“I have borne witness to your pain, and my light guides your passage from the depths of my heart.”

If that was her voice, Octavia didn’t recognize it. She didn’t remember saying a word. It had to be someone else. Whatever name they were shouting, muffled as it was, sounded vaguely familiar. She wondered if it belonged to her. When the world went black, it was quiet this time.

She was drifting, vaguely, in and out of what she first assumed to be the infinite darkness that marked a toll. Down and up she went, again and again, drowning in a sea that merged the waking world with one so adjacent to death. With her eyes closed, she was warm again. Something was wrapped around her. Something was carrying her. Octavia didn’t mind. She only cared when she fell into nothingness once more, involuntary as the voyage was.

Down, she was cold. Up, she was warm. It was a process that repeated time after time for what she was convinced was an eternity, and she wondered if she'd been granted the true death she’d wished for at last. She preferred the warm side. It took far too much effort to cling to it, and she lost out to the cold more often than she would’ve liked.

There came a point when Octavia could hear, and she heard nothing. There came a point where she could move, and her body ached so fiercely that she didn’t dare. The idea of opening her eyes was miserable, and she opted to stay in the dark. No light fought to sneak its way past her closed lids. She was eternally grateful for that small peace.

Something rested heavily upon her, enveloping her on every side. It was soft and warm, and for that, she was also grateful. It was only the painful, collective throbbing of her muscles that kept her from surrendering to the cold side yet again. When she fought to move even an inch, she found only hurt, and she could feel herself wince.

“Hey.”

If it had been anything above a whisper, it surely would’ve hurt her ears. Octavia thanked whoever would hear her prayers that the unseen voice greeting her was exactly as quiet as she needed it to be.

“Did I wake you up?”

She still didn’t want to open her eyes. The idea of light flooding her pupils was agonizing just to think about. She couldn’t move her head, anyway, heavy as it was. She wanted to answer. She’d forgotten how to speak, the process of forming words absolutely impossible.

“You can go back to sleep, if you want.”

It was a nice thought. Octavia strongly contemplated the offer. It was taking substantially longer than she would’ve liked to put a name and face to the voice that reassured her. Against every part of her that screamed and pleaded otherwise, she fought with all she had to open her eyes. It wasn’t as bright as she thought it’d be. Really, it wasn’t bright at all. For how blurred the world was, she supposed that complicated matters, somewhat.

No amount of blinking, even slowly, was pushing the fog from her eyes. She received the dim atmosphere with gratitude, the weak glow of candlelight far preferable to that of the sun she dreaded. Given the way her head, too, was throbbing, any other environment might’ve been torture to endure. Octavia shifted slightly once more, only achieving the same united pain that echoed across her entire body. Everything hurt. This time, she whimpered lightly.

“Are you in pain?”

Nodding, even weakly, took an absurd amount of effort. The way her unkempt braids unraveled yet more with every brush against the pillow was distressing, insignificant as it was. She lamented that she couldn’t move to fix them.

“Can I…get you to take something for it? Do you want something?”

The idea of doing anything more than simply nodding or shaking her head was much more than she was capable of at the moment. Octavia opted for the latter action, the haze that blighted her eyes parting enough to grace her with tranquility.

“Could I at least get you to drink something?”

Again, she shook her head. He eyed her with concern.

“You’re going to end up dehydrated, provided you aren’t already. Please?”

It probably would’ve made it easier to speak. Where she found the drive to do so was a mystery, even to herself. “Jo…siah,” she whispered hoarsely.

He rested his elbows on the bed, leaning closer to her. “If you drink something, I’ll leave you alone. I promise.”

Octavia’s eyes wandered, his pleas irrelevant. Wherever she was, it was almost nostalgic. She couldn’t place why. Still, the feeling prodded at the back of her mind again and again to the point of discomfort. The window curtains felt strangely familiar, somehow. “Where…am I?” she finally asked, strained and dry as her tiny voice was.

Josiah rested his head on the covers, too. “My room.”

That made enough sense. She wasn’t particularly sure if she liked the confirmation that she was still in Velpyre. To be fair, she wasn’t certain exactly what she’d been expecting otherwise. It was much quieter than anywhere else in the city, if the last several hours had been anything to go by.

“You…really should drink something. I’m honestly kind of worried,” he insisted softly.

“Why?” she murmured. “I’m…I don’t…need anything.”

Octavia strongly entertained asserting that she was alright altogether. That was a complete and utter lie. At least physically, he of all people would surely figure that out.

“You’ve been asleep for a full day,” Josiah admitted. “You haven’t had anything to eat or drink that whole time. You’re probably dehydrated, like I said. It’s not gonna make you feel any better. It’d be…nice if you would--”

“A day?” Octavia asked quickly, far faster than she should’ve. She nearly choked--although on what, she wasn’t sure. It took her a moment to catch her breath again, and his hands helplessly aloft in worry towards her still offered little aid.

