One look at her face upon climbing the steps into Velrose was enough to deter every question that she could’ve been asked. It didn’t matter from who, and it didn’t matter how gentle. Octavia wasn’t even sure exactly what they were seeing, nor did she particularly care. Even now, she couldn’t help but disconnect from her own body, an involuntary decision that left her floating in clouds she couldn’t come down from.

If someone spoke to her, she couldn’t hear it. If someone touched her, she could hardly feel it. Josiah was an exception. She couldn’t pinpoint a reason. Octavia thought about sleeping again. She was afraid to, and she didn’t dare let her mind wander to why. There were moments when her exhausted eyes would drift down to her hands, bandaged as they were, and still expect to find blood not her own.

Josiah had offered respite. She couldn’t decide whether or not to take it, halfway riding her high of utter numbness--although he’d at least insisted on fresh air. Octavia was still somewhat torn between getting out of Velrose as quickly as possible and picking up whatever pieces of her heart hadn’t disintegrated. It would take as many as she could get to claw her way to Valkyrie’s Call, let alone find the strength to perform the Witnessing. The amount of times she’d gone through Hell in the past several hours was so astronomical that she was left counting each and every sin she'd ever committed.

As to what could warrant such punishment, Octavia could only land on a handful of concepts. One of them was here, and it was being shoved in her face again and again. She deserved it. She was waiting on the “silver lining” Viola had suggested she’d find in all of this. She was still holding out for the way the suffering would “make things easier”, as Renato had implied. They were insulting sentiments in her swirling pool of muddied thoughts.

You have done phenomenally.

She wanted him to shut up.

I am…so immensely proud of you.

She needed him to shut up.

Octavia, I…you have done what few others would have done for our kind. Know that you are--

“Please stop talking,” Octavia begged aloud, her volume just a bit too high. “Stop. Not right now. Please.”

Josiah side-eyed her with concern. “What?”

“I…nothing,” she murmured. “Not you.”

His eyes widened slightly in realization. “Got it.”

And Stratos, in turn, obliged at last. I will grant you your peace. Should you need me, know that I am here.

It wasn’t his fault. She was aware that she should’ve at least offered thanks or a simple apology, and yet she couldn’t find the drive for either one. Ultimately, the butterfly effect had led to her own hands. He wasn't at fault for crowning her the Ambassador. He wasn’t the one who'd brought Velpyre to its knees. He wasn’t the one who'd made Selena’s life a living Hell. Octavia knew she should’ve been grateful just to have him on her back. She was barely grateful to be alive, right now.

And she should’ve been grateful for Viola’s voice--any of them, really, for how many times they’d tried to interact with her in some capacity since reuniting. Their smiles were useless. Their words of comfort and affirmations of success were worthless. Octavia felt bad. She couldn’t help it. She wanted so, so badly to be done. Knowing more was left to come was a dread all its own, even in the exact opposite direction as it was. A lack of Dissonance at the top of the bell tower did not at all mean anything would be easier for her. The repeated implications as to the contrary were infuriating, and she had to resist the urge to snap at them a few times over it.

She didn’t have the energy to deal with a single other Maestro. Her own companions were enough. Octavia thought about checking in on Mina, bedbound as she knew the girl to be. She didn’t have the heart. When River awaited her on the church steps, she had other concerns, and what was left of her soul immediately flooded with sorrow. She didn’t have the strength for this, either.

His smile meant nothing. The warm seafoam that tried to comfort her in gentle waves meant nothing. His soft voice meant nothing, even for how elated he seemed to be just to see her. “Octavia,” he greeted calmly.

She didn’t so much as attempt to reciprocate his joy in the slightest. Clinging to Josiah was all she could manage, and she was glad River didn’t call her out on it. “River,” she offered, nearly monotone. “I’m…glad you’re safe.”

He tilted his head endearingly. “I’m…glad you’re safe, too. I’m glad everyone’s safe. How are you feeling?”

None of his business.

“I’m…I’ll be alright.”

Doubtful.

“How’s the Ensemble?” Harper asked quietly.

“They’re all fine. Mint needs a little while, I think. She’s not supposed to--”

“Ten years, huh.”

The words were out before Octavia could stop them, tinted with bitterness she couldn’t withhold. River recoiled beneath their weight.

“I…what?”

“Mina,” Octavia said sadly, simply.

River paused. “I didn’t have a choice.”

“Aren’t you upset?” Octavia asked, somewhat louder than intended.

River shook his head. “Octavia, I knew what I was doing. I wouldn’t have volunteered for this if I--”

“Why don’t you care?” she snapped. “Why do you value yourself that little?”

River’s eyes flashed with hurt. For a moment, she almost regretted her words. “I do value myself! I know what I did, and I would do it again, but that doesn’t mean I don’t value myself. I already told you that this is what I was born to--”

“Cut the crap! Stop rationalizing it! Stop making it sound more noble than it actually is, because it’s not! You think it’s brave, but it’s not! You think it’s selfless, but it’s not!” Octavia cried, tears pricking at the edges of her eyes. “It’s tragic! It’s not something to be idolized! You weren’t put on this earth to hurt yourself for the sake of other people, so stop twisting things around to make it look that way!”

River winced. “You realize what would’ve happened if I hadn’t done it, right?”

“And I’m grateful for that, River! I’ll always be grateful for that, from the bottom of my heart! That doesn’t mean you have to be okay with it! I’m not okay with it!”

“Why do you care so much about what happens to me?” he asked softly, his voice wavering. “This is my--”

“Because you’re my friend, idiot! What kind of question is that? Don’t tell me you’re being careful and then do things like this!”

“I really, genuinely didn’t have a choice!”

“Octavia,” Josiah urged quietly, settling his free hand atop one shaking shoulder.

