Twice now had her greatest trial in the Blessed City been marked by the rising sun--once graced by summer’s warmth, now graced by autumn’s breeze. She cherished the few minutes she opted to soak it in, the sight of the sunrise outside the walls of the church somewhat enough in its own right to ring bells in her head. She quickly shunned the idea, satisfied enough with the cool air of dawn that she’d managed to swallow.
Octavia should’ve been panicked, frightened, shaken in some way that spoke to the absolute mortal peril that awaited roughly thirty minutes from now. Instead, she didn’t find peace so much as an overarching numbness, a disconnection from her own spirit that left her floating aimlessly once more. It didn’t hurt, and she drifted in the depths of her little sea like a jellyfish.
There came a revelation that it may have been worse if they were going up. It was true that Hell awaited them below in a literal sense. However, it wasn't the Hell that haunted her. It wasn't the place she’d witnessed her first death, long before the title of Ambassador had settled upon her shoulders. It didn’t mean she was looking forward to it--she doubted anyone was.
The doors to the staircase had been formally sealed. It wasn’t a particularly strong seal, but a symbolic barrier nonetheless. It hadn’t taken much Maestro-assisted effort to annihilate, and it was the carefully-tuned strength of sound that made quick work of passable masonry. She was impressed that Renato hadn’t blown the door clean off its hinges. River, too, had offered his wide-eyed praise, for what that was worth.
The stairs that spiraled downwards were just as she’d visually remembered, the echo of dozens of footsteps off of every wall somewhat adding to the tension of descent. Octavia was in no hurry, although the confidence of River before her was somewhat encouraging to trail. It was difficult to hold Josiah’s hand all the way down, given the narrow width of the steps themselves. Stradivaria on her back wasn’t helping. She feared hitting whoever was behind her with its case, should she stumble.
On occasion, she squeezed Josiah's hand. As expected, he squeezed back. It was becoming routine, and she was content to cherish it all the way down. It was as long of a descent as she’d remembered. No one spoke. No one breathed. In her defense, the breathing concern may have been unique to her alone, and it took conscious effort to find oxygen in the dim, damp staircase. Octavia had never been truly claustrophobic before. There was a first time for everything.
She recalled the insignia of the flame upon the cobblestone, the miniscule chime that crowned its visage, the vast expanse that offered the calm before the storm. The ominous room that had felt so large at that time was still just as such with thirty-two Maestros in its grasp, if not even more intimidating. Octavia was vaguely aware of the way they trickled down the steps behind her one by one, content to stare with mild confusion at the sizable metal plate that claimed the center of the room.
“Where…is it?” she heard Francisco ask.
Josiah tilted his head in the direction of the insignia. “Down there.”
Francisco’s eyes widened. “Seriously? Damn, when you said ‘below’, you really meant it.”
“I can hear it,” Madrigal murmured.
It was an observation that made Octavia’s heart sink and her stomach twist into knots. She didn’t need to put her ear to the floor below to hear the screeching as it bubbled through the metal. It was loud--louder than she’d ever heard, in truth. For a moment, she couldn’t breathe. She was simultaneously incredibly relieved and exceedingly horrified.
For one, they’d been terrifyingly correct in their assumption of Hell awaiting them below. In contrast, they’d made an equally correct decision in bringing along their makeshift army. It didn’t necessarily ease her fears in the slightest regarding opening the metal gate itself. She found a new and unsettling horror in the form of infrequent creaking that accompanied the screeching, so close to the tips of her boots that she hardly needed to bend down. It was a pressure she didn’t need to see to believe, swelling and bubbling deep beneath her.
Josiah’s assertion that this Dissonance wasn't the same as that which she’d grown accustomed to may very well have been an understatement, if her all-too-correct instincts were telling her anything. She was practically standing atop a volcano, trusting only in a plate of questionable thickness to guard her from the explosive violet underfoot. The idea of opening the gate was growing more and more dreadful to the point that she'd begun to sweat. Given how Octavia heard cases either calmly settling against the stone below or clattering to the floor haphazardly, she couldn’t help but wonder if she was the only one afraid.
