The darkness on the way down, let alone the path forward, had been emphasized many times over. It still did no justice to the actual sight, or lack thereof, that greeted Octavia at the bottom of the stairs. Velpyre had never been a bright place to begin with, a city cursed by a kidnapped sun. It was only the crumbs of sunshine that tumbled through the stone ceiling, on occasion, that offered any semblance of salvation from damnation to eternal darkness. She didn’t even have that. There had been streetlamps, scattered and dim in their own right. Octavia didn’t bother trying to look for them, given her exceedingly poor visibility. That option, too, she lacked.
It was a darkness she could never have fathomed, a Hell of another kind augmented by the unbearably loud tell-tale screeching that enveloped her on all sides. She couldn’t see the Dissonance. If the way her head spun and her useless vision blurred were any indicators, it was there without question. It wasn’t nearly enough to deter her. It wasn’t enough to deter those who’d streamed down en masse behind her.
She couldn’t cling to Josiah for long, not given the way her plummeting visibility instantly warranted the light she so desperately needed. He was close enough, and Octavia could hear his labored breathing as he trailed her every footstep hurriedly. Already, her ears were giving way to sounds all around, foreign and beautiful in equal measure. The vast majority were unrecognizable, if not notes and harmonies she could pinpoint to specific instruments--presumably.
River had a point about the glistening treasure that was a luminescent legacy down below. Those blessed with both crackling flames and spearing lightning alike flashed their strengths in her peripheral vision like fireworks. Octavia, too, exploded to the best of her ability, fighting with every slash and swish of the bow to weave melodies of her own luminescence. They were precious, swirling and searing as they surged deep into the mist unseen. It was a beacon, a pulsing guide that parted the way forwards just a bit at a time. Now, more than ever, she offered thanks to her own efforts in learning to play effectively while mobile.
“Are you there?”
“I am!”
It was with significant effort and stray ribbons of radiance that she could see Josiah’s face in passing, illuminated for a brief moment at her side. Even if there was no sigh of relief to breathe, Octavia offered silent thanks for that, as well.
“Alright, I know you said it’d be dark, but damn!”
Octavia couldn’t fully see his partner, not with the vivid clouds of violet that veiled his visage. Still, the flames Francisco brought to life with his resonating chords were explosive, pulsing and swirling in a way that was as gorgeous as it was effective. The quantity alone spoke to his possession of power she knew to belong to an Apex, and it was well at home in his deft hands. It was a kind of harmony she wasn’t privy to often, his song fast and flawless as his fires surged forth.
It was through him that the Ensemble was clear, roughly ten feet to her right as they stuck close to one another. At their center, Celestina sprinted with everything she had, perfectly ensnared in a triangle of powerful guardians. Each and every time the Dissonance threatened to close the small window of visibility between the Ambassador and the former acolyte yet again, Francisco cut it down in the most mesmerizing way. Octavia tried not to trip. If she really, really squinted, she could make out the strings flicking against his bare fingers--buried in flames as they were. For only the passing glance she’d stolen earlier, distracted as she’d been, she made a mental note to figure out what kind of wood that was, later, too.
“Can you see us?” she heard River cry.
If Octavia narrowed her eyes and stole the very edges of Francisco’s flames with her eyes, she could find him at the head of their unit. “I see you!” she called back urgently.
“Are you alright?” he asked above the screeches.
“I’m fine!”
“Where’s your circle?”
Octavia had a split second of panic, her eyes darting beyond the edges of her ambling light with horror. There was a moment during which she feared the worst, and she fixed her terrified eyes on Josiah. His own, not nearly as worried, scanned the dark for much the same as her. Octavia opened her mouth to cry out, to plead for them one name at a time.
When she found swirling flames aloft to her left, as well, her heart crawled its way out of her stomach. They weren’t the flickering, powerfully-delicate chords and notes of a guitar. They were notes she knew by heart, and the sight of Harper's face brought with it the very faintest images of more yet around him.
“Okay, this kinda sucks,” Renato complained loudly.
“Where’s Josiah?” Madrigal called.
It was a question Octavia hoped she wouldn’t have to ask too often, if at all. “I’m here!” Josiah called calmly, raising his hand through the dark.
“Remember to breathe once in a while,” Viola chided, unseen.
And Harper did, gasping as Royal Orleans left his lips for a moment. “Easier said than done!” he cried.
The moment his embers began to flicker and fade in the open air, he went right back to the same with what oxygen he’d gathered. Between the five of them, this was going to be a problem. At the very least, Francisco didn’t need to rely on his breath. To Octavia’s credit, neither did she. She pushed down on each string just the slightest bit harder, praying for the radiance in her blood to burn just the slightest bit brighter.
“Don’t tire yourself out!” she called to Harper. “I’m here, too! Just stay close to me, all of you!”
“That was kind of the plan!” Viola half-teased, her voice taut.
“River,” Josiah shouted, “it’s a straight shot to the church! Stay on the main road and you’ll be fine! The whole city leads to the church naturally, so keep going forward and you’ll hit it for sure!”
Distantly, on the cusp of Francisco’s flames once more, Octavia saw the Spirited boy nod. “Got it!”
“If we get separated, meet us there! We’ll be right behind you!”