Biting back her venom was agonizing. Keeping her tears at bay was just as such. She was surprised she had any left in the first place. It took far more effort than it should’ve to comply with Josiah’s attempts to diffuse.

“What…happened?” Viola murmured. Truthfully, Octavia had forgotten they were even privy to her outburst.

Josiah squeezed her shoulder, a nonverbal plea for her to keep her anger behind her teeth. He answered in her place. “Mina got hurt. It was life-threatening. River used his gift to heal her, and the price was…steep.”

“Very,” Octavia hissed. He tightened his grip. She wasn’t sorry.

Octavia hated the way they only eyed him with concern and horror. She wished just one singular other person would be furious with him for the way he treated his own life’s worth. It wasn’t as though she was enjoying hers much right now. Maybe she had ten years she could offer him back. She wondered if Stratos could help her make it possible, somehow.

“How…much did you say it was?” Harper asked.

“Ten years,” River said calmly.

“Don’t be proud of it!” Octavia snapped.

“Octavia, stop,” Josiah warned, his voice dangerously low.

How could she? The way not one voice scolded him, even now, was miserable.

“Any life-threatening injury,” River clarified, “will almost always cost this much. It’s not something I can help. I was prepared for it to happen, someday. In reality, it’s a…small price to pay for someone’s entire life, when you think about it. It’s something a Spirited Maestro can only do a handful of times in their life.”

“Aren’t you scared?” Viola prodded bluntly. “You don’t know how long you’re going to live for. You don’t know when you’re going to die. Now you have…even less of that. If I were in your shoes, I might’ve hesitated.”

He shook his head. “I made my peace with it a long time ago.”

“I’ve only ever had to use my gift once.”

Madrigal’s voice was soft, almost inaudible. Her eyes were on the ground rather than River--let alone anyone. “Back then, I didn’t know what the cost was, but I still would’ve done it anyway if I knew. I…think I know what you mean.”

River smiled gently. “It’s…something that I think our legacy can understand a bit differently.”

Octavia was, under no circumstances, ignorant to the way Renato’s hollow eyes had pooled with ice. Had they been aimed at River rather than nothing at all, the Spirited boy surely would’ve frozen over. He was silent.

“Still,” Madrigal continued, fidgeting somewhat, “I didn’t have to use as much as you, so I’m sorry.”

“How much was it?” River asked.

“This is a bit of a dark conversation, isn’t it?” Renato interrupted, his voice perhaps as cold as his eyes. The false grin he wore was strained, if not mildly distressing to witness in the first place.

Viola was just close enough to him that her quiet objections were localized. “If she wants to talk about it, let her. Please.”

“I don’t want her to.”

“I know.”

He didn’t argue further. When Renato crossed his arms uncomfortably, Octavia was still conscious of the way he was staring down River with borderline malice. His false fingers trembled somewhat.

“Two years,” Madrigal continued quietly, ignorant to Renato’s interruptions. “I used two years. I know that’s not a whole lot compared to how much you used.”

River shook his head. “Every bit counts. There’s no need to compare. It’s not a competition.”

“At the time, I didn’t actually know how to use it,” Madrigal admitted, swaying idly as she conversed. “I was just really scared and upset, and then it happened. I thought the person I was helping was gonna die. But they were…okay afterwards, so it all worked out. I didn’t find out about the cost until a lot later.”

Renato trembled just the slightest bit more. He gritted his teeth.

River raised an eyebrow. “That person’s life was in danger?”

Madrigal nodded sadly. “Yeah. They would’ve bled out if I didn’t--”

“Did you say two years?”

Again, Madrigal nodded. “Yeah.”

River eyed her warily. “Are you…sure you didn’t mean ten?”

Madrigal blinked. “No, it’s…two. It was two years.”

River was silent for a moment. “Madrigal, I think you might want to talk with your Muse again, because there’s no way that it was only two years.”

Madrigal’s eyes widened. So, too, did Octavia’s, her heart dropping into her stomach. At the very least, Madrigal stole her exclamation of surprise with far more grace than she would’ve used. “What?” she said with soft confusion.

“Either it was roughly the same cost as mine, or your person’s life wasn’t actually in danger. There’s absolutely no other options. There’s…no conceivable way that you saved a person’s life with your gift and only used two years of your lifespan. It’s not possible.”

One of those options was utterly horrifying. The other one was implausible and puzzling. With complete certainty, Renato’s death that night would’ve been unavoidable, had Madrigal not intervened--the bleeding was simply too severe. Octavia’s anger towards River, at least, had now largely melted into befuddlement. It didn’t quite erase all of it in full.

Her confusion wasn’t isolated. In fact, it was widespread, the implications of River’s assertion painted in different manners on every face. Octavia wondered which of them had clung to disbelief. Madrigal seemed to be one of them. In the wake of the incredibly loaded silence, River sighed.

“Octavia,” he asked quietly, “are you going to rest for a bit before you--”

“I’m getting it over with today,” she growled.

And that, too, was somehow a catalyst for puzzled and shocked eyes to fall upon her instead. Even Josiah seemed taken aback. In truth, it was not at all that she wasn’t afraid. She was terrified out of her mind, well aware that her heart would again crumble to dust the moment she had the bell in her sights once more. The fury in her blood, should she direct it away from River, could carry her further than she’d expected. Octavia welcomed the way it burned and boiled in her veins.

“Are you sure?” Viola asked incredulously.

“Yes,” she bit back.

The sooner she was done, the sooner she could return to the peace of Tacell, anyway. If she was going to crumble to dust, she would much prefer to do it in tranquility. Whatever day it was was beyond her, given how long she’d slept and how far off her perception of time was becoming. It would take until at least Sunday for the opportunity to get out. Technically, she had time. Objectively, anger might’ve been stronger than numbness. She had to try while she had the chance.