“How do we actually open it?” Briar questioned from afar. When Octavia cast her eyes to him, he was well in the midst of unlocking his own partner’s case. She hurriedly began to do the same.
Josiah, having no partner to prepare, simply adjusted the strap of his bag across his shoulder. He gestured to the little bell that sat oddly out of place upon the floor, just barely missing the edge of the iron plating. That, too, Octavia could vaguely recall. “This thing activates a mechanism underneath the stairs down there that moves the barrier. Hopefully, it still works. There’s another mechanism in this room to open it in the event that it fails, but this is definitely the easiest option.”
A Maestro she’d never met crossed their arms skeptically. “That little bell is enough to open this?”
Josiah nodded calmly. “Yeah. It’s all that’s separating us from what’s down there right now.”
It was a thought that rattled Octavia in earnest, and she didn’t especially enjoy thinking about it. The screeching was at a level volume, steadily audible as it was. It wasn’t loud, nor was it soft. It was muffled and strangled, an ominous backdrop to every word that left the Maestros’ mouths. She couldn’t shake it from her ears, no matter how hard she tried to focus.
She found some distraction in mild awe at the sheer amount of Harmonial Instruments greeting her eyes one by one. Some she’d seen before, perhaps once over or in infinite abundance. Some she’d never seen in her life, either by the hands of those she knew or in the grasp of those she didn’t. Even if it wasn’t her priority, she couldn’t help but wonder what many of them sounded like, what lovely songs they could sing in peace if given the chance.
It occurred to her that, today, she would hear only melodies of violence and defense. She felt a preemptive lament in her heart. Octavia took comfort in the ones she'd long since engraved into her soul. She took comfort in the one she cradled in her own arms, hugging Stradivaria to her chest anxiously.
Renegadria was a sight for sore eyes once more, and she had no objections to River’s partner greeting her again. It wasn’t an intentional reunion, nor was it one intended to be joyous. His gaze was sharp and confident, and she trusted in the seafoam that rippled steadily before the little bell guarding them all. His fingers settled over the keys.
“Right,” he began, “is this everyone?”
To Octavia’s left, Mint nodded. “Thirty-two. I counted,” Francisco offered.
“Where’s Celestina?”
“She’s here,” Briar called, delicately guiding the former acolyte forward.
Octavia was absolutely not immune to the fear in the woman’s eyes, subtle and yet vivid all at once. They flickered to Josiah exactly once, although he refused to return the same gaze. Whether she feared the flame itself or the agony that rested within it, Octavia was unsure. Both were surely viable options.
River didn’t need to verify the Ambassador’s location. She waved weakly. Even now, he smiled for her. She did what she could to smile back, weak as it was.
“We’re pairing off legacies, then. Raise your hand if you’re Soulful,” he ordered.
The Maestros at large obliged, a fair amount of hands rising from their respective instruments. Even given his clear presence in the Ensemble, Briar, too, did the same. Octavia watched as at least one of those hands left a familiar flute, steady eyes flickering to her own with a fleeting smile.
“Willful.”
Again came the same, somewhat smaller in quantity and yet still abundant. River genuinely had done a solid job distributing his selection amply enough. Francisco, too, didn’t hesitate to offer his clear cooperation. She cared more about Harper’s, given the way he winked at her reassuringly.
“Essenced.”
Mint and Mina's hands rose in relative tandem. Their instruments were both small enough that their movements were somewhat similar, each one falling quietly to their sides in careful fingers despite their physical differences. Mint was still. Mina’s grin made up for the girl’s lack of emotion. When it was offered to Octavia, too, she took it with grace and a grateful heart.
She side-eyed Josiah, briefly. The way he tipped his hand back and forth was enough to get the tiniest of giggles out of her. It made him smirk, and that in turn made her happy.
“Strong.”
There weren’t quite as many Strong Maestros along for their siege, although the ones they had brought came bundled with the determined eyes Octavia would’ve expected to see. Without a Strong Maestro in the Ensemble, their lacking numbers were slightly more striking. Celestina raising her hand was somewhat of a surprise, meek as the motion was. Renato outright offering an entire salute and an all-too-powerful grin of his own was far more anticipated. There was her soldier, she supposed.