“Understood!”
The darkness was only half of Octavia’s problem, given the way the other half was its catalyst in the first place. It was exceedingly difficult to avoid touching what she could hardly see. Any attempts to ascertain the quantity of Dissonance in any given direction were mostly futile. True, natural darkness had intertwined so closely with that born of pain and suffering, and there was no point in searching for violet where color would escape her regardless. The idea that desperate flames and a guiding light were the only things between her and being swallowed by vicious smoke was downright nauseating. The actual nausea wasn’t helping.
“You’re there?”
“I’m here,” Josiah offered again.
“I can’t tell where any of it is!” Viola cried.
Even if Octavia could hear the shrill screams of Silver Brevada, the screeching was far too loud for her to capture the sounds of crystal sailing through the air. She knew it to be true, for how hard each note was pushed from Viola’s lips. Where she was aiming was anyone’s guess.
“It’s gonna get worse the further we go!” Josiah called. “The closer we get to the residential areas, the more--”
“Move!” Octavia screamed, nearly barreling into him as she lunged. It was a miracle that she'd noticed the fast-moving trail of mist gaining on him at all, poised to crash into his side without hesitation. She was as quick as she could be. Her heart pounded as her blood surged and the brilliance beneath her fingertips followed suit. Her rays took flight, spearing through the air and sinking deep into the writhing agony that targeted Josiah. Without a moment to spare, it had burst with an intolerable shriek that made her dizzy. It was distressing, in a way, that she’d gotten so used to it over time.
Her sudden attack was enough to thoroughly rattle Josiah, and his breaths were rattling just as severely. He recovered from his stagger as quickly as possible, stumbling somewhat as he pressed onwards again.
“Are you okay?” Octavia cried.
“I-I’m fine!” he called back.
She winced at the wobble in his voice. “Where’s the residential area, then?”
“I-I can’t tell where we are!” Josiah admitted. “I’m trying not to look down too much, but this still looks like the main road!”
“Get behind me!”
Again, she’d hardly had the time--or the visibility--to notice the speed at which the Dissonance had closed the gap between her and whatever room she'd had to sprint. Octavia's heart nearly stopped, for how close her face had come to the tide of blackened fog swirling ruthlessly before her. It was sudden enough, too, that Josiah had nearly slammed into it in turn. She skidded to a stop, her boots chafing the ground below with far too little friction as she spilled her pulsing brilliance onto Stradivaria’s strings. Again was she spared by the tiniest of windows, her light quickly swallowed by the surging Dissonance in turn. Just as the rising mass screamed, she wanted to do the same.
“Where’s River?”
“What?”
That was exactly what she’d been worried about. It finally happened.
Even if Josiah couldn’t explicitly prove that they were entering an area he’d come to fear, the ever-thickening artificial darkness was serving as a highly suspicious indicator. The moment she ceased to witness Francisco’s bursting flames, his searing song stolen from her ears, Octavia began to panic somewhat. Keeping up her light in the face of pure terror was a struggle. Her fingers trembled against the strings.
“I-I don’t see him! Where are they?” Octavia shouted, her voice wobbling.
“It’s okay,” Josiah reassured. “We planned for this, remember? They know where to meet us! They’ll be fine! Keep going!”
Again was she besieged, although this time from the right. Again was her reaction time pushed to the limit, a trial by fire as to how quickly the stars could burst from her blood. Octavia fired every ray she could fabricate in such a short window, spearing the Dissonance that set upon her without mercy. Once more, it screeched, and once more was she forced to battle the dizziness that came with its all-too-close presence.
Running was getting difficult. Where she’d been blessed by speckled fireworks on the edges of her vision before, the most luminous of legacies sparing her from the depths of darkness, she was now finding less of the same. Octavia could’ve sworn it was getting darker, if that was even possible. If Josiah’s words were to be believed, it was perhaps the Dissonance that was growing thicker, instead.
She felt a breeze, far too distant for her liking. It was residual, not meant for her vicinity. The singular, strongly-audible swear that came with it didn’t match. They were puzzle pieces of a voice and a legacy she couldn’t put together. They weren’t necessarily coming from the same direction.
“Madrigal!” Octavia called desperately. “Renato!”
For a moment, a singular icicle finally made it past her head, cutting through the pitch-black agony that challenged her northwestern flank. It sailed clear past one of her braids, and she was thankful that it had missed by several inches. Josiah’s concern regarding friendly fire, it seemed, was also not without reason. If Octavia pushed hard enough, if she let the luminous pulsing beneath her skin burn hot enough, she could just barely see the satin bow that bounced with every frantic footstep. The Maestra struggled to keep up, and Octavia lamented her inability to slow down by much.
“Viola!” she cried anyway.
“I’m here!” Viola called back, her voice far more level. “She’s over here!”
“I’m gonna be honest with you, I don’t even know where I am!” Octavia overheard.
“Play so I can see you!”
Granted, the raging flames of Royal Orleans, for as vivid and bright as they were, were at least enough to challenge the opaque veil of violet with a scarlet glow. Octavia could hear enough subsequent shrieking that she assumed Harper had hit something, if nothing else. Whether or not it was intentional remained to be seen.
