Josiah didn’t scream.

Josiah didn’t move.

Josiah didn’t run, nor did he emote.

Where she looked for fear, she found none. Where she looked for pain, she found glass in his gaze. Glass came with indigo, and indigo carried agony. It was one thing they had in common. On sight alone, her agony was of a different flavor entirely.

And when Octavia looked upon his shoulders instead, the wisps that oozed aloft from both in tandem froze her blood. It was the only fate for him that she feared worse than death. It was the only fate for anyone that she feared worse than death. Josiah stared her down, unblinking. Octavia couldn’t breathe.

In the dark, she knew the sickening aura plaguing his body was surely there, wrapping him up like a toxic blanket and smothering him from within. She wondered how much was inside. She wondered how long he’d been exposed. How ironic, then, that he’d been the one to suggest to her the theorized myriad of varied reactions to the vile substance. This was his. For a different reason entirely, Octavia was lightheaded.

Yet again, it was a knife that barred her path at the hands of one blighted by agony. She didn’t want to do this. She absolutely couldn't do this--not to him. There was a brief moment where the tip leveled with her eyes, one arm extended in utter silence. She knew what was coming, and Octavia struggled to control her violent shaking.

It never made it to her. He never took a single step. He never made one effort, no matter how feeble, to close their little gap. Instead, Josiah's arm curved inwards, his own fingers trembling around the hilt of the blade. His movements were slow, and Octavia followed them desperately with her eyes. She watched it rise higher and higher, his own dead eyes narrowed and his shoulders heaving with the effort of labored breaths.

The moment the sharp edges of the steel pressed deep into his neck, Octavia lost her breath in full. She outright screamed. Josiah didn’t break the skin, instead stalling as his hand shook viciously. His free palm rose to meet the same hilt, wrapping around to match his trembling fingers in tandem with an unbreakable grip. His breathing quickened ever more, his skin bending threateningly beneath the weight of the blade.

From her current position, Octavia could see the tiny beads of blood that began to pool beneath the razor-sharp edges. The tears that rolled down his cheeks were as sparse as they were clouded, wispy trails of purple sporadically painting his skin. Even now, in such an awful state, she watched with absolute horror as Josiah gritted his teeth.

His volume was low, his voice strained, the tone of his words stolen and distorted to a degree that made Octavia feel ill. Still, it was unmistakably him.

“Help…me.”

The way by which his arms shook laboriously spoke to efforts of withdrawal, futile as they were. His best attempts to lower the blade were in vain, anything but a choice of his own.

“Help…me. Please.”

Josiah closed his eyes with grace far beyond what matched the violet within, even as he trembled.

“Octavia.”

There was a time when she would’ve hesitated. It was a time long forgotten, a time not now.

Octavia managed precisely one strangled cry of his name before she felt her fingers moving. It was instinctive. Her aim, too, was just the same. He’d given her the perfect opportunity, his soft desperation providing the only angle she’d needed. The radiance that boiled beneath her fingertips fought to find its way deep into his soul, bursting forth from every string and descending upon him without hesitation.

Every beam surged and spiraled down past his lips and into the depths of his body, by which he was practically aglow from within. She’d once wondered if it hurt. It was still a small burden in the back of her mind. Octavia was amazed she could aim so clearly, given the way her eyes were swimming with tears.

Josiah didn’t resist. He didn’t struggle, nor did he pull away like so many she’d seen fight against the expulsion of such agony before. It was at least enough to still his hands, his stiff fingers relaxing and loosening around the hilt of the blade as it slipped from his skin. Only now could she fully see the bubbles of blood that crept from his wounded pores, small as they were in the open air. They were shallow, and thankfully so. It was still a terrifying sight, a call far too close, and currently only one of her many pressing concerns. Even now, his eyes were closed. Josiah met her scorching love with equal grace and patience.

Octavia had never done this before--not successfully. She didn’t plead with Stratos. She didn’t beg him for his guidance, nor his aid, nor his steady voice to lead her down a path of safe success. She didn’t have the time. She didn’t have the drive. Her last attempt at purifying Dissonance besieging a person from within had ended in disaster, a testament to inability and incompetence that had fundamentally ruined her.

Even now, even as her scalding fingers moved frantically and she searched desperately for the sensation of tightness inside of him, the irony wasn't lost on her. She knew where she was standing. She knew who it was that she was assailing with her light. There was no room for error, just as had been the case before.