Josiah nodded, at least. “Yeah. You’ve been…out for awhile.”

The thought alone was alarming. The idea of spending a full day unconscious in Velpyre specifically was alarming, too. “What…happened? With everything?” she pleaded faintly.

He sighed, tapping his fingertips against the blankets. “You guided Seraphe. If nothing else, be proud of that. We did what we came here for. I’m…really proud of you. Everyone is.”

Octavia wondered if he knew she couldn’t remember. She had half a mind not to tell him, and went with that option instead. The comfort she thought she’d find in the knowledge of her success was utterly absent, with only emptiness in its place. “Is…everyone okay?”

Josiah hesitated. When he briefly averted his eyes, her heart sank. “Nobody died. We can…count our blessings there. Everyone’s alive. They’ll be fine.”

She didn’t like his tone. “Did anyone get hurt?” Octavia pressed urgently.

Again, he hesitated. “There were a handful of people who got hurt. Again, they’ll all be fine. It was taken care of.”

“Hurt how?”

“In different ways. I tried to help where I could, if it was that kind of hurt.”

Octavia watched his eyes flicker to the covers, relatively adjacent to her sides. She flexed her fingers experimentally beneath their warmth. For as much as it burned and ached to do so, she could feel something soft and somewhat fluffy pressing firmly against her skin. It was with incredible effort that she wriggled one hand free of the blankets’ comfortable embrace.

Her eyes roamed over each and every victim of Stradivaria’s desperate assistance, tightly bound and well-secured in ample gauze that didn’t quite hurt. It felt strange to move. The tiny red splotches that speckled several of the bandages were few and far between. He’d cleaned her up well. Versus what River’s immediate solution would’ve been, Octavia far preferred Josiah’s skills.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

Josiah nodded. “If they hurt or they start bleeding again, please tell me.”

“The…rest of the people who got hurt,” Octavia continued relentlessly. “Are they…”

“I already know part of what you’re gonna ask. No, Viola and all of them are fine. They’re still down here. They were waiting for you to wake up.”

Octavia’s heart hurt more than her body. “I didn’t mean to inconvenience them,” she whispered.

“You didn’t,” he reassured. “I promise you didn’t.”

She bit back apologies. She was sure they’d return later.

Josiah sighed quietly once more. “As to the…other people who got hurt, most of them weren’t that bad. Dissonance-related, like they said, so there wasn’t much I could do personally. There were a few who were a bit worse off than others, but still manageable. They’re a little shaken.”

He paused. Octavia wasn’t satisfied. “Did…anyone get--”

“There were two people,” he interrupted, “who were hurt very, very badly.”

Octavia’s eyes widened. “Who?”

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

Josiah watched her reactions with care. “I want to preface this by reminding you that no one died and everyone is alive. It just might take some people longer to recover than others,” he said softly.

Octavia nodded. “I know that, but who got hurt?”

“Remember that…thing River said about the ‘point of no return’ with Dissonance? Both of these people got overwhelmed and ended up right on that border. They didn’t pass it. That’s what matters.”

“Josiah,” she asked more sharply, “who got hurt?”

He was silent for so long that she wanted to reach out and shake his shoulders. He wouldn’t look at her. “One was a Willful Maestra I’ve never met. She got separated and ended up by herself. She had to deal with too much Dissonance at once and got caught up in it. By the time someone found her, she was in awful shape. It’s a miracle she’s alive. She’ll probably need a few days to recover.”

Octavia bit her lip as he finally met her anxious gaze. Even then, it still took far longer than she would’ve liked for him to open his mouth.

“The other one was Mina,” Josiah murmured.

Octavia sat straight up in the bed so quickly that she cried out in pain, her entire body cursing her for the sudden movement. It didn’t stop her from panicking, and it didn’t stop tears from immediately springing to her eyes. “Mina?” she repeated, her voice cracking instantly.

Josiah’s hands were on her shoulders immediately relative to her hurried adjustment. “Again, both of them are alive! They’ll be fine in a few days! From what I was told, Mina ended up in a similar situation. If it’s even possible, she might’ve been closer to that threshold than the other Maestra was. She--”

“How are they both even alive?” Octavia wept.

Josiah’s face was strained to a degree that broke her heart. “You know how.”

Her stomach twisted into knots. “The…Spirited?”

He nodded slowly, just as strained. “Yeah. They didn’t get to...pick and choose with those two. For the people with lesser injuries, it could wait. They could regroup and strategize so they could distribute their burden properly. For Mina and that other Maestra, it was…whoever they came across first. They didn’t have a choice.”