“I don’t know how that’s supposed to help me figure out where you are!”
“Where are Madrigal and Renato?” Octavia asked with panic.
Viola shook her head, her face still just barely visible. “I don’t know! I think I heard them, but I don’t know where they ended up!”
Octavia’s breath hitched in her throat. “Neither of them can see!”
“They’ll be fine!” she reassured. “Worry about yourself and we’ll figure something out!”
“Josiah!” Octavia called, her voice wavering once more.
“I’m still here!”
His words were close, borderline glued to her side. For that, she counted at least one blessing.
“Keep playing!” Viola shouted.
“I’m trying!”
Harper’s voice was fainter, the glow of his flames through the writhing clouds of Dissonance weaker. His melody was nearly inaudible, swallowed by the song of agony itself. At the very least, Octavia could imagine that Renato and Madrigal had each other. In the worst-case scenario, one had an Apex. One had a legacy crowned by incredible power. If Harper ended up alone, she feared the worst.
“Don’t stop!” Octavia screamed. It took effort to steer the flight of her luminous attacks, channeling what little resistance she’d offered in front of her towards the direction of his dim glow instead. Over and over, she hurled ray after ray into the murky fog. Every screech was far from a victory, even as it gave way bit by bit. She chipped away at the writhing wall with everything she had, adrenaline flooding her veins and her fingers trembling as she slashed her bow across the strings desperately. “Keep playing! Don’t stop playing!”
Her light outlasted Harper's. Her voice did the same. When Octavia could no longer find the little glow that had grown so distant, she wanted to cry. Viola gritted her teeth.
“We can’t leave him alone!” Octavia wailed.
“Someone will find him!” Viola attempted to reassure once more, doing what she could to assault much the same clouds as Octavia. “There’s Maestros everywhere, even if we can’t see them!”
“There’s not that many! Please, we can’t just leave him there!”
Josiah grabbed her wrist and pulled. In her surprise, Octavia forgot to fight back.
“Remember why we’re here!” Josiah chided. “Trust him! Trust all of them, okay? Trust that they can fight for themselves!”
In reality, they hadn’t actually made it more than roughly ten hasty steps forward, as frantic as each step had been. They were quick. Viola was not. It dawned on Octavia far too late. In the five seconds it took to sink in, it wasn’t enough to yank her wrist out of Josiah’s grip.
Octavia sprinted in reverse, claiming the steps she’d just surrendered with frantic desperation.
“Viola!” she screamed at the top of her lungs.
“Octavia!”
“Where are you?”
“I can’t see you!”
Octavia played for her life, undaunted as she charged directly towards the thick, rolling mass of smoke that had barred her path backwards. Even as she poured her light into it time after time, her hands shaking as her blood bubbled and radiance blasted forth from every string, her efforts were futile in the face of concentrated agony. She knew the Soulful Maestra was there. She could hear Silver Brevada screaming on the other side, a hellish partition crashing between them that she couldn’t force her way through.
“Octavia!”
“Viola!”
It was fainter. Octavia had surpassed desperate. Closer it came, wisps of violet stinging the tips of her boots. She didn’t budge, stinging the wall right back.
“Keep playing! I can hear you! I’m still here!” Octavia cried, her voice cracking.
“Keep going!”
“Don’t stop playing!”
“I’ll find you, just keep going!”
“Don’t stop playing, okay? Don’t stop! Show me where you are!”
It was burning her face. It was searing her skin, hot and cold all at once. Even in the dark, Octavia knew it was there, staring her dead in the eyes and awaiting her with agony’s kiss. She’d felt it before, and she knew it would hurt fiercely. She refused to move.
“Viola!”
There was nothing. It was starting to burn.
“Viola!”
Octavia probably would’ve let it swallow her whole, had the collar of her dress not been yanked backwards sharply enough to choke her. She stumbled into firm arms that grasped her tightly through her tears, Stradivaria trembling in the confines of either hand.
“You have to trust her, too!” Josiah reminded, holding her close. “They’ll all be okay!”
“She can’t see!” Octavia sobbed. “She can’t see anything! She can’t run! She can’t breathe!”
“She’s a Maestra, Octavia!” Josiah argued. “She made it this far! Don’t underestimate her! You’re better than that! You absolutely have to trust them--all of them!”
“Josiah--”
“Please!”
The look in his eyes hurt. Somewhere between confident and fearful, his gaze as he met her own was punctuated by shaky breaths and equally-shaking hands clamping down on her shoulders. Octavia found eyes that she hated more than the ice that had frozen her blood solid. She hated them more than the lightning that had threatened to strike her heart. For all defensive intents and purposes, she, too, was now technically alone. There was little a humble knife could do to strike back against agony.
Protect him.
There was one singular person that she absolutely could not afford to lose in the dark.
Octavia swallowed what burning sobs she could, nodding without the hope and resolution she wished she could carry. Josiah couldn’t take her hand, settled upon Stradivaria as it was. Regardless, he still stuck tightly to her side as they charged onwards. Octavia's own footsteps were shaky and hesitant, laced with a drive to plunge into the darkness and scream for what had been lost. Josiah alone kept her facing forwards, the afterimage of sharp, stinging eyes on her own fresh enough to burn. He matched each of her steps almost perfectly, and she clung to his voice in desperation above the screeching that assailed her on every side.