Renato tapped the tip of his shoe against the ground uncomfortably. “Do you…want us to go up there with you?”

“No.”

That was a surprise even to herself. Octavia regretted it as soon as it was out of her mouth. Her breath hitched in her throat, and she squeezed Josiah’s hand far tighter than she should’ve with bandages on. He squeezed back, as always.

“Can I go with you?”

His voice was a relief, frankly, an escape from her bold declaration. She hoped he couldn’t see her panic, given that she could certainly feel it. Josiah's eyes only offered her calm. “Please?”

She had the slightest feeling she knew why. She wouldn’t press. It was the least she could do to repay him for anything and everything. Octavia nodded. “Y-Yeah.”

If there was any semblance of jealousy or objection, no one gave any indications. River, for as out of place as he now appeared to be, at least tried to grant his best wishes with a straight face. “Good luck, Ambassador,” he tried. “We’ll all…wait for you. Do your best.”

She had nothing else to say to him. Ignoring him likely wasn’t her kindest option. She was eternally grateful when her own circle kept their supportive platitudes to themselves. She couldn’t even find words for Josiah, who’d been kind enough to offer her an escape route. Octavia wondered how much anger it would take to make it to the top of the bell tower. If it could be artificially generated, that would help matters. She could think of Drey, which was always easy. She could think of Portia, perhaps. If she really wanted, she could think of the fact that she’d managed to come up from Velpyre alive. She could think of the fact that even death hadn’t been kind to her.

Do not trust Stratos.

That was irrelevant. She could be as angry as she wanted at him for truly, genuinely believing in her.

----------------------------------------

The steps to the tower were exactly as she’d remembered them. They spiraled, they curved, and their pillared corridor echoed all the way up. Every breath she could possibly have breathed within its tight walls would’ve bounced off and returned to her ears. Volume wasn't a factor, although the current weight of her breaths didn’t help that part even slightly. It was equally as damp and condensed as she’d remembered, the chilling dew of morning surely not doing the stone walls any favors with condensation.

Air circulation was debatable. Octavia would hardly get any regardless, given how difficult it was to inhale any reasonable amount of oxygen. Its height was dizzying. Even if she were to tilt her head backwards and gaze high, high above, the quantity of stairs she would need to climb to reach the top was scathingly abundant. That, too, she remembered vividly. It came to her attention, in passing, that Josiah had never scaled these steps before. Part of Octavia wondered if he’d be okay with the climb, at least physically.

It wouldn’t matter much if she couldn’t take the first step.

Whatever anger she'd hoped to cling to all the way to the top evaporated from her blood the moment one boot had touched the initial stair. Octavia tried again and again to will herself to push, to take the simple action of bending her knees and rising higher. Her legs had pooled with lead, her body overall not faring much better. Her heart, for how hard it was pounding, didn’t seem to need much exertion to prompt its frantic beating.

Given that Allison had preceded them, she had half a mind to wonder if the bells she was hearing were a cruel prank. Josiah had promised her silence, at least for several days. Even so, here they were again, horrific to a degree that she usually didn’t have to endure. She typically didn’t have to breathe in the same scents, to feel the same rugged sensations of her skin scraping the stone walls for support. They were achingly familiar. They were her missing puzzle pieces. It was sickeningly perfect.

If Octavia wanted to, she could be there. She didn’t want to. It wasn’t a choice.

It didn’t matter that she’d already seen Sonata’s toll. It would fix nothing, ultimately, and the fresh sight had only served to rip her skin clean off her body all over again. Even now, she absolutely couldn't shake the desperate screaming out of her head. She still knew she never would. She could see both of them, even if Selena’s entire life possibly awaited her at the top of the endless climb before her. Her last ascent had been panicked and determined, hopeful in a way that still spoke to self-confidence. Octavia missed it. She wondered how bad coming down would be, given what that had followed. She didn’t remember much of that part, to be fair.

They were so loud. They were so, so loud. She covered, and the bandages only irritated her ears. If she slammed her head hard enough against the walls, maybe she’d lose her sense of hearing entirely. That would be nice. Octavia wanted to scream, perhaps even louder than Sonata. She could’ve sworn the bells were somehow getting louder. Maybe she’d simply lose her hearing the hard way. Squeezing her eyes shut wasn’t blurring their faces, contorted with fear and agony as they’d been.

She needed to be angry. She needed to be numb. She had neither to cling to. Even if there was time to change her mind, it would still need to be done. Valkyrie’s Call would still sit high above, out of reach and awaiting the Ambassador’s touch. She thought of surrendering again. This wasn’t healthy. There was nothing left to give.

Octavia lost her wrists. For how weak she'd become, it surely didn’t take much effort for anything to pull them away. Covering her ears wasn’t helping one bit, regardless. Tugged forwards as they were, her surprise outdid her immediate reflex to resist. She gave in by one step exactly.

“God, this is a lot of stairs. This is gonna kill my knees. Not really looking forward to it.”

Again, he pulled. Again, she surrendered, just one step more.

“I’m not exactly an athletic person. You’ve got me beat by quite a bit on that. I like being indoors more than being outdoors, and that was kind of how I grew up. That’s…probably obvious, huh? Not really a lot of reasons to go outside.”

Climbing stairs backwards was dangerous. Josiah did it anyway.

“I mean, when I used to go above and below again, I had to use the staircase down there--which still wasn’t exactly a breeze, but it was better than this. It definitely doesn’t need to be that high. There’s plenty of churches that put their bells way lower. Again, this whole city is so dramatic.”

Octavia didn’t dare take her eyes off his, lest she fall to pieces right here and now.