Octavia knew her face was most definitely not reassuring him, for how her tears were painting the covers of his bed. She’d have to apologize later. She appreciated the way he didn’t stop on account of her sorrow, although she could only clutch the blankets ever tighter with every word. She hoped it wouldn’t compromise her bandages.

“I don’t know who the Maestro that dealt with the Willful Maestra was, but…the person who found Mina first was River.”

Octavia couldn’t breathe. “How much?”

He squeezed his eyes shut, breathing deeply on her behalf.

“Josiah, how much?” she practically screamed.

Josiah didn’t dare look at her, let alone open his eyes in full. “Ten years.”

Following the four seconds it took his words to sink in, Octavia was outright sobbing her heart out. She could barely think straight, her head spinning. It didn’t matter that they were both alive. This, in its own way, was a casualty. She grieved for him regardless, gasping for air. She could feel the way Josiah’s grip on her shoulders tightened in the slightest.

“Octavia, please remember that this is what he chose to do. This is what he wanted. This is what all of them wanted.”

“I don’t care!” she wailed. “I don’t care!”

“He’s still alive. You can still talk to him. Do you want to talk to him?”

Octavia shook her head desperately, her frazzled braids whipping against her tear-stained cheeks. “He’s so stupid! Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid! Why would he do that?”

“Because Mina would’ve died if he didn’t! That was the alternative!”

“Why did it have to be him?” she sobbed.

“Octavia--”

“This is my fault, isn’t it?”

“Don’t do that. Not again. Please.”

“But it’s true!” Octavia cried.

Josiah cupped either side of her face gently. It was almost startling. “None of this was your fault. Every single person that came down here knew exactly what they were getting into. They were given the opportunity to back out over and over, and they still chose to fight. They fought for you, and they fought for Seraphe, and damn it, Octavia, we succeeded. There’s nothing left. Not a bit of it.”

She sniffled, fighting the hiccups that wracked her body. “What do you mean?”

“We got all of it. There’s no Dissonance left. The whole city is…there’s nothing.”

It was tough to wipe her eyes with all of the bandages. Octavia tried anyway. “How?”

Josiah paused. “We’re pretty sure it was Celestina.”

When she blinked, stray tears in waiting plopped down onto the covers. “I don’t…understand.”

“Seraphim’s Call is an…extremely powerful Harmonial Instrument, if it’s used correctly. There’s a reason they started worshiping the damn thing. It’s not like it wiped everything out in one shot, but we think that Celestina playing was enough to get pretty close. From there, we were able to get the rest of it. It’s not like I ever wanted this place back again, but…we have it. It’s here. It’s peaceful.”

Even bandaged along every joint, Octavia still settled her fingers over his. “Is everyone still here?”

Josiah shook his head. “Most of them went back to Velrose already. The rest are leaving pretty soon. Like I said, our circle was just…waiting for you to wake up first.”

Her eyes watered again. He withdrew his hands, and she lamented their absence immediately. “We don’t have to stay,” Josiah continued. “If you want to rest more, we can. If not, we can go back up. I…I’m at least grateful I got to get some of my old stuff back. I don’t have to buy warmer clothes now, I guess. If--”

“I saw Sonata,” Octavia whispered, her voice threatening to crack once more.

Josiah was silent for a moment. “You don’t have to talk about whatever you saw in there. If you want to talk about it, you know I’ll listen.”

“Do we have to do Valkyrie?”

“We still do,” he reminded softly. “We can take our time.”

Her heart hurt. Everything hurt. She didn’t want to think about it, and that was nothing new. Thousands of deaths had followed her up, in a way. Her soul was yet another casualty outside of the dark. Her breaths were far more shallow than she would’ve liked.

“I’m…sorry. You shouldn’t be blaming yourself. This was my fault. If you’re gonna blame anyone, blame me.”

Octavia raised her tired eyes to him. He stole his away, casting them to the floor. “What?”

He never once looked at her. “I could’ve stopped this. I didn’t. I was selfish, and I got people hurt. It was a guess. I couldn’t…prove that’s where it would--”

“What are you talking about?” Octavia asked.

Josiah’s voice was as quiet as it was pained. “Ethel.”

She could only stare. “What about him?”

Josiah sighed. “I think this was the…place closest to my heart, for lack of better words. It’s ironic. I hate most of it. I wanted it to drown in all the pain it deserved. It’s what she would’ve wanted. It felt…wrong to take that from her.”

What was left of Octavia’s heart sank. “Josiah--”

“I don’t know if I could’ve gotten rid of all of it,” he said softly, “but I think it would’ve helped. The church, at the very least. If I could take it back, I would. Please, don’t…blame yourself.”

Octavia had no tears left. Instead, she felt the way her soul burned. “Then you can’t blame yourself, either.”