“I can still see the road,” Josiah called, even close as he was. “We’re still going the right way! How are you holding up?”
It was taking effort to balance offense and defense alike, punching deep into the mist that skirted far too close to her arms and ankles for comfort. Octavia’s typical method of building a radiant reserve was fruitless. The degree to which all of her light was so frantically needed quashed any concept of clinging to her luminous arsenal. The swirling ribbons and pulsating orbs that typically orbited her with patience instead were put to use instantly, one after another.
Time and time again, it was hardly enough, and carving a path forward alone was a feat in and of itself. The battle to steady her breathing was far more tethered to panic than any true threat to her stamina. Even so, the latter wasn’t flawless. She gritted her teeth.
“I’m okay!” she half-lied.
It wasn’t as though she had an alternative. They were already in peril just by virtue of being here in the first place. To come to a stop now was to seal their fate once and for all--his, especially. Octavia was aware Josiah knew better than to offer a reprieve, regardless. She still did the same.
“What about you?”
“I’m fine!”
A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
Octavia hated that she couldn’t keep her eyes on him at all times, her attention torn between survival and companionship. She’d stopped counting the searing rays that had launched from her speedy fingertips, the awful dichotomy of her luminous melody and the sounds of suffering incarnate cursing her ears ruthlessly. It was on her left. She blasted it back with sizzling slashes of her bow once more.
“How close are we?”
Her divided light laid claim to as much of his face as possible, and even then found far too little of his visage for comfort. Josiah shook his head, narrowing his eyes. “I can’t tell! We haven’t been going for that long! It’s still at least another--”
It was on his right. With her blinding blasts came raging fear, eating away at her heart. She regretted how close she’d had to aim, just barely missing his shoulder. Octavia wondered if she’d burned him in the process, a thought that made her heart beat ever faster. Josiah’s wide, alarmed eyes did little to confirm or deny her suspicions.
“I-It’s still at least another ten minutes’ worth of running at this speed, at minimum!” he continued, his voice shaking.
“Ten minutes?” she repeated with shock.
“At least! I-I can’t make out any landmarks in the dark, even with your light!”
It was at her back. Was there a point in striking through it if she sought to flee from its vicious grasp? Octavia could feel the scathing, icy sensation licking at her ankles once more. She had to be faster. She prayed he could, too. Was this what he’d felt like, in his darkest hour?
“Don’t turn around!” Josiah yelled.
“I know, I know!”
It was far too close, tangling with her braids and kissing the back of her neck. Even if she couldn’t see it, the screeching burrowed deep into her eardrums. Octavia had to fight to keep her eyes open, what little visibility she had already succumbing to the blurring and spinning she loathed. Her fingers felt sluggish. It was Hell. That was ironic.
Octavia felt a sharp tug around her wrist, at which she truly did stumble to the ground. It was more of an assault on her person than a guiding touch. She found herself violently yanked sideways, rather. She crashed to the ground below, and the rough texture bashing into her knees was enough to drag a cry of pain from her throat. Something--someone--was draped over her back, their body heat in stark contrast to the scalding adrenaline that besieged her veins. Octavia panted. So did they.
“Stay down!” Josiah ordered weakly.
It was by sheer luck that they’d dodged just enough to the right to seize a moment of safety, the smoky tide at their heels surging past without drowning them in turn. Octavia didn’t want to look. She didn’t want to hear it, although that part was inevitable. It surely wouldn’t be the only instance of such rapid coagulation, and she didn’t want to be prone for whatever instance targeted her next. In contrast to the shrieks of violet agony, she could just barely capture distant and beautiful harmonies unknown. They were scattered, granted, although she at least counted more than one.
“I hear Maestros,” she offered, spared of the need to shout with his face so close to hers.
That didn’t last long. Josiah jerked her swiftly to her feet, and she staggered into his arms. “Their job is to fight. Our job is to run. If we find one, we can pair up for an escort. Otherwise, we don’t have the leeway to seek one out ourselves.”
“How are you so calm?” Octavia asked, her hands shaking as she raised Stradivaria to her shoulder yet again.
Josiah shook his head, his face strained. “I’m not.”
Octavia didn’t get the chance to digest his words. The manner by which the horrifyingly-close screeches edged ever closer to their position shattered her one reprieve. Already, his hand was around her wrist, and the way he tugged her forwards was perhaps a reflex--Stradivaria be damned. “Come on!”
She didn’t fight his spurning, although she was forced to at least reclaim her hand from his iron grip. Her light was as steady as ever, equally powerful and equally abundant. The issue laid not in her shimmering prowess, but in the plentiful false darkness that only continued to condense and swell. It was an endless process that felt useless. She repeated her eternal cycle of sprinting, firing, targeting, succeeding, and nearly succumbing. Octavia had pure adrenaline to thank for salvation. It was a hellish pattern only content to change directions with every radiant blow.
Josiah’s singular, sharp swear startled her. He repeated it once over, then twice and thrice with panic and wide eyes.
“What’s wrong?” Octavia cried above the audible agony.
His fearful gaze flickered forward and to his feet several times consecutively. “We’re not on the main road anymore!”