This time, she was stronger. She knew better. It was hopefully enough. It had to be.

Octavia remembered what it felt like--at least, what it was supposed to, if the instructions she’d been given so long ago were anything to go by. The brilliant bridge that stretched from the scroll down into his body shimmered vibrantly under the weight of every note. She scoured for the pressure she knew to rest within, the concentration of agony that claimed Josiah's soul and cursed him with pain.

The longer she searched, the more she fought to stem her panic. There was no telling how long he’d been exposed, nor how far gone he truly was. Her only point of comparison, by experience, was an extreme outlier. She narrowed her tearful eyes, struggling to ignore the way each freed droplet of fear and regret trickled down her cheeks.

When Octavia met with resistance, it was equal parts wonderful and horrifying. She braced herself against the ground, her muscles straining with the effort of claiming it for herself. Even if she couldn’t see the violet that had tormented him from within, she could feel her tender light latching onto something semi-solid. She strained against every string, a desperate song that sent her glimmering bridge pulsating and vibrating with the efforts of maintenance.

Even now, Josiah was still and calm, surrendering peacefully to the war of light and agony inside of his soul. The knife had long since slipped from his hands, and his hands had long since fallen to his sides. She knew she was crying out, her arms burning with the weight of crushing pressure upon her muscles. It was heavy, far more resistant than the boy it cursed. Octavia fought with everything in her heart, her fingers screaming in pain as the rugged strings cut into her skin. She didn’t care. From her light came every last ounce of love in her heart.

She felt something give way. It burst, and it was a miracle.

Octavia still pitied the undeniable distress that surely came with the expulsion in full, the billowing violet that exploded from beyond his lips ejecting high into the air above. Josiah's head jerked back with such involuntary force that she feared he might’ve snapped his neck. The pressure of forces far beyond him ultimately served as the only catalyst for keeping him on his feet. Her swirling radiance followed every single ounce of blackened agony upwards and outwards from his body. Entire clouds of suffering screeched and writhed as they dispersed, encircled by and surrendering to vicious luminescence.

For Josiah, it wasn't over quickly, her reaction time be damned. Her bridge of radiance fizzled and dissipated with a quiet sizzle, the strings along the frets vulnerable to much the same sound. Josiah was cursed to expel the agony within himself for nearly half a minute collectively, crowning his pain with a round of harsh coughing and choking. He collapsed to his knees. Octavia did exactly the same.

Octavia outright dropped Stradivaria, the violin and bow clattering carelessly to the ground below. She clasped her hands against either of Josiah's cheeks, pulling him close and fighting for eye contact. She was practically screaming directly into his face, dazed and disoriented as he was.

“Josiah! Josiah!” Octavia cried again and again.

She found warm color unmarred by violet, even glassy and distant as it was. His body was heavy, and she struggled to grasp his shoulders in time. Octavia shook him violently. “Wake up! Josiah, look at me, please!”

Josiah coughed several times over, blinking slowly. His eyes moved, somewhat, and they drifted to her own.

“Oc…tavia?”

Octavia wanted to cry. She did. She threw her arms around him in full, burying her face in his shoulder. She gave up on restraining her tears, content to stain every inch of his shirt collar with regret and sorrow.

“I’m sorry!” she wailed. “I’m so, so sorry! I didn’t mean to leave you! Josiah, I’m sorry!”

She felt one hand settle delicately atop her back, weak as the gesture was. “It’s…okay. I’m…okay,” he murmured.

Octavia shook her head, her braids brushing against his violet-stained cheeks. “No you’re not! You’re not okay!”

Josiah’s head came to rest against her own, his cold skin meeting hers. “Yes…I am.”

Octavia could do little except sob. Even with the knowledge of the screeching that still blighted her ears in the background, it was unfeasible to let him leave her arms again. Agony grew closer, the tiny, repulsive light she’d managed to craft on the boy’s behalf now dissipated in full. It left her with a growing enclosure of that which she could hardly see, cursed to embrace him on the ground in the dark. It didn’t burn yet. It didn’t freeze her skin yet. It would, soon enough. Releasing him was its own Hell, especially given the way he just barely kept himself upright rather than sprawled out on the ground.