“Did you ever stop to consider my date offer? We still have to kill a few days after this before we can get out of here. Why the hell they don’t have trains coming and going more often is beyond me. Well, actually, that’s a lie. Barely anyone comes here, so I kind of get it. It’s so stupid that we ended up on a train again. My fault for not thinking about that one longer. I’m sure Harper thought it was funny, at least. Can’t stand him.”

However many steps she’d gone up, she’d lost track. There was more oxygen available than usual.

“Did I tell you what he did to my aloe? He ended up with all my freakin’ aloe. He’s a little injury magnet. Every time he practices, he gets burned somehow because he’s screwing around and trying to learn new stuff. I stopped treating him myself and just gave him the whole jar. Now, I have to go get more because he can’t exercise a shred of caution. Is there aloe in Tacell? I feel like there should be aloe in Tacell, somewhere.”

Up and up and up she was climbing. Somehow, he, too, was doing the same.

“I’m not saying this to be condescending or arrogant, but...genuine question, how did you guys even survive before I got here? Like, I feel like at least one of you gets injured in some capacity on a weekly basis. Sometimes, you rotate. I mean, I say ‘you guys’ like I’m not part of ‘you guys’ as a whole, but you know what I mean. I still swear Harper’s the worst about it, though.”

Octavia was afraid to check her distance. It wasn’t as though looking over her shoulder was possible, not with the angle Josiah was pulling her along at. Still, this couldn’t have been good for him, physically. With her cracked voice and dry mouth, she fought for her life to say as much.

“You’re…gonna get hurt…going backwards.”

He tilted his head. “It’s kind of fun.”

“I can…walk. Go…forwards.”

Josiah took a startlingly long time to accept her words, unfurling his fingers from one of her wrists slowly. Even if the steps were too narrow to walk beside her, he never released her other wrist in the slightest. If he stopped pulling, gentle as the motion was, Octavia worried she might freeze in place forever. The bells were softer, even ever-present as they were.

“This might sound silly out loud, but...do you want to start a garden in Tacell, or something? I know a few of the Maestros have one. Not just, like, the food ones, either. Maybe this is a little ambitious, but I thought it’d be fun to try to grow my own medicinal stuff. Herbs and succulents, and all that. It’d keep me from having to go to Selbright, and I think it’d be an interesting experiment. Like I said, though, I didn’t really grow up in nature. I don’t know a lot about that kind of thing. Could you teach me?”

Even lightheaded, it was getting easier to see straight. “Teach you…how to grow stuff?”

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He smiled. “Yeah. I’m afraid I’m gonna end up killing everything. We didn’t really have a lot of plants in Velpyre because we…well, we didn’t really have a lot of sunlight. When I was little, Selena told me she was upset about that. I made her a bunch of little paper flowers and left them all over her bed. I don’t think I folded them properly, but she still kept them anyway.”

“What happened to them?” she asked, more clearly than expected.

Josiah shrugged. “I don’t know, actually. Maybe she’s still got them stashed somewhere. It was a lot. Easily thirty or forty. Tried to make them colorful. Looking back, I think it would’ve made her laugh a lot more if I drew, like, a single crappy flower and stuck it to the wall.”

Octavia stared at him silently. His face fell. “Does it…hurt you when I talk about her?”

It was a loaded question. She wasn’t entirely sure how to answer, nor was she entirely sure how she felt in the first place. There’d been a time when Selena’s name alone had made her sick, through absolutely no fault of the acolyte’s. It wasn’t fair. “N-No.”

“It’s okay if it does. I can stop.”

Octavia shook her head. “Tell me…more about her. I-I didn’t really know her for very long, so most things I know about her are from…you.”

Josiah's smile, when it returned, was warm. “I…this is gonna sound so embarrassing. I’ve daydreamed a few times about her being part of this little mess. Sometimes, I wonder how she would’ve gotten along with everyone if she knew them for longer than she had. I know she wouldn’t have been able to take Seraphim along with her, but I don’t think she would’ve cared if it meant she could get out of Velpyre in the first place. I think she would’ve loved Coda. I…think she would’ve loved you guys.”

Octavia resisted the urge to avert her eyes. “I don’t think we made a very good first impression.”

Again, he shrugged. “Don’t worry about it. You had no way of knowing. Neither did I. You got stuck in the middle, and it was really crappy that you ended up as a messenger. I hope that wasn’t the lasting impression you got of her. She’s…not a bad person, I promise.”

She shook her head quickly. “N-No, I never meant to imply that! Of course she’s not!”

Josiah chuckled. “No, I know that’s not how you meant it. It’s alright. She had more than enough people who thought she was, though. For that tiny amount of time you guys knew her, I think having more than just me on her side made her happy. She…didn’t show it.”

“How do you know that?”

“I know her,” he spoke with mild pride. “I know her better than anyone could ever. Maybe it’s a bit arrogant of me to be proud of that. We grew up together. That was the closest I could possibly imagine being to another person. I’d be willing to bet she knew me better than I knew myself, sometimes. It went both ways.”

Octavia couldn’t bring herself to smile. She still, even now, couldn’t bring herself to assess her progress over her shoulder. She was convinced she could feel a breeze, somewhat distant as it was. She didn’t dwell on it. “I’m…happy that you guys had each other.”

The way Josiah smiled when he spoke about Selena was different. Octavia liked it. When the same smile clouded with melancholy, his eyes following suit, she wasn’t quite as satisfied. “There’s days where I think about what she saw up until the end in my head. I didn’t get to say goodbye to her. That’ll always bother me, to tell you the truth. Even now, this is retracing her footsteps a bit, isn’t it? She was here. Maybe that should make me feel worse, but it’s almost doing the opposite. There’s probably something messed up about that, I know. To…see through her eyes at her lowest, I know I’ll never really get that chance. I know that’s not something I should want. It still doesn’t stop me from thinking about it every now and then.”