“What?”
“I don’t know how long we’ve been off of it, either!”
Her heart struggled to burst from her chest. “The city slopes downwards, though! Can’t we just keep following what we feel?”
“We can try, but it’s not overwhelmingly obvious on the outskirts!”
“And you think that’s where we are?”
“I don’t know where we are!” Josiah shouted. “I’m not sure what direction we’re facing!”
Octavia could barely breathe. She doubted any amount of light, given their current situation, would be enough to gather a clear enough view for reorientation. “What do we do?”
Josiah paused. Octavia could hear him exhale sharply, even sprinting as he was. “We might actually need to find a Maestro at this point! Maybe several of them! It’s probably gonna take more than just the two of us to find our way down there from wherever we are!”
If Octavia listened closely, she could still hear songs both sharp and soft alike, seemingly far-off in every direction. She swore, too, that she could capture the absolute faintest flashes of scarlets and golds through the billowing clouds. They were consistent. If she wished, she could select one alone and hone in on any given luminous target. The idea that one might be Harper gave her just the smallest smidge of hope, and she prayed with everything she had that each of them were safe--perhaps even together.
“There’s ones with luminescence out there! I can see them! If we pick one and--”
Octavia had been distracted. It was absolutely, undeniably her own fault. It was her fault when her fingers just barely burst with radiance in time, and it was her fault when the light that the violin shot deep into the raging haze wasn’t enough to stave off yet more that lay behind it. It singed her cheeks, it scalded her neck, and it stung her hands with such unforgiving brutality that she screamed.
It was a detriment of the worst kind that she’d learned to tolerate the numbing qualities of Dissonance, standing semi-strong in the face of vertigo and debilitating fatigue that once would’ve had her unconscious by now. It left her with pain, and she questioned whether or not such an experience was truly universal.
The force that repelled her was entirely tangible, bilateral upon both of her shoulders.
It was as gentle as it was desperate, as heavy as it was fleeting.
Unaccompanied by pleas for aid or cries of suffering, it was Josiah, instead, who silently disappeared into the dark on her behalf.
On the very last vestiges of her dying light, her burning fingers long since stilled, the fire bubbling in his eyes instead was doused only by the terror that it fueled. She would never forget that look on his face as long as she lived.
The briefest moment of disorientation and disbelief evolved into a devastating and explosive grief for that which her gaze couldn't capture. She knew he was there. She couldn’t see him. That was enough to rip her soul to pieces. Her own shrieking put the agony that had swallowed him to shame.
“Josiah!” Octavia wailed. “Josiah, Josiah, Josiah, Josiah!”
Nothing.
His name was on every anguished note, her plea upon every despairing harmony. It didn’t bring Josiah back, nor did her light deliver unto her his silhouette. Panic was an understatement. There were precisely two people within the Hell of the Cursed City for whom isolation instantly flipped an hourglass to demise. His clock was ticking. It was the only thing she was supposed to have prevented.
Octavia had been to Velpyre one time and one time only, a voyage which she had wished on every star in the sky to never repeat. Without her missing guide, she, too, was absolutely lost. It was far from her primary source of panic, the true Hell of loneliness in the dark settling onto her shoulders. It took everything in her power to strike a balance between saving her strength and screaming his name as she ran aimlessly.
She considered begging for Stratos’ blessing once more, eager to be consumed by his light and send it back tenfold into the abyss. That would leave the concern of being bound in place, a singular and localized assault with no known finite radius. By the time she was through, her path cleared once more, Josiah could very well already be dead--or worse. He might not have even been in her vicinity anymore, provided he’d managed to break free of the wrathful fog that had laid claim to his body. From her angle, it had seemed brutal. Octavia knew this scenario to be eerily similar to one he’d endured not so long ago. She clung to the idea that Josiah could outrun agony a second time over. It was all he had.
It was all she had, too, given the lack of luminosity that was adjacent to her current position. Every flickering glow and spark in the distance was opposite to Josiah’s last location, and she was again stumbling blindly about in the dark. Her cycle of self-preservation was still just as endless, the Dissonance still just as deadly.
Octavia cast her eyes high in desperation, begging for the slightest pinpricks of sunshine from above to penetrate the ruthless pain below. Even now, the screaming smoke rose far too high, blotting out the crumbs of light she could’ve been granted. She had half a mind to wonder if it could slip through cracks so tiny, speckled as they were. It was a problem she could only leave in the hands of the Velrose Acolyte alone, should the girl make such a discovery.
Octavia had no idea how long she’d been running. She had no idea how long they’d been fighting. She had no idea where she was. Stradivaria, in her skilled hands, came bundled with confidence. It wasn’t her life she feared for. It was those she couldn’t see, those she struggled to hear, those she knew to be defenseless. Was he running? Was he scared? Were his eyes still just as fearful and his determination just as fabricated? Tears pricked at the edges of her own. She wasn’t quite sobbing as she played, but she could hear the audible sizzle each time one plopped upon the burning strings.
“Octavia?”
It was a voice she’d only heard a handful of times over, meek and sorrowful as it was.