“Spirited.”
River wasn’t kidding about his selection process.
Of the thirty-two Maestros, nearly one-third of them raised their hands--himself included. He offered them slightly softer gazes as he assessed the ranks he’d assembled, and she had a vague idea as to why. Octavia’s heart raced over the idea of the gifts that sat in wait upon every hand that brushed the air. There was no telling how many times over they’d already been put to use. There was no telling how many collective years of potential happiness and dreams were pooled between them all.
She wondered how River kept track. She wondered, in the dark, how they’d keep track at all. If she squinted, she could’ve sworn she saw Madrigal’s hand trembling on the way up. The smile took a moment, eyes tinted with untraceable discomfort offered in tandem with the beam she gave to the Ambassador. Even with two fingers cast over one eye in a victorious, playful V, it did little to hide her unsettled gaze.
It did little to keep Renato’s eyes from landing on her heavily, his once-elated expression cold. Harper did the same, plagued with concern in his own. So, too, did Viola, albeit softer. Given that it was the Spirited girl’s own eyes that rested on Octavia’s, there was nothing she could do but hold her distressed gaze.
Ever so slightly, Octavia shook her head. If Madrigal saw, she made no indication, only lowering her hand in time with the remaining Spirited Maestros. Octavia could only pray, now, for all they’d begged their heroine to cherish what she had.
“Heartful.”
In their little army, there were only two. It wasn’t exactly an unexpected number, although Octavia was aware that Tacell carried yet the slightest bit more in their ranks. So distracted was she by her concern for Madrigal’s well-being that she nearly missed her call to action, forced to jerk her hand upwards quickly once it registered. She had only one companion, and it was the one she’d somewhat anticipated seeing.
Faith raised her own hand, trembling with substantially more fervor than Madrigal. Octavia wondered if it was for a different reason entirely, given the way the arm around Jadareverie was shaking just as much. She tried to catch the girl’s eyes, to offer a shred of reassurance in the face of the Hell waiting below. She failed. Why River had even bothered to account for the two Heartful Maestros he surely knew were there, Octavia wasn’t sure.
“Good,” River said quietly. His commands were substantially louder by comparison, his voice crystal clear and confident. “Ensemble, we’re with Celestina. Ambassador, you have your circle.”
Those explicitly acknowledged split up accordingly, and Octavia welcomed the comfort of familiar faces by her side once more. The prior division had been stressful enough, and the smile she offered was at least mildly genuine.
“See, this is why the cool group name would’ve been a good idea,” Renato muttered.
“If you’re gonna think of one, do it now,” Harper whispered harshly.
“Something with the word ‘Ambassador’ in it.”
“You’re not even trying. Be creative.”
“I've got it!” Renato whispered back. “The Orchestra. Because, like, they already took the Ensemble. And it’s still themed.”
“We’re six people,” Harper hissed. “That’s not what an orchestra is.”
“Would it kill you to be flexible?”
“Will you two shut the hell up and focus?” Viola snapped.
They made her giggle. It was a relief, and Octavia found a deeper breath than she’d been able to summon before. Josiah hadn’t left her for a moment, and she relished the warmth of his body heat beside her. She nudged his hand gently. Even out of her grip, he nudged back. It was weaker.
“Everyone else, pair off with one other Maestro. Spirited, don’t pair up with another Spirited Maestro. Anyone with a legacy that’s luminescent, same thing, don’t double up. If there’s someone you work well with, don’t be afraid to stand by their side,” River ordered.
Mina rolled her eyes. “I mean, you took my person. Didn’t think I’d have to make a new friend today.”
“You’ll find a way,” Francisco teased with a smirk.
Given how uncomfortable Faith looked as she searched for a partner, Octavia had half a mind to recommend that she pair with Mina--although that would break the luminescence rule, provided she was understanding correctly. The Heartful girl gripped her viola tightly, eyes cast at the floor rather than meaningfully at any of the other Maestros. Again and again she eyed the Ensemble, and Octavia couldn’t help but feel bad for her.