She had to lunge for Stradivaria, doing everything she could to settle the instrument onto her shoulder while bound to the chilling ground herself. Even now, she struggled to doff her tears in favor of resolve. She couldn’t let him get hurt twice. As to where it was coming from, she had little idea. She played softly, hesitantly, her gentle light a golden guide that swirled around the two of them slowly.

It wasn't even slightly a solid defense. It was enough to illuminate her immediate surroundings, upon which she saw only the false darkness she’d feared. It writhed, it screamed, and it billowed in equal measure--as she’d so sickeningly expected. This time, it was nearly all-encompassing, and she paid the price for staying eternally still. Octavia struggled to rise to her feet in the midst of her song.

Still, Josiah looked up at her calmly, eyes half-lidded and words absent. She had to try.

It took most of what Octavia had left to strengthen her soft glow, largely aching from the efforts of purifying the suffering within Josiah. She slashed the bow back and forth across the strings to the best of her ability, pouring what surging light of the sun she had left in her veins onto Stradivaria’s bridge. It was white-hot, to her relief. She could work with the consistency, for now. So, too, was it at least somewhat blinding, enough that she could circulate it around them both with a radiating heat that could challenge the stars.

Whether or not she could keep it up was a different question entirely. The Dissonance didn't advance on her, granted. Even so, she was taking a far more defensive route than an offensive one. Her fingers hurt. Her arms hurt. Most of her upper body hurt, for what it had taken to spare Josiah from pain.

He kept watching her. That, too, hurt, especially given how her light flickered.

Octavia battled to the best of her ability, even as every muscle screamed and her fingers were chafed raw against the copper. It wasn't rewarding, given the way the bubbling heat in her blood had begun to cool against her best wishes. Her pores no longer oozed the boiling radiance she hoped to birth, and her searing song couldn't keep up with the smoke that rose ever higher around her.

She gritted her teeth. She tried, and tried, and tried again. At some point, she prayed. At some point, she screamed. If she begged Stratos again, would he offer up the same blessing? Could her body withstand it for a second time?

Josiah was still watching her. What more could she do? That was its own Hell.

Her fingers were bleeding. Her radiant ribbons were fading, fizzling into thin air and melting into the darkness.

Octavia couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t think.

She heard footsteps. In truth, they weren’t footsteps so much as they were sounds of effort in general, something hitting the ground distantly again and again.

“Set me up, Vi!”

“Got it!”

Octavia couldn’t see behind her. She could hear the shrill notes she’d grown so accustomed to, regardless, from deep within the darkness that threatened her back. Her eyes widened at the sound, a crisp and beautiful noise that brought ease to her aching heart by its song alone.

She didn’t have it for long. The blast that followed knocked her off her feet, crystal spearing in every conceivable direction to such a degree that she could’ve been skewered. She was lucky she found herself on the ground once more, for how explosive the boom that followed shattering ice had been. Each newly-annihilated, razor-edged icicle that speared into the indigo fog hit its mark with incredible accuracy--although missing with such an abundance of Dissonance would’ve been practically impossible.

The screeching was nowhere near as loud as the concussive burst. She supposed she should’ve been thankful for the dichotomy that had dulled her senses, at least momentarily. Bits and pieces of stray crystal rained around her like glass, and she winced as several came too close for comfort to Josiah. Whatever tears threatened her this time were born more of joy than anything.

“Viola!” Octavia cried.

The Soulful Maestra came first, sprinting through her path in the darkness as she barreled into the Ambassador. Octavia did, genuinely, shed at least a handful of tears over the embrace, breathing in Viola’s scent and warming her heart with the girl’s proximity in such a Hell. “You’re okay!” Octavia exclaimed.

“I’m fine!” Viola assured, holding fast to the hands that trembled around Stradivaria. “Are you okay?”

Octavia strongly debated answering honestly. With the darkness settling upon them yet again, the last vestiges of her light fading and flickering into nothingness, she was almost grateful for the way it hid the lies on her face. “I-I’m alright! How did you--”

“I found him, and he found--”

“I told you I had a secret weapon, didn’t I?” Renato teased with confidence, the brilliance of his grin filling in where her light failed. At close range, she could just barely catch the silhouette of a playful salute. “Soldier of the Ambassador, at your service!”

Viola raised an eyebrow. “What does that even mean?”