It was diagonal, closer and closer as its owner found her right flank. Octavia had to guess, initially. It wasn’t one with whom she was well-acquainted, and it certainly wasn’t one she’d expected to find alone. There was no song for her ears to latch on to, nor any luminescence she could’ve begged for. There was only the swish of a skirt that grazed her own dress with every hurried step, somewhat slower than her own. Octavia's eyes widened. For her and her alone, she absolutely needed to make an effort to slow her sprint.
“Celestina?” she yelled.
“Are you alright?” the woman called above the Dissonance, her voice somehow still just as soft.
Octavia never stilled her hands, although stemming her tears was a different story. “I-I’m fine!” she struggled to stammer. “How are you here? Where’s your--”
“Hey there, Heartful!”
She found her luminescence in words alone, her heart igniting with sparkling solace. The former acolyte wasn't truly alone, trailed close by a grin nearly bright enough to challenge the darkness on its own. There was no sigh of relief to breathe. She could at least conjure one in her head.
“Mina?” Octavia cried with surprise.
Mina nodded, even with her steps hurried and her hands occupied with tiny metal. “Did you miss me?” she teased.
Octavia blinked what sorrow she could from her eyes, sending at least some of her radiance swirling and spiraling around Celestina’s body. She doubted her Maestra partner had the legacy privileges to offer the same protection. “How did you find me?”
“I didn’t!” Mina shouted. “She did!”
The woman in question was silent, content to trust in Octavia’s luminous defenses as she ran onwards. Octavia eyed her with significant confusion, even if she couldn’t claim the same focused gaze for herself.
“What do you mean? How did you know where I was?”
“We got separated!” Celestina yelled back. “There’s not a lot of us le--”
“Yes, but how did you find me?”
“I knew where you were!”
“How?”
“I could sense you!”
Octavia stared her down. “You’re not a Maestra!”
“I know!” Celestina cried.
“Figure it out later!” Mina interrupted. “Eyes forward!”
Octavia understood her point immediately. She’d been lucky to make it a solid minute uninterrupted in a straight line. Her streaming light had largely been a deterrent for the billowing violet that sought to press her from the sides, and she was grateful. Her luck had run out, as could ultimately be expected.
She nearly skidded to a stop in the face of the Dissonance that barred her path forward, yet another barrier of writhing, shrieking agony that greeted her with only malice incarnate. She stood up well enough to the dizziness and exhaustion that followed its proximity. Celestina wasn't quite as lucky, staggering and nearly losing her balance. Even within the minor safety of Octavia’s swirling radiance, it wasn’t enough to shield her senses.
Celestina was frail, somewhat. Octavia had her work cut out for her, offense and defense cleaved clean down the middle yet again. Sweat dripped from her brow in place of what was once tears, still fizzing out on the superheated bridge of the violin. Her obstacle wasn't stationary, nor was it squarely before her eyes alone. So, too, was her peripheral vision compromised. The way she took several steps backwards was instinctive, and she braced herself against the ground. Managing two types of light at once was going to be a trial by fire.
“Let’s take ‘em out!”
Mina never pushed her to that point. Neither did the Ensemble member who put Octavia’s speed to shame, her eyes razor-sharp as she kicked hard off the ground. In reality, there was another person in Octavia’s own circle, too, that Mint could challenge athletically. [♪]
Whether or not that was secondary to what was possibly not mortal prowess was semi-irrelevant. Just as Octavia had learned to keep her light in reserve, the breathtaking display by which the thunderbolts surged and crackled around the girl was unfathomably impressive. It was a first impression of true mastery of a legacy, the likes of which Octavia had never seen granted to the wrathful plasma streaming about her body.
How Mint wasn’t shocking herself with every effortless vault onto her hands and every unflinching tumble across the open air, Octavia couldn’t begin to wrap her head around. She wasn’t nearly as forceful as Renato, nor did her momentum carry her anywhere even slightly as high. Her flexibility was on a different level entirely, and she didn’t hesitate to put it to incredible usage. Even as the Dissonance grazed her in passing, it never once touched upon her skin. Instead, it met only the surging discharge that flickered around her entire being.
Mint raised her arm high the moment her feet touched solid ground one more. All it took was one shake, one seemingly-innocent little rattle, and a forceful downward swing of her wrist. She struck agony down, her lightning crashing deep into the cloud that absolutely screamed in turn. It was given no reprieve, and each rattle and tap that followed birthed only more of the same. They trailed her every motion, guided by skilled fingers that left Octavia briefly convinced the girl was harnessing such power on her own.
From a distance, the legacy appeared to be almost hers to keep, with how perfectly her Harmonial Instrument served as an extension of herself. Every sizzling flourish, crowned by feats of evasive speed and flexibility that sent her tumbling both airborne and not, was mesmerizing. Octavia couldn’t look away, not with the honed precision by which the girl beat upon the wailing violet again and again and again. She was perfect.
“You’re killing it out there, Sunstryke! Knock ‘em dead!” Mina cheered.
Mint grinned devilishly.
It was a face not her own, a look Octavia would sooner expect from Mina instead.
“Naturally.”
It was the first word Octavia had ever heard leave the girl’s mouth. It was achingly familiar.
“And you, child, will you not stand your ground? Come, prove your worth and show the Ambassador the brilliance of your legacy!”