“We’re not going to leave your side once we’re down there,” Viola said, resting one hand atop Octavia’s shoulder. “We’ll do everything we can to stick together.”
“It’s gonna be pretty dark. If we get split up, we’ll still fight to find our way back to you,” Harper added, his own hand brushing softly against her other shoulder as well.
Renato stretched dramatically, Mistral Asunder well at home in his false fingers as he flexed them comfortably. “Speak for yourselves. I’m not losing her. Got a bit of a countermeasure for that.”
“We’ll…make it through this, just like we make it through anything!” Madrigal cheered. The wobble in her voice was apparent, the tiniest tremble of her fingers even more so as she held fast to Lyra’s Repose. Even with one confident fist aloft in the air and a smile just for the Ambassador, her distress was somewhat obvious. It drew attention, localized as it was.
“Maddie.”
Madrigal lowered her hand, tilting her head. “Yes?”
Renato’s grin had slipped clean off of his face. In its place, Octavia found only soft eyes and a blank expression. It was with care that Mistral Asunder didn’t spear into Madrigal’s buns as he rested one cherry oak hand atop her head, patting gently. She didn’t smile. Neither did he.
“Listen to me. You wanna get out there and fight like hell, then fight like hell. I’ll hunt you down and back you up if you get lost. I know you’ve got Lyra, and I know you’re gonna kick ass. I’ve got no doubt about that, not even a little bit. You’re gonna nail it, just like you always do.”
His hand came down. It came up, beneath her chin, and leveled his chilled eyes with hers. She didn’t resist.
“But I know what’s going through that pretty head of yours. Don’t do it. I don’t care what happens. Do not do it. Please. For me.”
The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
Madrigal’s eyes shimmered. “Renato, I--”
“I will get on my knees and beg if I have to. Don’t hurt yourself like that. Don’t do that to yourself ever again. If they wanna mess around with all that stuff, let ‘em. You’re more than your legacy. There’s a whole lot of stuff I wanna do together with you when all of this is over, and I’m gonna need a whole lot of time for it. Don’t…take that away from me, princess. Don’t take that away from us.”
Madrigal struggled to escape his pleading gaze, her eyes watering dangerously. When she found the same sentiment on the faces of each of her companions, there was little argument left to make. She wiped her eyes with her palms before tears could be shed, nodding solemnly as she pulled away from him.
Renato didn’t quite let her escape. He wrapped his arms around her. She hugged him back quietly, her buns pressing into his skin and Lyra’s Repose pressing into her own stomach in turn. Two years was more than enough. If she could give it back, if she could trade her own, Octavia would’ve done so in a heartbeat. It hurt to think about.
“Josiah,” she heard River call, “we’re good here. At your ready, then.”
Octavia hadn’t even noticed the way the room had come to a standstill, tranquil and organized. Mina and Faith had both ended up with Maestros she’d never seen, although their respective demeanors regarding their situations were relatively opposite of one another. One seemed far more excited than the other, and Octavia still couldn’t figure out exactly how.
Celestina had folded her hands in front of her, trembling in the process as she stared with relentless horror at the iron plate below. Even now, the background sounds of creaking and screeching served as a petrifying calm before the storm, placated and sealed away from her vulnerable soul. Octavia breathed in. She breathed out. She battled the way her own hands shook against Stradivaria.
“Ambassador.”
It was a title she, at this point, was so used to finding on any lips except those she’d come to know well. When Josiah called for her, nudging her hand once more, it was surprising by comparison. He smiled faintly.
“A little pep talk never killed anybody. They’re all here for you. We’re all here for you. I’m sure a few words from their Ambassador would be a good motivator.”
Octavia winced. “I-I’m not really good with speaking to crowds. That’s your thing.”
He smirked. “Guess you’re gonna pick up a new skill today, my fearless leader.”