It took everything Octavia had to steal back her bow from warm, comforting hands. It took even more, albeit physically, to strain and scrape any residual radiance from the bottom of her heart. What little she found in feeble notes ambled in weak orbs and ribbons along the open air, just barely enough that she could keep the two Maestros in her sights. Her fingers hurt severely, still rubbed raw and stinging fiercely with every brush against the strings. She struggled not to wince in front of them.

When Viola’s eyes drifted downwards, the Soulful girl recoiled somewhat. “Josiah?”

“I-I’m fine,” he stammered, his voice notably more stable than it had been moments before.

Light had found his eyes in full, and his palms had resisted the ground below as he carefully rose to his feet. Once more did he stagger in the process, a subtle motion that didn’t escape Octavia. His knees were still shaking, his breaths still rattling. He was definitely lying, try as he might to hide it. “Just a bit dizzy,” he insisted, his words nearly buried beneath the agony around them.

Octavia refused to call him out on it. She didn’t give Viola the chance. “Where are--”

“We don’t know,” Renato interrupted. “We haven’t seen either of ‘em yet!”

“Even if I can tell their legacies apart, I can’t pick and choose who I follow from this far away,” Viola explained with frustration. “I tried! This was genuinely a coincidence!”

“And a damn lucky one, too!” Renato interrupted. “Hope you know I was going this way with or without you!”

“Your light definitely helped,” Viola offered to the Ambassador regardless. “Fighting in the dark has been rough!”

“Do you…think you two can get us back to the main road?” Josiah tried, his voice still wavering. “We need some help! I-It’s too much to handle ourselves!”

Renato cracked his neck. “What do you think we’re here for?”

“Can you…give us a bit of a guide?” Viola asked tentatively.

Truthfully, Octavia couldn’t. Even the pitiful quantity of light she was managing to cling to at the moment was pushing it, her little glow just barely enough to get by. She didn’t dare let Viola know the extent of her pain. She was slightly honest, if nothing else. “I don’t know how much more I can take!”

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Viola paused for a moment. “Can you keep that much up?”

Octavia wasn’t sure how to answer, her hands aching with every gentle motion against Stradivaria. “Not for long!”

Viola raised Silver Brevada to her lips once more. “Stay close behind us and hold your light up for as long as you possibly can! We’ll deal with the rest! If we’re gonna go, we need to do it now before you run out!”

Octavia didn’t argue. Her bigger fear, really, came in the form of the boy she didn’t quite trust to stick as close to her anymore. Impaired as he was, fresh from conquering an internal Hell, sprinting would likely leave him far behind at some point. Even when Josiah fixed her with a soft, determined gaze, the fatigue in his eyes was clear to see. She couldn’t risk it.

“Stay close to me,” she demanded, lingering within his earshot alone. “I’ll slow down!”

Josiah shook his head weakly. “I’ll keep up! Don’t slow down for me!”

“Please!” Octavia pleaded. “Please let me do this!”

She could see the way his lips parted for a moment, an argument in wait never breathed into the air. When he fell silent, there came a relief. Josiah didn’t protest. He did, at least, move close enough for her to feel his warmth at her side. That was enough. Even if she couldn’t quite convince him to go ahead, to stay firmly in her line of sight as she focused on the Maestros before her, it was a start. It was a comfort she struggled to hold fast to.

“You got me covered?”

“Go for it!”

How they’d managed to make it this far in the dark was beyond her, their respective gifts in combination notwithstanding. The chance of successfully challenging writhing fog with almost no visibility was surely zero, if not nearly so. With her pitiful light at their backs, the feeble aura of Octavia’s weak radiance pulsing and wavering, they were still condemned to the same. It didn’t deter them one bit, and they pressed on without hesitation. Even if it wasn’t the greatest time for her to take note of their interaction, Octavia was floored by how effectively such a specific duet worked in tandem with one another. It was its own miracle.

Renato’s precious agility in the dark was a double-edged sword, a complete gamble he took with every tumble forward. He more than risked barreling clear into whatever awaited unseen before him, Octavia’s weakened brilliance only just barely capturing the tails of rising violet. Even so, when Mistral Asunder met with the glaciers born of Silver Brevada, the boy himself was a weapon upon the darkness.