When Octavia fell silent, he relented with wide eyes and apologies. “Sorry, wait, that’s not what I meant. I’m not trying to make light of it. I’m not trying to say it’s something you should--”

“It’s okay,” she reassured, shaky as her hand was in his own. “I’m…sorry we can’t switch places.”

When she offered nothing more, he didn’t give her anything to work with but a gaze of immediate regret. Octavia sighed weakly. “That’s why you wanted to come up here with me, isn’t it?”

Josiah tore his eyes from hers. It hurt to lose them. “You have every right to be mad at me.”

She shook her head. “I’m not. Maybe I would’ve done the same thing, in your shoes.”

“I can’t…prove she’s going to be the toll for Valkyrie’s Call. It was just a feeling. I’m sorry to put this on your shoulders, especially after everything you’ve already had to deal with.”

“Don’t be,” Octavia fought to offer calmly. “I would’ve had to do it anyway. I think it might be her, too. If it is, at least someone can benefit from what I have to do. That…makes it easier.”

If she could trade her role with another for one single toll, she still would’ve hesitated somewhat. Provided the final toll awaiting her in Velrose truly was one more ill-fated acolyte, she was still the only survivor of the struggle atop the bell tower that day. The idea of sharing that scene with prying eyes, even hypothetically, was enough to send a wave of nausea crashing over her again.

She was hit by a second one the moment the sky-high breeze of autumn kissed her in full. She earned another. Then another. If she vomited in such a sacred place, she wondered where her soul would go when she died. She wondered if the worst option would outdo how she already felt.

Octavia stumbled upon reaching the top of the stairs, the overpowering dizziness and disorientation enough to nearly knock her flat on her back. It wasn’t as though she could perform the Witnessing without looking at the Harmonial Instrument in question. For as large as Valkyrie’s Call was, it would’ve been an impossible feat regardless. She didn’t care if Allison saw the way her eyes surely filled with glass. She hardly registered that Allison was here at all.

Josiah caught her on the way down, hooking his arms quickly beneath her own as her vision blurred. For as substantially as the strength of sound had ravaged her body from the inside-out each time Valkyrie’s Call had cried out to her, it was in complete silence that she was most shaken.

Octavia didn’t cry. She didn’t scream. Not a tear left her eyes, nor did any rise to meet them in the first place. Words were a fantasy she couldn’t grasp. If she scoured every last inch of the tolling rope with her eyes, if she chased down every single fiber that those slender hands could’ve clung to so desperately, maybe she’d still find Sonata there in the worst way.

There wasn’t a speck, nor a shred, nor a patch, nor a drop of the Velrose Acolyte’s anguish painting the bell in any capacity. It had been some time, after all. Still, she couldn’t be blamed for expecting at least one stain. In some sick way, she would almost have preferred it.

Octavia stared down Valkyrie’s Call. Valkyrie’s Call stared back. Her eyes flickered, at least once, to the railing that had swallowed both acolytes whole in tandem. Even now, she could trace their exact path there with her eyes, if she chose. She didn’t particularly get to choose, for how instinctive of a motion it was. If she peered over the rail once more, maybe they’d still be down there. Maybe the stains were still there. Under no circumstances could she summon the courage to check.

She was vaguely aware of Allison’s eyes on her, and surely Josiah’s as well--the latter, granted, was likely a byproduct of her continued security in his arms. Octavia never did figure out exactly who'd discovered their bodies first. It bothered her far more than it should’ve, as with so many other things.

Of all places she would’ve expected to hear bells, she found none. It was as much of a relief as it was vehemently unnatural. In her defense, this was the last place she’d ever genuinely heard them. They hadn’t stilled in peace. If Allison were to play now, so, so close to her, Octavia couldn’t begin to fathom her own reaction. She didn’t try. She could hardly stop floating as it was, further above the bell tower than was necessary.

“Octavia.”

Where she would’ve expected to hear Josiah’s voice, she found the little acolyte’s instead. The wide eyes that challenged the bright sky overhead fixed her with innocent curiosity, and it didn’t quite hurt. “Thank you for…coming up here. I know there’s lots of stairs.”

Octavia nodded so slowly that the motion didn’t even register at first. “I-I…it’s…okay,” she struggled to breathe.

Josiah did everything in his power to balance hoisting her to her feet with efficiency and gentleness. He was largely successful, her small bout of staggering notwithstanding. He still kept himself close, lest she have the same reaction once more. For that, Octavia was grateful. “Thanks for meeting us here,” he offered to Allison quietly.

She nodded as well, her hands folded neatly over the skirt of her robes. “I…didn’t think you were gonna want to meet Valkyrie so soon. I thought Seraphim would’ve made you tired.”

That was the most powerful understatement Octavia had ever heard. Deep inside, some part of her could’ve died from laughter. “I wanted to get them both done quickly,” she answered instead.

Octavia’s eyes were barely for Allison in the first place, continuing to bore holes into the bell as they were. Allison’s gaze upon her partner was far softer by comparison. Their size difference was still incredibly striking, even relative to that of the acolyte before her. Even now, the mental image of Allison ringing the bell wasn’t something Octavia could wrap her head around, try as she might.

“I’m…I get to meet Valkyrie, so I’m happy,” Allison murmured. “Even if it won’t be for very long.”

She almost felt bad, for how dismissive her urgency was to the child. “I-I…I’m sure Valkyrie’s Call is looking forward to meeting you, too.”

Allison didn’t smile. Never once had Octavia seen her smile, and that hurt in its own way. If this was what it took to make the little acolyte happy, maybe that was worth something, too.