In the heat of battle, the dripping, cocky charisma wasn’t as annoying. Mint was moving too quickly for Octavia to hunt down the Apex in her eyes. The voice was enough. She had to wonder how much of the Maestra’s movements were truly her own, as suspected. If Madrigal’s several instances of surrender to a greater power were anything to go by, there was at least some component of personal prowess to be considered. It was still an absolutely spectacular sight.
Mina answered the Apex’s challenge without fail, an all-too-eager grin of her own spreading rapidly from ear to ear. “Don’t need to tell me twice!”
If it was Mina’s first time fighting in earnest, Octavia never would’ve guessed. Her eyes were as sharp as the lightning that coursed through her blood, for how quickly she chased down the plague of writhing smoke that threatened her back. So preoccupied was Octavia with guarding Celestina that she hadn’t noticed its approach. Mina wasn't even slightly as athletic as Mint, whether augmented by the magnificent power of an Apex or not. It didn’t impede her determination one bit, her hurried flight towards the Dissonance rather than away commendable in its own right. Octavia had wondered for days how such a little Harmonial Instrument could do any true semblance of damage. As it turned out, Mina was a beautiful conduit.
Savior’s Resplendence wasn't dissimilar to Stradivaria, really, at least in how Octavia recognized that firm and confident grip. In the wake of the sizzling bolts that were born upon every tender tap of a tambourine, the glimmer captured along each metal edge was majestic in its own way. There was something so like Mina in how she wielded the tiny rod as a weapon itself, its size notwithstanding between her rigid fingers. It was so small, truthfully, that the buzzing sparks crackling in her hand almost appeared to be hers to keep, too. Only Mina’s delighted grin, unbending and growing ever brighter with each measured step towards the darkness, was more electric by comparison.
She skidded to a halt before the plague of murky purple, well-illuminated by both Octavia’s residual radiance around Celestina and Mint’s thunderous assault. The luminescence between the three of them was a blessing, growing yet more splendorous. Mina’s contribution couldn't be dismissed in the slightest.
The cute, innocent little ting of the rod striking upon iron brought with it the most explosive golds Octavia had ever seen.
The blessing of Mina’s legacy quite literally erupted forth, splintering thunderbolts raining from on high haphazardly before her. They were plentiful, distributed, and not limited to a single billowing target. The Dissonance outright scattered. The craters she’d blasted deep into the violet speared into each cloud with such ferocity that even the glow from within prompted Octavia to squeeze her eyes shut. The sound was intolerable, the screeching far outmatched in volume. Even from here, Octavia could sense the aura of pride that rippled around the Maestra.
Mina turned her head to face yet more of the same, undaunted and just as elated in the face of agony itself. Once more, with a flick of her wrist, the very air around her seemed to dry to a crisp. Octavia could feel the stray hairs of her braids standing on edge as the atmosphere began to crackle. Mina, too, wasn't immune to frazzled hair and sparking fingertips. With another ting, she brought the full prowess of the essence of lightning smashing down into the fog below. This, in its own way, was breathtaking. Octavia huddled closer to Celestina as she played, encircled of her own accord by lightning that struck against false darkness again and again.
Octavia bore witness to the spectacle for a solid minute, steeped in awe at the stamina and skill of both Essenced Maestras. They worked incredibly well in tandem, filling in what gaps the other had silently left. Their lightning often crossed paths in much the same way, wordlessly taking turns beating upon the earth whenever one’s sharp focus had shifted somewhere far more important. If there was a partner Mina would’ve done excellently down here with, it was surely the one that would’ve forced her to break the luminescence rule. That was, too, surely worth it.
“Where’s your little boytoy?” she heard Mina call above her crackling storm.
“What?”
“Lightning bug! Where is he? He was with you, right?”
Her heart had never stopped pounding, and she had never forgotten about him for a moment. Still, Octavia cursed herself for becoming occupied with Celestina’s protection over Josiah’s, even essential as it was. “I-I don’t know! We got separated!”
“He’s Essenced! Can you see his lightning anywhere?”
Octavia winced. “Mina, he’s not a Maestro!”
Mina’s eyes widened, even as she maintained her focus. “What?”
“I guided the Muse in his Harmonial Instrument! He was a Maestro before, but he’s not anymore! He’s defenseless right now! I need to find him or he’ll die!” she cried.
Mina clicked her tongue. “Guess that explains why he wasn’t planning to fight,” she muttered, just barely audible. “And here I thought we were a match made in Heaven!”
Mina cast her eyes back to Mint. “Help me out!”
“As you wish,” the Apex’s charismatic voice came on Mint’s behalf.
Mina pinched the tiny string firmly between her fingers, the iron below it glistening as it dangled freely. “You okay by yourself? We can’t leave Celestina! Where River and Francisco ended up is anyone’s friggin’ guess!”
Octavia didn’t want to say yes. She didn’t particularly have a choice. “I’ll be fine!”
Mina bent her knees slightly. “We’re gonna give you somethin’ to work with! You’re only gonna have it for a few seconds, so make the most of it! Good luck, Heartful!”
Octavia didn’t get to question the Maestra. Still, she withdrew her light, trusting in Celestina’s momentary safety beneath their skilled defenses. Given their legacies, the Ambassador, too, saw fit to brace. Against what, she was unsure.