Viola’s fingers were just as quick as Renato’s movements, adjusting to the speed of his forward momentum with grace and power alike. They weren’t quite comparable to the incredibly impenetrable walls born of Briar’s icy songs. Still, the crystalline barriers she brought forth immediately before the Strong Maestro were more than enough. It was a shame her light couldn't send them shimmering further, although Octavia was grateful for the idea that it may have made Renato’s job easier.

Viola’s ice wasn't uniform, and the degree to which the quirk was intentional only dawned on Octavia long after its destruction. The jagged, frozen barricade was no match for a Harmonial Instrument that had once conquered even fortified steel with ease. With a cry of effort, Renato brought the strength of sound careening into Viola’s ice, the resulting boom ringing in Octavia’s ears remorselessly.

Viola, for all of the effort she’d poured into crafting such sturdy frost, found success in keeping the remnants of it that way. What could’ve devolved into a display of splintering surrender instead transformed every little fragment into a weapon all its own. They were numerous, overpowering, and unfathomably fast, dozens of icy bullets piercing into the darkness. The velocity the sonic burst had pumped into each razor-edged shard sent them sailing onwards infinitely, surely plummeting to earth only somewhere Octavia couldn’t see.

As to those that lingered just a bit too close, spared from vicious propulsion by the initial blast, Renato refused to spare them. With quick, unforgiving flicks of his wrists, the stray crystals, too, became just as deadly. To stand on the other side of such an assault would’ve likely run Octavia through. It did just that to whatever screaming haze barred his path in the shadows.

Octavia could see the ground. She could see forward, undeterred by cloudy agony. Even if it wouldn’t last forever, it was a chance she was desperate to seize. Despite her inability to still her pitiful song, even for a moment, she was sure to flicker her anxious gaze to Josiah almost constantly. To his credit, he really did keep up, his wobbling sprint as resolute as it was weak in its own right. Should her light finally fail, she knew exactly where her hands would go next--voluntary or not.

“Higher!”

“Do it!”

Renato went up. He came down hard, the incredible propulsion that Mistral Asunder so frequently blessed him with in the heat of battle a gift once more. Viola’s barrier, horizontal and aloft as it was, served as more of a shield than anything. It hardly mattered, given the way he ruptured it with another forceful boom. Viola’s lethal, shattered crystals rained down upon the Dissonance like arrows, a hail of frost that bit into the fog from on high. Octavia’s one regret was the incompatibility of the ruthless strength of sound with the beautiful melodies of other legacies. It wasn’t exactly her top priority.

“I can…see it, I think,” Josiah panted, his own stamina visibly failing.

He was slower. Octavia, too, slowed. “The main road?”

“Yeah!”

“Again!”

“Right!”

It was a struggle to run in the wake of every blast, as effective and desperately needed as they were. The ground practically shook beneath her feet on each impact, and she stumbled more than once. Reorienting herself was hellish to her screaming fingertips, blood oozing in earnest onto the warm copper. It was a miserable feeling, and she now couldn’t help but stifle whimpers of pain with every note. Octavia was aware that the one person who could help was at her side. Even so, even if she had the time to recover physically, her compromised stamina was a threat all its own. Running was getting difficult, and that wasn’t an option.

“That’s it!”

“You’re sure?”

“I’m positive! Go right!”

“Can you make it thicker?”

“I can try!”

There was a reprieve in the familiar, smoother patterns that rose to greet the soles of Octavia’s boots at last. If she squinted, she could see as Josiah saw, structures illuminated somewhat by their onward assault. She gritted her teeth at the flecks of glassy crystal that stung her legs, residual and rapid in their kickback. Her lungs, too, were beginning to fail her. She was still unsure exactly how much of her physical distress was secondary to fighting and how much was secondary to saving Josiah’s life. It was an exhaustion unlike any she’d ever felt, steadily growing like a snowball with every racing footstep.

“It shouldn’t be…much longer!” Josiah shouted breathlessly. “I recognize…some of these buildings!”

Octavia, too, was borderline breathless. “Do you think…Celestina made it?”

“On your right!”

“I see it!”

Octavia nearly stumbled once more, the quaking beneath her feet almost unbearable to tolerate. Again was she uncomfortably blighted by stray ice that peppered her bare skin. She nearly dropped Stradivaria’s bow in the process of hunting for her balance and breath.

“I would…think so! She had…two friggin’ Apexes with her!”

“Again!”

“I know!”