When Allison only eyed her semi-expectantly, she could feel herself sweating. It took far, far more effort than it should’ve to depart from Josiah’s radius in any capacity. He trailed behind her, at least briefly. At the foot of the bell, the space he gave her was as necessary as it was highly unwelcome. Her audience of two wasn’t a problem, numerically speaking. They were, perhaps, the two people in the world most in need of her touch upon Valkyrie’s Call. How unfortunate, then, that it was the one place of which she’d sooner sear her fingers off than lay her hands upon.

You are afraid of me.

Octavia recoiled. The steps she stumbled backwards were few, yet notable. Whether or not it was an accusation was debatable, the deep and resonant tone in her mind echoing so much like the vessel it claimed. Her heart would surely never return to a normal rhythm again, given how these last few days were treating her.

“Octavia?” she heard Josiah ask with worry.

Am I correct?

She didn’t acknowledge Josiah. She could barely acknowledge the voice that pressed her. That’s…not true.

You run from me.

Octavia shook her head. It’s not you.

You hide from me.

Again, it’s not you.

Then for what reason have you sought to evade me?

The degree to which her fingernails were digging into her own palms was painful, slicing their way through the bandages in earnest. It wasn’t important. I don’t want to be here. Not because of you, but because of something that happened.

What is it from which you run?

Octavia gritted her teeth. This wasn’t their business. I made a mistake. I don’t like to think about it. That’s all.

You blame yourself.

Under no circumstances was she going to tear up in front of Valkyrie’s Call. It was the poorest possible first impression she could think of making, even if it wasn’t quite her first. And if I do?

Then such blame is misplaced.

You don’t know that.

I say so with certainty.

How?

I was there.

Her blood froze in her veins. To be fair, the puzzle pieces were there, spilled and well-worn as they were. It wouldn’t have taken a miracle to smash them together.

The blame lies not with you.

Had she not been the Ambassador, Octavia was certain her voice aloud would’ve cracked instead. This was the only blessing she could count. It wasn’t Selena’s fault, either, or Sonata’s. They needed help. I couldn’t give it to them. Who else’s fault could it be?

My own.

Octavia’s breath hitched in her throat. What?

And that of Seraphe, as well.

Again, she couldn’t help but shake her head. I don’t understand.

It is our presence that has led to such tragedy and suffering. The blame lies not with our own, but with those amongst this world who would walk a path of corruption and depravity. In some ways, it should have been anticipated.

Octavia did what she could to meet the instrument with eyes as soft as their partner’s own. But you didn’t do anything wrong, either. Neither of you. You didn’t ask for this.

How ironic it is, that such which was so reprehensible became unavoidable. It was not by our own volition. It was loathsome. It was, and is, a torture. This is far from a path we had ever wished to tread. Please understand, Ambassador, that this was not our choice. This is not what we hoped to become.

Her fists trembled more fiercely than she would’ve liked. I know you didn’t want this.

We did not wish to be deified.

I…get it.

We did not wish to interfere.

I know.

We would not walk the same path as she.

Octavia paused. It took a moment for her fingers to uncurl, for her eyes to widen. Where she’d battled shaky breaths out of fear, she found only uneven rattles of confusion in their place. She didn’t have the heart to press her bandaged fingertips to the bronze. The words she found were aloud, instead, untethered to the privacy gifted to the Ambassador alone. It wasn’t a dismissal so much as an invitation.

“Show me what you look like,” she whispered. “I want to see you.”

Where Sonata had once compared Seraphim’s Call and Valkyrie’s Call, a picture of parallel identities had been painted. Several times over, she’d heard them decreed as “twins”, or another variant of the same. Octavia understood now. He was the splitting image of Seraphe in every way.

The Muse that met her eyes could, quite literally, pass as his twin. He was breathtakingly beautiful, much the same visage of radiant masculinity as his counterpart so far below. Angelic in equal measure, the milky brilliance that wrapped him up and speckled the air he claimed was far more divine beneath the shimmering rays of the sun.

Upon the backdrop of the bell, glistening gorgeously under a shining day, he may have even been more resplendent than Seraphe altogether. Octavia’s mouth felt dry. Once more, she patiently awaited the moment when angel wings would surely unfurl and the divinity he so rejected would bless her in full. She consciously resisted the urge to bow her head in his presence, uncomfortable as the reflex was. She could hardly tear her eyes from him in the first place.

Octavia's first attempts at an introduction made it absolutely nowhere. “You’re…”

He filled in where she left off effortlessly. When he bowed to her instead, her breath fled her body altogether. It felt undeserved and surreal. She had half a mind to beg him to stop, to straighten up and leave the humble gesturing to someone far less regal.

“I am Valkyria,” he spoke softly, “the Apex of Strength.”

Whatever introduction she’d cobbled together on her lips fizzled out instantly.

Josiah, behind her, was apparently equally as baffled. The space he’d respectfully given her was dashed in an instant, and his own wide eyes were hers to observe in full. “Did…you say Apex of Strength?”

He nodded. “That is correct.”

Every word that left him was one Octavia couldn’t think straight enough to say herself. Even if the sentiments were there, they surely never would’ve found any coherent form of expression. Josiah was the translator she didn’t know she needed. “This…whole time?” he continued in disbelief.

Again did the Muse nod. “Long have I languished atop this place. To be in the presence of the Ambassador at last is a miracle of which words will do no justice.”

Even if she couldn’t acknowledge his incredible status, Octavia could at least acknowledge her title. The stammering wasn’t intentional, nor was the way the depth of her own bow nearly dragged her braids against the stones at her feet. “I-I’m Octavia, the Ambassador. I-It’s wonderful to finally meet you.”

She bit her lip immediately. For how long she’d dreaded facing him, she wondered if he could tell exactly how much of that was a lie. She wondered how much of it was a lie, herself. He didn’t press her on it.

“You’re…they’ve been looking for you,” Josiah explained breathlessly. “I just…how? I never thought it’d be…you.”

“Did…you know?” Octavia asked, her gaze flickering to the starry-eyed acolyte instead.