She sighed. It wasn’t as terrifying as what awaited below her by a longshot, but the timid steps she took to the edge of the insignia were heart-pounding in a different way. For how many eyes were upon her, she was almost dizzy. It took conscious effort not to close her own eyes. Octavia couldn’t even fixate on a comforting face, given the way by which all of them were out of her peripheral vision.
She opted for Mina. It wasn’t her best plan, but it was a solid point of fixation as she spoke. The Essenced girl waved. She resisted the urge to wave back.
“U-Um,” Octavia began nervously, nearly digging her fingernails into Stradivaria, “t-thank you all for doing this. I’m…sorry it came to this, and I’m sorry that this ever happened in the first place.”
She bit her tongue, at least momentarily. They weren’t exactly the words she wanted to let out of her mouth in front of every Maestro who clung to them. She tried again.
“What happened to this city was awful. It wasn’t fair, and it wasn’t right. All Dissonance comes from somewhere, and this place is no different. Today, we’re not just fighting for Seraphim’s Call, but…maybe we can bring a little bit of peace to the people who need it.”
That, too, was a half-hearted thought. Should she turn around, she might find the disagreement upon Josiah and Celestina’s faces. After all, per the former’s words, most of the city had deserved its fate. Octavia tried once more.
“Seraphim’s Call might only be one Harmonial Instrument, but it’s a Harmonial Instrument regardless. If you’re still here, if you’re down here and ready to fight, I’m…assuming you like your partner. Maybe you love your partner just as much as I do. They’re…precious to us--all of us, I’d like to hope. We all want our partners to be happy, and we all want them to be able to go home. I’m sure Seraphim’s Call wants the same thing.”
This, at least, was something her heart could believe in.
“Think about how far you’d go for your partner. Maybe this is a little bit too extreme of a situation to imagine them in, and that’s okay! But…I’m selfish. I love all of them, and I want to go that far for every last one of them. Maybe that makes me a bad Ambassador, because I’m putting you all in danger for it. If that was you down there, though, wouldn’t you want someone to go that far for you?”
Octavia saw nods. She saw Mina’s grin yet again, bright and vivid. Faith was still as she soaked up every word.
“You’re all wonderful Maestros and Maestras--not just because you’re strong, or because you’re great at fighting, but because you cared enough to be here. Your legacy doesn’t determine that. It doesn’t matter to me if you’re Willful, or Soulful, or Spirited, or anything. It doesn’t matter if you’re here for me, or if you’re here for Seraphim’s Call. It doesn’t even matter to me if you’re here because you…just want to fight!”
Mina snickered. Octavia smiled.
“I’m just…happy that you’re here. There’s a lot of you I’ve never met before, and maybe after this, w-we could…get to know each other better. I’d like to meet your partners, too. I know I’m not the greatest Ambassador in the world, but I still want to do whatever I can to help everyone. If you’ve made it this far, then…thank you for believing in me. Thank you for giving me that chance.”
She hugged Stradivaria. “Please...keep standing by my side.”
They didn’t clap or cheer, for which Octavia was incredibly thankful. The subsequent embarrassment might’ve killed her before the Dissonance did. Still, every soft smile that was offered to her in unison, even upon faces she was still working to memorize, was enough to send chills down her spine and love through her blood. She beamed.
Mina mouthing the word “Heartful” to her repeatedly had her stifling a laugh. Only Faith withheld a smile of her own, glassy eyes discarded at her feet. Octavia wished she had the time to comfort her fellow Heartful, given the fear that was sure only to rise ever further once the floor beneath them surrendered.
Josiah’s hand upon her shoulder was warm. “Pretty good. I’m impressed. You would’ve gotten extra points if you made one of them cry, but it was a solid first try.”
Octavia rolled her eyes playfully. “You’re lucky I tried at all.”
“Are you ready?” he asked, his smile slipping.
Hers did the same. She took a deep breath. “This is as ready as I think I’m gonna get.”
Josiah nodded. “For Seraphim, alright?”
“For…Seraphim,” Octavia echoed quietly.