That time, she nearly dropped the entire violin. She gritted her teeth.

“I…saw her before! She…only had Mint and Mina! They didn’t…know where Francisco and River…ended up!” Octavia panted.

Josiah’s exceedingly labored breaths were only growing more so by the minute. “We…have to trust that…they can get her there! This is the…Ensemble that we’re…talking about!”

“You hangin’ in there?”

“I’m fine! Pay attention in front!”

“Let me have it!”

It was Josiah who nearly fell. Catching him was a reflex, her momentary lapse in light be damned. Octavia grabbed his sleeve, yanking him forward just sharply enough to keep him on his feet. Resuming her song after the blessing that was rest was nightmarish, every muscle aching anew and her skin pleading for mercy. It was a kind of burning that made her cry out in pain, buried beneath each bursting boom as it was.

“That’s it!”

Josiah’s words didn’t settle onto her, initially. It took him a second try to get her attention, pained as she was. “Octavia, there!”

In the depths of the deepest darkness, it was impossible to bear witness to the visage of the church in full. It would’ve taken luminescence far beyond what she was capable of emitting at the moment to claim its humble splendor. She knew what was supposed to rest beyond. Where the road terminated and the stairs distantly began, she would surely find her precious path to Seraphim’s Call. It was a beautiful sight alone.

She couldn’t play harder. Even so, she could run faster. Seemingly emboldened, so, too, could Josiah. Every ear-shattering boom of Mistral Asunder was challenged by the thunderous beating of her heart.

“I see it!” Octavia cried.

“Is that it?” she heard Viola ask above the noise, prying the flute from her lips.

“Yeah!” Josiah answered. “I know where Seraphim’s Call is! If we can get Octavia in there, we’d just need to wait for Celestina!”

“I don’t know how long we can wait!” Viola called.

Josiah shook his head. “There’s nothing we can do without her! We don’t have a choice!”

Octavia could hear Renato groan dramatically. “See, that’s what we get for being early!”

In truth, Octavia was somewhat convinced the Ensemble would’ve made it to the church first, their pitch-black obstacles aside. There was something horrifying about being expected to stand still and battle the Dissonance from the absolute heart of the city, and her own heart only raced faster with every pounding step towards the doors. At the very least, this had been Josiah’s home for years, absolutely bitter as the return was. If anyone could fumble their way to Seraphim’s Call in utter darkness, it was him. Staving off the Dissonance in a single room was a feasible feat.

At no point had she stopped to consider, nor did she want to, exactly how many bad memories one little church could harbor. She found out the hard way.

They never made it within twenty feet of the Velpyre Church itself. The very last of the light she had was enough to prove a point she didn’t want to make. Wrathful smog climbed high along every exterior inch of the sacred building, billowing outwards in equal measure. The entire place, at least visually, spoke to the illusion of utter infestation.

Whether it was solely a blight upon its outside perimeter remained to be seen, although Octavia highly doubted it. The sickening agony of an entire city gone too soon made sense, distributed and intense as it was. For those who’d been completely and totally forsaken by their prized acolyte, then, their suffering was perhaps a thousand times more severe. It showed. It was deserved, horrific as the sight was.

It didn’t make Octavia’s entry any easier. Her body gave out at last at what was perhaps the worst possible moment, every effort to steal yet more sparse radiance from Stradivaria utterly fruitless. It was a miracle she was still on her feet at all, Josiah acting as her anchor once she’d lost her balance. She gasped for oxygen she couldn’t find, her defenseless companion no better off. It left them staring down that which was invisible, well aware of its abundance and bloodlust.

From what she had observed with the last vestiges of her light, the Dissonance was somehow thicker. It was louder. It was aggressive, a testament to the regrets of those burned alive by their beloved flame. Octavia knew what Selena’s vengeful Dissonance had looked like, and it was far from what she stood before now. With either portion of Stradivaria grasped loosely in her shaking hands, there was little to do but tremble before the unseen.

“Uh, you saw that, too, right?” she heard Renato call ahead of her.

Viola was nearly speechless. “I…”

“How the hell are we gonna deal with that?”

“I don’t know! It’s…a lot!”

“Yeah, you think?” he snapped.

Even if she couldn’t see Viola, Octavia swore she could feel the Maestra’s eyes on her. “Are you…out?”