It was amazing that she could get Allison’s attention at all, given how wonderfully fixated she was on her partner’s divine image. “I don’t know what we’re talking about. I’m sorry.”

She should’ve expected as much. “That’s…okay.”

For how little the newest Velrose Acolyte was by comparison to the Muse, it was no surprise when he lowered himself to her level. The sight was almost endearing, even as their notable size difference continued to endure. She gazed upon him with only curiosity in place of fear. His bow of respect wasn't offered to the Ambassador alone.

“And you, my child, we finally meet,” he spoke gently. “It is a pleasure.”

Allison hesitated for a moment before returning his bow, although not quite as deep as Octavia’s own. “My name is Allison. It’s nice to meet you, Valkyria. I like your name.”

“I like your name, as well.”

It was the first smile Octavia had ever seen grace the young acolyte’s face, beaming and beautiful in the face of his praise. It was the first warmth she’d felt in her heart in what felt like far too long. It was one of the only things she’d hoped for, and it was a single prayer she’d finally had answered. Octavia could’ve cried. She almost did.

“Thank you for being my friend.”

“And of you, I say the same. I feel your love.”

“I do love you.”

“I know it to be true.”

Octavia didn’t have the heart to interrupt them. For as long as Allison had longed for this, and for as much as she'd lost, she deserved at least one moment of happiness. Josiah didn’t push.

“Was I a good acolyte?”

“You were, and you are. You are a wonderful partner, above all else. You bring grace and beauty to your legacy in abundance, and your strength is to be admired.”

“You’re so nice. I knew you’d be nice.”

“How could you be so certain, my child?”

“I just knew.”

It took Octavia a moment to realize she was smiling, too. It felt unusual. It felt good.

“Does it hurt when I play you?”

“Not at all. Does it pain you?”

“It doesn’t hurt. I get sore, sometimes. They make me do it a lot. If it’s for you, though, it’s okay.”

“I…apologize that my presence has caused you such grief.”

Allison shook her head. “I’m happy I got to be with you. That makes it worth it.”

“For every manner by which I have brought suffering unto you, you would still say so?”

“I like you. I like being with you. I like knowing that you’re there. It makes me less lonely.”

“I would not have faulted you for your hatred, for what agony you have surely endured.”

“I would never hate you. Mommy loved you, and Sonata loved you, so I love you, too.”

It was apparently obvious that Octavia was about to become emotional, for the way Josiah gently rested one hand upon her shoulder. She rested her bandaged fingertips atop his own quietly, grateful for his presence alone.

“You’re gonna have to go home soon, right?”

“I will not forget you.”

“Will you get to see Seraphim’s Call again?”

“I believe I will.”

“Are you excited?”

“I am.”

“Can you say hi for me? I never got to meet Seraphim. I wanted to do that, too.”

“I shall. Will you be alright in my absence?”

“I’ll be lonely.”

Valkyria chuckled softly. It was a sound Octavia enjoyed, somewhat. “You are honest.”

“It’s true. I’ll miss you a lot. I don’t have anyone left.”

“I will be in your heart, as will you be in my own.”

“Promise?”

“I do.”

It wasn’t at all that Octavia had any fleeting desire to return to Velrose after this. Still, she could at least write to the little acolyte. Someday, maybe she’d find the strength to do more. It was a bridge she’d cross once her heart stopped stinging.

“I’m…okay now,” Allison offered softly.

At first, Octavia believed her words to be for Valkyria yet again. When those round eyes fell upon herself, instead, it took her a moment to recognize their intent.

“I’m ready to say goodbye,” Allison clarified. “I’m…ready for Valkyria to go home and get to see his family. What do I have to do, Ambassador?”

Octavia shook her head. “You don’t have to do anything. I’m gonna take care of everything else. It’s alright.”

Allison nodded quietly. “Okay.”

Octavia raised her eyes to the Muse, who reciprocated her gaze. “You…said you didn’t want to be deified. I get that, but…you said something else, too.”

Valkyria hesitated. “This city is a farce, as is that which rests below it. I am to blame for my misplaced trust, for the way I had once spoken of Above to one of my own from so long ago. So, too, came forth such an imitation, a blasphemous perversion of a realm so sacred in a world so impure. It was, and is, a sickening display. I will admit to dreams of casting judgment upon them as the deity they chose me to be, and yet I could not dare to interfere. This is no Above.”

“Above,” Josiah breathed slowly, “and below.”

He nodded. “Indeed.”

Josiah’s breathing quickened. “That’s…sick. That’s disgusting! Is that really why?”

“I do not disagree with you, child,” Valkyria said sadly.

“What about the blossom and the flame? What the hell is that about? The acolytes? The…all the restrictions? Where’d that come from?” he practically cried.

Valkyria shook his head. “As to those, I know not. Representations of purity and sin, I have come to presume. Their origins are not of my own words, nor those of Seraphe. Of this, I am certain. It is…unsettling.”

Josiah exhaled sharply, squeezing his eyes shut as he battled for his composure. “They don’t deserve you. If nothing else, I’ll…feel better when you’re back where you’re supposed to be. I’m sure you will, too, and I hope Seraphe does, as well. No amount of me apologizing is going to do a thing.”

“I am appreciative of your sentiments, regardless. I am aware of Seraphe’s prior predicament, from what my own has told me. If it would not trouble you to answer, might I know who he chose to call his own in his final moments upon this world?”

Octavia froze. She almost didn’t have the heart to look at Josiah’s face. To her immense surprise, he seemed far, far calmer than she’d expected him to be. For a brief moment, he threw his eyes at the floor of the bell tower.

“Celestina Ebony. Former acolyte of the Ebony family. She was his partner, once. She…ran away,” he explained quietly.