Josiah didn’t wrap his fingers around the tiny rope of the bell immediately, but his proximity to it was enough to make her heart race. His voice was clear once more. “It’s…not going to come out peacefully. It’s not gonna stay down there. We can’t let it get up the stairs. If it gets out of the church, even with Allison up there, we’re gonna have a repeat of the last time this happened on our hands. People will get hurt. We have to be able to either push it back, withstand the initial onslaught, or both.”
He turned to Briar, of all people. “You have an Apex. Out of curiosity, how strong is your ice?”
Briar tightened his grip on his bow, the fingers of one glove strained taut around the handle. “Extremely.”
Josiah adjusted his bangs. “Can you make a wall?”
Francisco grinned. “Damn, thought he’d never ask.”
River smiled, albeit softer. “Believe it or not, he’s actually pretty good at that.”
“Whether it’ll be enough to handle all of this remains to be seen,” Briar countered. “I can at least take the back.”
“Do you need the other Soulful?” Josiah asked.
Briar shook his head. “I should be fine.”
Josiah nodded. “Good. As far as going forward, we can’t just defend. That’s important, too, but we’re going to have to blast through it somehow. It’s gonna take everything we’ve got. Most of you are in pairs. If…one person’s on offense and the other’s on defense, we can make this work. The Ensemble and my circle will be fine with that. Mint and Francisco have two more Apexes. That should help with firepower.”
“Oh, I’ll show you firepower,” Francisco teased with the same brilliant grin, cracking his knuckles. How he could pull off such a feat one hand at a time was beyond Octavia, but it was more than audible. She was at least thankful he didn’t drop his partner.
Mint tapped her Harmonial Instrument twice with two delicate fingers for emphasis. The tiny, muted rattles that her gentle motions made would’ve been almost cute. Granted, what surely rested beyond her fingertips, when desired, would make her partner far more threatening. Octavia wondered if she’d get to see either Ensemble member in action.
“I don’t know how much of it is actually going to rush out and how much is going to stay down there, but last time wasn’t pretty. Last time wasn’t the entire city, and last time didn’t sound like this.”
Josiah hardly needed to emphasize the screeching and creaking, the metal plating practically groaning beneath the pressure of the agony straining against it. His brief, fleeting moment of silence was more than enough to prove a point.
“Once I pull this,” he spoke with a careful firmness, “there’s no going back. Get ready.”
Briar’s song was beautiful, actually.
It was like Octavia's own, if her own was notably richer and deeper. She was grateful for Stradivaria’s size, given that the instrument could nestle comfortably against her shoulder and be moved without effort. It was fitting, then, that it was Briar who’d stepped up to the task of sealing off their gate to Hell from the innocent blossom above, his towering glacier climbing high enough to kiss the ceiling. Octavia doubted it took little effort, given the gorgeous blue pigment that dove deep into the thickened crystal. Even from afar, her eyes deemed it impenetrable.
It shimmered somewhat under the weak candlelight that lined the walls, pitiful as it was in the face of such borderline artwork. Whatever doubts she’d had about the boy’s ability to stand up to the Dissonance en masse were quickly quashed by the sight of what qualified more as a barricade than a simple wall. Even if she could hear his icy melody at the moment, she lamented that she’d only gotten to witness his masterful playing for several brief moments prior to the crafting of the crystal shield. Octavia hadn’t earned the chance to pin down what kind of wood the cello was made of. It was going to bother her until she figured it out.
She raised Stradivaria to her shoulder, laying the bow carefully atop the bridge as always. Her fingers tensed. She readied her blood for the bubbling surge of heat she knew would come, should she cry out for it. She gave her eyes only to Josiah, his grip tight around the feeble string of the little bell. Octavia was vaguely aware of other instruments rising into position around her, whether in her immediate vicinity or distantly at her back. For a moment, she watched his fingers tremble. He closed his eyes.
Josiah didn’t dare look when he pulled down, one swift motion that brought the tiniest ting to her ears. It resonated clear above the screeching, far more audible than she’d expected. Only her own rattling breaths were louder.