Josiah didn’t nod. He didn’t affirm her words in any capacity. That burned just as much.

Octavia had run out of sorrow to spare. All that was left was numbness. “I want to go back up. I don’t want to be down here anymore. I’m sorry. I know this is your home, but I--”

He shook his head, and he finally found a smile--false or not. “It’s okay. I don’t want to be down here anymore, either. Let’s…go get you something to eat, okay? We’ll go slow. If it hurts too much to walk, tell me. Someone can carry you.”

“Where’s Stradivaria?”

Josiah tilted his head towards the table behind him. “He’s here. It’s okay.”

The sight of Stradivaria’s case, at least, took something off of her shoulders. “I…okay,” Octavia breathed.

“There’s…one detour I want to make in here before we go. You don’t have to come if you don’t want to, but I don’t want to leave without doing it. I can drop you off with the others and they can take you up.”

Octavia shook her head weakly. “I want to go with you. Please don’t leave me.”

He averted his eyes. “It might make you upset.”

“I’ll be okay. I still want to go with you.”

Josiah didn’t push her, even after his smile had long since fallen. “If you’re sure. Tell me if you change your mind.”

Actually getting out of the bed was agonizing. For as much as he helped her in the process, every ache and pain she’d managed to collect over time had her strongly reconsidering his offer of medical assistance. Had she not been in the Cursed City, Octavia would’ve thought about climbing right back into the warmth and safety of Josiah’s bed and spending the rest of her life there. It wasn’t as though she was particularly fond of the idea of going back to sleep ever again, knowing what was surely awaiting her there forever. That left her on her feet and in his hands, miserable as the sensation of movement was.

His detour wasn’t particularly far. It didn’t even land her outside of the church. Granted, Octavia wouldn’t have known where to find the exit in the first place, given how disoriented she felt at the moment. In the absence of screeching and playing, the dead silence of the holy building was as terrifying as it was calming. Had he not held her hand gently and loosely in his own, she likely would’ve interpreted it solely as the former. Even now, clad in bandages as she was, Josiah still reached for her first. Octavia still let him lead.

She’d never seen the room he brought her to, only a short walk from his own. What short corridors and small turns it had taken to get there, he knew by heart, twisting and turning instinctively. It largely reflected his own, humble and dim in the absence of any true light. Whatever gentle candlelight had once provided any semblance of a glow had long flickered and died, instead leaving the little candlestick to gather dust uselessly on the table. It was pitiful, in a way. Otherwise, it was tidy--a bed well-made, belongings in their places, shelves organized with books and trinkets.

Octavia liked the drawings. She liked all of the drawings, plastered and peppered upon every wall in turn. She recognized the pencil strokes and the shading. She recognized the subjects, somewhat. Some were less elegant than others, and some were downright sloppy in a way that seemed almost foreign. One of the pillows had what appeared to be a bloodstain in the corner, long since dried and crusted over.

“I hate that she kept the crappy ones.”

Josiah’s voice didn’t echo, muted by the gentle enclosure of four decorated walls. Where candlelight was absent, the smallest of smiles that touched his lips sufficed as a replacement glow.

“I kept telling her to get rid of them. She kept making up some garbage about it being the ‘evolution of the artist’ or whatever. Some of these aren’t even mine, don’t get the wrong idea. She tried to do the same thing. She hated hers more than I hated mine. I told her that if I wasn’t allowed to get rid of my old ones, then she wasn’t allowed to get rid of hers, either. She used to call it the ‘wall of shame’. It was so stupid.”

Octavia’s eyes widened. “Is this…”

His eyes softened, glistening as they were. “Selena’s room. I…haven’t been here in awhile. It’s exactly the same as I remember it.”

Octavia battled the lump that rose threateningly in her throat. “I…I’m sorry.”

Josiah shook his head. “There’s nothing to be sorry about. I want to be here. I want to remember her.”

It was just as difficult to battle the stream of apologies that again yearned to escape her lips. She never made it there.

“I’ll take you back to everyone. I promise I’ll take you back up soon. Could I have just…two minutes here? Just to…be here again?”

Octavia nodded slowly. “You don’t have to ask. We can stay as long as you want. Don’t worry about me.”

The melancholy in his smile hurt. There were no tears. She could hear the pain in his voice regardless. “Thank you.”

Josiah didn’t step any further than the entrance. He didn’t explore, he didn’t rummage, and he didn’t lay a single finger on a single memento. He didn’t attempt to enter the bubble of memories that rested beyond the threshold, content only to drink in the flame’s one sanctuary with gentle eyes. Selena’s room remained exactly as it had been the day she was lost, undisturbed by both time and Josiah’s own hands. The same hands, one alone, were offered only to Octavia even now. He was delicate.

He squeezed. She squeezed back.