“Yet she chose to return?”

Octavia wouldn’t dare say why. Josiah shirked the exact same admission. “Without her, he wouldn’t have been able to get home. You guys didn’t exactly make it easy to find a solid partner. We didn’t even know if she could reforge her bond with him at all. We…didn’t have a choice but to try.”

Valkyria fell silent for a moment. “It was…only in the blood of our own legacies that we could trust. In these false sanctuaries, we carried little faith in those whose strength was not of pure intent. I assure you, we never intended to bring them suffering. It seems that is what became of our actions, nonetheless. He surely had never left her blood in full, even long after he had been shunned by her hands. To know that they were reunited at last is a comfort of sorts.”

“Did she…know?” Octavia tried. “That he didn’t forget about her?”

“I would like to imagine,” Valkyria offered. “Even should we part with our own, we will always be bound by blood from afar. It matters not with whom we next stand alongside. Only in our departure from this realm would that be lost.”

Octavia fidgeted slightly. “I…like to imagine she knew, too. I know why she left, but she…seemed good to him. I wonder if he missed that.”

“I am grateful he found his peace,” Valkyria said gently, “and I pray that she did, as well.”

Octavia inhaled. She exhaled. Neither breath was calm, let alone steady. “I…want to grant you your peace, too. You deserve it. You deserve better.”

“I will not impede your efforts, Ambassador, nor will I seek to stifle my relief. I will not offer platitudes you have surely heard time and time again from my brethren. I will simply give my gratitude, once and once alone. I hope it will suffice.”

She nodded. “I don’t need praise. I just want you to be safe. I want you to be happy.”

“And I wish the same unto you, for all you have surely been through.”

Octavia tensed. It took effort to relax her fingers, clenching and unclenching a fist she hadn’t even realized she was holding. She met his gaze with every ounce of false calm she could scrounge up.

“I’m ready,” she lied, “whenever you are.”

The Muse paused. Octavia closed her eyes. The trembling was involuntary. Logically, there was no possible way for Valkyrie’s Call to come even remotely close to the toll count of its partner so far below. It still didn’t stop her heart from pounding, her blood from rushing, her knees from shaking. She didn’t watch Allison’s face as Valkyria borrowed her name. She couldn’t bear to watch anything, lost only in prayer after prayer as she was.

“Allison Ivory,” he spoke, “your toll has been paid once over.”

Once.

“Now, Ambassador, see through the eyes of the one who paid the toll.”

And she was all but confident.

And when she turned her head, cracking her eyes open slowly, Josiah, too, had concluded the same. She wasn’t sure what to expect--anger, hurt, fear, any other myriad of distressed emotions. The faint smile that had crossed his lips was incredibly jarring. He offered it to her, and she accepted it with immense disorientation.

“I knew it,” he murmured.

Octavia wasn’t sure what led her to call his name. “Josiah?”

“That’s her,” he continued softly. “She’s in there.”

Octavia gulped. “Does that…bother you?”

He shook his head, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “On the contrary. I know where she is now. It takes a weight off my shoulders.”

She didn’t get to respond. His words were as gentle as his eyes. “You said you wished you got to know her better, right? This is the best possible way you could get to know her. Hope there’s nothing too embarrassing in there. Now I’m kind of nervous, actually. I’m sure I’ll…be in there quite a bit. If you get lonely, look for me, okay?”

Octavia nodded. “I…okay.”

“I know how it ends,” Josiah continued, somewhat more serious. “I know you know, too. I don’t…want to dismiss a lot of what you’re gonna see. Her life wasn’t pretty. She went through a lot, and I wouldn’t wish the things she dealt with on anyone. I’m sorry you have to do this at all. I’ll be here for you when you’re done, no matter what happens or what you see in there. I lived to see a lot of it. I know how much it sucked, even from the outside looking in.”

Again, she nodded, stretching her fingers experimentally. “O-Okay.”

She didn’t get to lift her other hand, even if she would’ve wanted to. Josiah squeezed it ever so gently, the smile on his face matching beautifully. “You…don’t have to tell me everything. You barely have to tell me anything. Don’t get me wrong, I’m curious to hear about all the ridiculous things she did that I don’t know about. I’d love to find out where she hid all the stuff she used to steal from me, too. That’s…not that important. Just whatever you’re willing to spare. I’ll take the highlights, if you’re willing. Okay? The…nice stuff. I know she’s got nice stuff in there. I know her.”

Octavia couldn’t return his smile. She nodded again anyway. “Okay.”

He squeezed her hand once more. She squeezed back. “I’ll…wait for you,” he said softly.

She was immediately lonely the second she was freed from his grip, only glimmering bronze awaiting her touch instead. She hoped her bandages wouldn’t get in the way, frankly, a problem she’d never had to deal with before. Her fingers trembled on the way up, as she’d more or less expected. It was involuntary.

Octavia offered her eyes only to the surface of Valkyrie’s Call, struggling to ignore her own reflection just barely visible upon the metal. It was the second-least welcome sight she could hope for at the moment. She dreaded engaging with the first.

She wondered if she would’ve been panicking more, had Josiah not painted for her such a soft picture of what would surely be one of the most brutal tolls imaginable. It was by no means Selena’s fault. If she really, truly hoped to understand the acolyte, then his words definitely held water, at least logically. Still, the idea of suffering what Octavia knew her to have suffered was not a pleasant image.

At the very least, Josiah would be down there with her. If his words were to be believed, he would be down there with her quite a bit. That alone was a comfort. She wondered if that, too, was how Selena had felt.

Octavia couldn’t bear to look at her own reflection a moment longer, nor could she physically witness the moment it happened. She squeezed her eyes shut, battling the way her body rejected oxygen as her palm came to rest flat against the warm bronze. Diving into the dark was much easier when she was already there.