It tore her heart apart to say yes. “I’m sorry! I can try! I…”

Moving her fingers was torture. Everything hurt fiercely, and the simple motion of trying to raise Stradivaria to her shoulder sent shooting pains down her arm. She cried out involuntarily, her best efforts to hold back her suffering completely in vain.

“We’ll…figure this out!” Viola offered, her voice wavering. “Take it easy!”

Octavia shook her head, as invisible as she knew the motion to be. “I don’t want to put that on you!”

“We want to! Let us do this!” Viola argued.

“Should we, like, back off, or something?” Renato called.

At her side, Octavia could at least see Josiah narrow his eyes. “We don’t have anywhere to go! It’s behind us, it's around us, it’s on every damn side! I don’t think we’d be fast enough to get away, either!”

It was getting louder. She feared it was advancing, even if she couldn’t tell for certain. As to how much, that, too, was a terrifying mystery.

“Vi, can you go get someone?” she heard.

“What?”

“Your little magnet thing! Do the same thing you did for me and--”

“I can’t leave you here!”

“We don’t have a choice!” Renato shouted. “Just be quick about it!”

“There has to be a better option!” Viola pleaded.

“Look, it’s either that, or we try to take this stuff on ourselves! I don’t know about you, but I’m not a big fan of trying to hit stuff I can’t see!”

His words burned, even unintentionally. She knew she should’ve been able to remedy that situation. Octavia could still barely breathe.

“Then we…have to at least try!” Viola cried.

Octavia’s heart was cracking into pieces, her stomach twisting into knots. “Don’t!”

Viola either didn’t hear or didn’t care. “Just take your best guess where it is! We’ll definitely hit something!”

“Man, this is gonna suck!” Renato groaned loudly.

Octavia wanted to scream. She wanted to plead for them to run. She wondered what she was doing here. Even Josiah at her side, clenching his fists and staring into the pitch-blackness much the same as herself, wasn't immune to eyes filled with horror and apprehension. For all of the determination she’d found at the worst of times down here, Octavia found none of it in his gaze now. It was a torture all its own. If she reached for him now, she had nothing left to offer. She had nothing left to offer regardless.

She struggled, fought, begged, pleaded with sheer willpower alone to raise Stradivaria even an inch. Her best efforts, each and every time, brought only severe pain and scathing regret. She wasn’t the slightest bit sorry for saving Josiah. She was, with all of her heart, sorry for her inability to bounce back. Octavia could hear it behind her, even if she couldn’t feel it just yet. There was little to be done besides stepping blindly forward, and Josiah did the same. It happened twice. Thrice.

It was a death sentence that, even now, she still couldn’t fathom falling victim to. She couldn’t imagine it happening to him again. At the height of what minimal resolve she had left, Octavia could at least do the Maestros before her the courtesy of keeping her opened eyes on the darkness. To shut them was to shirk their sacrifice, however it would end. She wouldn’t look away.

“Where do you want it?”

“Forward!”

“How much?”

“All of it!”

Her eyes, dilated as they were, filled with raging reds so bright that her pupils pleaded for mercy. It was a fast movement, outright streaming past her with a burning wake in tow. She was forced to raise one hand desperately over her face, for how truly close the scathing embers had come to her body. They weren’t meant for her. It was a fact she could deduce immediately, although the searing path carved through the darkness was anything but uniform.

The flames that left only blasts of blazing breezes behind outdid the weak radiance she could’ve provided ten times over, spiraling unnaturally as it encircled every Maestro in turn. The surging inferno far outpaced that of the violet which caved beneath it, blighted by incredible heat that singed each writhing wisp. It was as offensive as it was defensive, skillfully maneuvered in a way that spoke to perfect control. Not a single Maestro moved an inch, lest they end up viciously burned.

Even long after a gap had been forcibly cut between each Maestro and the Dissonance that advanced so rapidly, the intense embers that lingered in the open air still flickered like stars. Suspended as they were, drifting upon something yet unseen, it was enough to grant Octavia some semblance of desperately-needed sight. More importantly, they sounded absolutely beautiful together. Their faces, safe and sound, were enough to nearly bring her to tears alone.

“Madrigal!” she cried, her voice cracking. “Harper!”

With her fingers still plucking away at Lyra’s Repose, it was all Madrigal could do to offer a wink and a beaming smile. “Found you!” she exclaimed happily.