Octavia knew of the delay, now aware of the manner by which the mechanism below her feet would take its time. In the shortest moment of peace that she could be granted, he outright sprinted behind her, the clacking of his shoes against the cobblestone challenging the muffled screeches instead. He was the only one who dared to move.
The iron was next. The moment it budged, even in the slightest, she braced herself against the floor. Her breathing quickened. The screeching grew louder every second. The more the plate scraped against the floor, rumbling all the while, the more the agony plagued her ears unseen. It was no longer distant.
“Octavia.”
Josiah was the one thing that she could hear above the noise, for how close to her he was. He’d stepped up slightly, content to stand next to her rather than hide behind her.
“I’m not leaving your side down there, no matter what. I’m gonna follow your every step, whether you see me or not. If I’m in front of you, I’m there. If I’m behind you, I’m there. I’m gonna fight to keep it that way.”
It was the first time Octavia had seen Dissonance since her encounter on the train to Solenford. That time, it had been Velrose-flavored. Its Velpyre equivalent, if the unfathomable volume of the screeching was any indicator, was one thousand times worse. The metal slid ever further, a crescent hole evolving into something wider and deeper. She couldn’t see the stairs through the slit. She couldn’t see anything except the violet smoke that had started to seep slowly upwards in faint wisps.
“I have nothing. I’m not a Maestro anymore. If I get separated from you, it’s over. I will die.”
They were no longer wisps. They were no longer subtle. They were thicker, cloudier. They were sneaking out from that little gap ever faster, enough that Octavia's muscles were straining from the effort of staying at the ready.
“I’m not trying to pressure you.”
Bang. She’d heard that sound once before, so long ago, in this very room.
“But I’m entrusting you with my life.”
Bang. It came once more, louder. Josiah's voice was shaking.
“Octavia,” he said, his breath rattling, “please protect me.”
Bang. Bang. Bang. It was unbearably loud, a pounding against metal that almost hurt her ears. She had an awful feeling that she knew where this was going, if the agonizingly-loud creaking that followed each time was any indicator. She could see dents. She could see cracks, the supposedly impenetrable iron be damned. Only violet filled the gap, sneaking its way through every crevice and rising unevenly.
She was aware of the way Josiah had tilted his head backwards. Octavia chanced a glance sideways. He was mouthing something to himself silently, eyes closed. Then, it was a whisper. She couldn’t hear it, even as he repeated the same motions with his lips again and again. Every bang and agonizing screech drowned out even her own breaths. It didn’t drown out his.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I take it back, please, I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
If she really, really tried, she could catch at least that much.
Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang.
Another crack. Another. Another. Another. Another.
Octavia couldn’t reach for his hand, not for how all of her attention needed to be on Stradivaria. She desperately wanted to, given the way he trembled so viciously and the way his eyes had grown so wide with fear as they’d opened. His ragged breaths were somehow steady. His false smirk was strained, distressed, his fingers shaking viciously as he struggled to brush his bangs out of his face.
“God,” Josiah muttered, his voice wobbling, “doing this backwards is gonna suck.”
The moment it gave way, she remembered words that she’d expected to have forgotten by now, for how often she’d heard Stradivaria’s voice time after time since then.
The ear-shattering screeching that followed the barrier’s demise was so intense that she feared the Maestros behind her might succumb to the onslaught of dizziness. The iron plate burst clean from whatever mechanisms had held it in place, outright launching from its positioning above the city staircase and cracking the ceiling. Initially, there was a split-second fear that it would fall and crush them. Where it landed was the least of her concerns, ultimately, given the absolute flood that blotted out every ounce of light her pupils could hunt for.
Octavia didn’t need to look for anyone else’s reactions. She didn’t need to listen for the notes and melodies that would spear into the dark. It didn’t matter. They’d be too slow. If the Dissonance from Velrose on the train had been fast, then this Dissonance would hardly let her blink. It was surely not the same Dissonance Josiah had managed to outrun.
Protect him.
She’d done it once. She had to do it again. She just needed to be faster.
Octavia didn’t bother to plead with her heart. It came out of her mouth first.
“Give me everything you have!” she screamed.