“Prepare yourself, child!” the Apex called.
“Hit me!”
Mina arched one arm far back, her knuckles nearly scraping the ground. With impressive force, she lobbed the edged iron high, high into the air above Octavia’s head. Octavia’s eyes followed instinctively as it rose ever higher, initially puzzled by Mina’s sudden surrender to utter defenselessness. She figured out the girl’s wild rationale in the most startling way.
Mint, with yet another rolling rattle and firm tap of her palm atop the skin of the tambourine, brought her brilliant bolts sailing just as high. The collision was devastating, the makeshift lightning rod that was Savior’s Resplendence splintering the girl’s electricity like a river. The sound was borderline unbearable, the resulting boom surely stretching far and wide across Velpyre.
The luminosity that followed was practically blinding in turn, fleeting as it was. It crackled and lingered, echoes of sparking thunderbolts jittering through the atmosphere in the aftermath of the strike. Celestina had squeezed her eyes shut. Octavia had to fight to keep hers open, the intent of Mina’s actions dawning on her at the last possible second.
Her eyes darted frantically in every conceivable direction, her way newly paved by the brief dome of lightning that had crowned her sight and the earth beneath her. The way the Dissonance screamed under the weight of the assault was the least of Essenced successes, her illuminated and accessible paths far more important. Octavia clung to every last fizzling spark that evaporated into the air, each crumb of fleeting light just barely enough to bless her for seconds more. Blood rushed through her ears, just as adrenaline rushed through her veins. Her window was shrinking.
Far, far to her distant left, she spotted what she believed was the main road. Octavia recognized the streetlights, dim and useless as they were. She couldn’t quite see the church over the buildings and houses, although it wasn't even slightly her priority at the moment--ironically. She made the absolute tiniest of mental notes as to its location, provided she could stay oriented long enough to follow in that direction again.
In her peripheral right, by comparison, trailing the absolute outskirts of her vision, she could’ve sworn she saw the canvas of a bag. She recognized the color, so out of place amongst murky violet.
She was sprinting before Stradivaria had even touched her shoulder. She didn’t bother with Josiah's name, clinging to the last vestiges of Essenced luminosity for dear life. The path that had opened in that direction would surely close with the imminent coagulation of the Dissonance once more. As darkness came down upon her, the residual radiance of guiding thunderbolts fizzling out for good, her own begging light was all she had left.
With every slash of the bow, Octavia begged for his face and his safety. She begged it was him in the first place rather than a trick of the light, temporary as it had been. As to how long he’d been alone in here, she’d lost track of time. It felt like an eternity of her own making.
Slowly but surely, she was becoming aware of the congealing agony she’d feared, the darkened walls closing in on her again with screeching she couldn’t block out. She ran faster. She played harder. Alone, her speed served her well. If time was of the essence, if she couldn’t play with everything she had, then she could absolutely run with everything she had, instead. Whether or not she could outrun Dissonance remained to be seen. It was a feat she would have to share with another, should she pull it off.
Octavia did what she could to balance her radiance and her frantic sprinting in equal measure, as difficult as it was. Her blood boiled and burned, her brilliant beams sailing deep into the mist that again rose to threaten her skin and singe her body. Should it hurt her, it would do little to impede her desperate search. So, too, did her wide eyes dig deep into the same darkness over and over.
With a passing ray that spiraled into the billowing clouds, she could’ve sworn she saw his flannel shirt. This time, she opted to hurl his name from her lips. “Josiah!”
She got nothing in return. She repeated her motion, the same brilliance punching a uniform hole into the screaming fog as it gave way in the slightest. Octavia confirmed her sightings, a familiar canvas bag meeting her eyes once more. “Josiah, I’m here! I’m here! Josiah!” she cried at the top of her lungs.
Again, she got nothing. He was on his feet, if not stationary. She’d feared the worst in the form of the boy dead on the ground, and her eyes flooded with tears of relief. As to why he refused to run further from the clouds that gained on him, she wasn’t certain.
Octavia did everything she could to fight on his behalf, launching her scathing light with desperation at each writhing plume of smoke that came too close for comfort. She found success in their shrieking, although the way by which she was forced to do so time after time was incredibly disheartening. Part of her wanted to plead with him to run. Most of her was solely fixated on his well-being as she drew ever closer.
“Josiah, are you alright? Are you okay? I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!” Octavia wailed.
There were a multitude of gazes he could’ve given her, although some she would’ve preferred far more than others. The piercing, icy glare, she could live without. The harsh, devastating lightning, she’d do anything to avoid again. The kind warmth that wrapped her up and eased her soul, she would die for. In the end, any variant of that calming stillness she’d found in his eyes time after time would’ve been welcome in her desperation.
Initially, why Josiah would choose to raise his pitiful little blade into the darkness was beyond her. There was nothing to be done against the agony that descended upon them with weapons of this world. She knew he was aware, and at first found the gesture to be symbolic. It wasn’t high, although his grip was notably firm. She looked to him with great confusion.
She lost her peace. In its place, she found only violet, seizing the calm in his eyes she admired. For how low Octavia had plunged into Hell, there was perhaps no deeper she could go.