every bit as fair, her cascading locks were every bit as beautifully blonde, and her wide eyes that challenged the gentle sky were just as round and inquisitive.

It was those eyes in which Octavia found the changes that had besieged the little acolyte since their last meeting. Where once had been curiosity now rested only sorrow. Her movements spoke to fatigue, as did her face overall. Whether it was emotional or physical in nature, Octavia couldn’t quite pinpoint. She was given that weak gaze in earnest, a gently-burning confidence she’d never once found in the child’s little heart now on full display. Perhaps that was purely by force, and guilt rippled through her blood yet again.

Octavia claimed Allison’s attention alone for a moment, the Ambassador and the acolyte locked in the loaded acknowledgement of a silent reunion. Her stomach lurched. A thousand apologies settled onto her tongue, and it was by sheer willpower that she bit them back.

Whatever clergy guide had led them this far was as silent as the little acolyte, shirking an introduction in favor of River’s own. He was respectful, maybe even too much so. Octavia wondered exactly what sort of image Josiah had painted for him of the acolyte’s role, given the way he dropped to one knee and bowed his head low. To see him humbled in such a manner almost reminded her of the courtesy he’d offered upon greeting the Ambassador for the first time.

With one hand over his heart, his voice was every bit as confident. “Lady Acolyte, it’s a pleasure to meet you. My name is River, leader of the Maestros of Tacell. It is an honor.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

They were the first words Octavia had ever heard leave the child’s mouth, for how closely she'd previously clung to her sister’s robes. She had once hidden in the former acolyte’s shadow with such instinct that Octavia had never heard her small, soft voice, imbued with a quiet firmness as it was. She again clasped Josiah’s fingers desperately. Again, too, he reciprocated in peace.

Allison motioned for River to rise. “It’s okay. You…don’t have to do that,” she repeated quietly.

River obliged, unshaken as he rose to his feet. He didn’t apologize for his courtesy, content to watch as the acolyte laid both hands over her own heart. She, too, bowed her head in the slightest.

“I’m Allison Ivory, the Velrose Acolyte. It’s…nice to meet all of you. Thank you for being here.”

With his free hand, Josiah offered a similar gesture of respect, fingers settling over his chest. “Thanks for answering my requests, and thanks for having us in the first place. We’re definitely in your debt. We’ll be quick, we promise.”

“How many of you are there in total?” she asked timidly.

“I believe there’s thirty-two of us,” River offered.

Allison nodded, her long hair brushing her arms with every motion. “That’s a lot.”

“We needed every last one of them,” she heard Viola murmur under her breath.

When River’s eyes flickered to her, the acolyte's own followed along. Viola flushed, her voice louder than expected as she spoke mildly out of turn. She squeezed her eyes shut in embarrassment, clapping one hand over her mouth.

“Vi…ola?”

The syllables on the acolyte’s lips drew wide eyes from multiple sources, not the least of whom was Octavia. The Maestra in question blinked. “W-What?”

Octavia watched in awe as Allison’s eyes roamed the room, settling on additional Maestros in turn one at a time. So, too, did their respective faces flash with surprise at the gentle sound of their own names. “Madrigal. Harper,” the Velrose Acolyte said softly.

She’d already met Allison’s tired gaze once. Never had she herself forgotten the little acolyte’s name, even if it hadn't naturally sat at the forefront of Octavia’s memories versus that of the child’s sister. Of the opposite, she hadn’t stopped to fathom. With thirty-two Maestros to choose from, the way Allison singled out the four she’d met only once before made her heart swell.

“Octavia,” she said at last.

Octavia could hardly squeak words out of her dry throat. “You remembered.”

And when the little acolyte nodded, her own words in turn were impossible to pinpoint. If they were kind, if they were hateful, if they were hostile or welcoming, Octavia would never know. In that small voice, pinned by those small eyes, the newest Velrose Acolyte managed to tear her heart in two and sew it back together all at once.

“I could never forget you.”