And you will have all I can give.
He crushed her. His pressure was blinding, obliterating, agonizing to a degree that she could hardly stand. It was exactly what she wanted, far stronger than that which she’d strived to tolerate atop the roof of the train that night. She couldn’t feel her fingers, although she knew they burned white-hot and moved at the speed of the light she’d become. She couldn’t move her legs, the sheer gravity of his power practically crumpling her as the weight of pure radiance weighed her down.
She was a conduit once more, an exploding sun that swallowed Stratos’ light and sent it back tenfold--maybe more. She didn’t close her eyes this time. If it burned, it burned, and by God, did it burn. Her blood filled with stars, and her fingers burst with the supernova that coursed through her veins. She couldn’t hear her own song--both secondary to the deafening screeching and the audible, sizzling heat that threatened to sear the very air around her. Octavia knew her fingers were moving. She knew she was playing. That was all that mattered.
Her surroundings were meaningless, her comrades unseen. She could hardly even see the Dissonance itself through the wrath of the sun she birthed before her. She felt it with a force that would’ve surely threatened to snap her bones in half and tear her muscles in two, were she not tethered by the pressure of his surging brilliance. It was in her every pore. It followed her song outwards along strings she couldn’t see and notes she couldn’t hear.
She’d made a shield once, a desperate bubble that had spared an innocent boy from a cruel fate in this very place. Back then, it had taken nearly all of her strength just to stand strong within that sea, fighting for her life to hold her breath and keep from drowning. Today, Octavia challenged the very ocean itself head-on, her own luminous sea crashing down onto wailing violet without remorse. Her throat ached, somewhat, and it was only then that she became aware of her own screaming. For how long she’d raged aloud, she was unsure. It didn’t matter.
If she were to be pushed back, she would push forward harder. If that flood of agony were to surge upon her, her valiant brilliance would surge right back. If there were those, defenseless, who pleaded for her protection, then she would sooner lay down her life than her light. She stole everything he had, devouring any shred of scathing luminescence that Stratos could bless her with. Octavia played for lives both her own and not, a meteor content to burst the sky wide open--murky, hazy, and vile as her sky was.
She threw her head back, gasping for oxygen to fuel her stars. She slashed at the strings viciously. It was with a cry that nearly ruptured her throat that she, too, gave everything she had from within to without. This time, her seared eyes were wide, wide open.
The blackened sea gave way beneath her onslaught, screeching and fizzling as it surrendered violently to the strength of the sun. Octavia couldn’t see how much, and she couldn’t see how far. Still, the degree to which she felt her pressurized light meeting less and less resistance was indicative enough. It truly was like an ocean, for how her radiance nearly cleaved the writhing violet fog in two. It went deep, shooting far, far down the length of the obscured stairs into a city plagued by much the same agony. It wasn’t enough by which to carve a continuous path, but it was enough for her to see to the bottom. It wouldn’t last.
Octavia hardly needed to catch her breath, and that alone was startling. Her muscles only ached in the slightest, her fingertips lonely in the absence of the light she’d stolen. Her body yearned for more, in a way. It was a new feeling, and she didn’t particularly hate it. His love felt right. It felt natural.
“Wow,” she heard River breathe in disbelief.
There was a moment of collective disorientation, truthfully, though she dared not look back to witness it. Her window of opportunity was closing, even if the purple wisps that still hugged the floor below hadn’t quite been quelled in full. She had her path down, unstable as it was. What awaited beyond that was anyone’s guess, and her passage surely wouldn't last. She didn’t give River the chance to lead. It was his fault for sharing that leadership with the Ambassador, after all.
“Now!”
And she didn’t bother turning around, ignoring the pounding of dozens of footsteps racing against the cobblestone. She gave no heed to the clinking of brass and wood and every material in between as they rose into position between skilled fingers. All that mattered was the way she shared Stradivaria’s bow with a hand not her own, one she hadn’t yet claimed of her own accord. With a fire in her heart that she couldn’t quell, it was without fear that Octavia dragged the boy who’d outrun agony into his own Hell once more.