Harper was far less elated, his eyes instantly pooling with worry. “Are you guys okay?”

Again, Octavia was tempted to admit the truth. In the dark, to be fair, he would’ve likely had trouble finding it himself. “I-I’m…we’re…I’m just glad you’re safe, both of you!”

That, at least, was true. The relief that flooded Viola and Renato’s faces--particularly the latter--echoed her sentiment perfectly. “You were starting to get me worried there for a minute, Maddie!” the Strong Maestro called. “What took you so long?”

“I can think of a few things,” Harper half-joked on the Maestra’s behalf.

“What is that?” Madrigal asked, her voice more so painted with surprise than fear.

Blessed with the aid of Harper’s residual embers, the glimpse of abundant Dissonance before the church offered a far worse image versus what Octavia had been picturing. It swirled and surged in billowing, screeching clouds that rose much higher than the agony she’d seen drifting throughout Velpyre thus far. Even if the Dissonance didn’t quite span the full height of the church, it was practically a barrier in its own right, a tide upon the doors and stairs that more than barred her path. She shuddered just observing the scene, preemptively fearing the tidal wave that threatened to crash down onto them at any moment. Knowing there was, logically, so little she personally could do to punch through the darkness in any capacity twisted her soul inside-out.

“Okay, so, apparently, we have to get through that,” Renato explained, his voice touched by annoyance.

Harper winced. “Are you serious?”

“Seraphim’s Call is inside,” Viola reminded. “Octavia has to be able to get in there!”

“This is gonna suck,” Harper muttered.

Renato rolled his eyes. “Trust me, I feel you!”

“How long can you keep up your fire?” Viola asked, already raising Silver Brevada back into position.

Harper’s eyes flickered to Madrigal. She smiled. “We think we found a solution for that!” he said.

“I can…help!” Octavia cried.

It was a desperate and empty offer, useless in the face of her suffering and exhaustion. The way by which she faltered under every gaze she drew to herself was mortifying, her arms giving out the moment she tried to raise the violin to her shoulder. Again were her movements crowned by shooting pains, and she couldn’t help but cry out against her best wishes. She struggled to steady her breath, her muscles throbbing intensely from the attempt alone.

“Catch your breath!”

Viola’s voice, gentle as her words were despite her volume, was surprising. “What?” Octavia panted.

Beneath the soft glow of every floating ember, her illuminated smile was lovely. “Bet you never thought I’d be saying that to you, huh?”

“We can handle it! Save your strength, okay? There’s still more you need to do in there!” Harper added, Royal Orleans brushing against his lips once again.

Even if Madrigal still couldn’t find the leeway for any of her many, many enthusiastic gestures, her vibrant words and beaming smile were just as effective. “We won’t let you down, Ambassador!”

“Keep your eyes on us,” Renato offered with a grin, “and we’ll give you one hell of a show!”

It was a reflex, the way she opened her mouth to object. Already, her pleas for them to stand down, to spare themselves from agony incarnate, were bubbling up in her throat. Her words were never freed, stemmed only by warm fingers settling softly atop her shoulder. She nearly jumped, startled by his sudden touch--even welcome as it was. He couldn’t take her hand, and she couldn’t take his, for how desperately she still clung to either portion of the violin. Still, he rested his free hand atop her own, wrapping his fingers around the bow in conjunction with hers.

Josiah couldn’t do battle--not with his legacy, surrendered for a greater cause, nor with the feeble self-defense by which he would challenge darkness itself. He could, instead, battle fear on her behalf, his words forged into gentle weapons and his kind gaze serving as her shield. He had his own way of fighting, whether for himself or otherwise. Perhaps more than physical protection, it was what she needed most.

“Remember why we’re here,” he spoke quietly, his voice so close to her. “You already know what I’m gonna say. If you don’t trust their strength, then trust the Muses that stand beside them. If you don’t trust the Muses that stand beside them, then…trust yourself for choosing people who love you this much.”

Octavia's eyes widened. She wondered if that included him. It was a concept that warmed her heart in the dark, racing as it was. The adrenaline that flooded her veins wasn't for herself alone, nor was the hope she fought for her life to cobble together. If she could honor a sacrifice in the darkness with her gaze, she would certainly offer up everything she had for a victory.

She did as she was told. She didn’t dare take her eyes off of them.