On her first trip to Selbright, Faith's two souvenirs came in the form of bloodied hands and the ceiling of the inn. She’d burned the latter into her brain.

  Do you want to talk?

  No.

  She’d embraced the dark, forged of her own accord and unrelated to haunting alleyways.

  Have you…eaten dinner?

  No.

  She hadn’t managed to sleep. She hadn’t even managed to change her clothes, nor wash her face, nor move in any capacity since she’d first touched the bed.

  Are you hungry at all? Would you like me to bring you something? You don’t have to come downstairs.

  No.

  River refused to take the hint for far too long.

  Would you…like me to give you some space?

  Yes.

  Even that hadn’t been an immediate relief.

  I’m here if you need me, okay? We all are.

  Faith was confident that he was speaking on their behalf. She believed him and him alone, whether or not she wanted him near her. She still hadn’t decided if she was angry. She still hadn’t decided exactly what she was angry about in the first place. For once, the loneliness of her own assigned room was a blessing rather than a curse. She didn’t want company, least of all theirs.

  The case resting peacefully on the table beyond was the closest companion she could ask for, at the moment. That line of conversation would've been a trial, too--internal or not. They were partners in crime, technically. They were equally guilty. They were equally stained and equally ruthless. In that way, there was no one better to hear her messy thoughts. Faith hadn’t straightened them out enough to even find where to start.

  The mental image was more or less seared into her eyes. She had a feeling she wouldn’t be getting rid of it anytime soon, terrifically annihilated as the man had been. His sins meant little, and her brutality probably outdid what he deserved. It might’ve been wrong of her to expect Francisco to be grateful. It was almost certainly wrong of her to expect anything from Francisco at all.

  Faith bashed her head against the pillow, her crowning braids snagging against the fabric. Plagued by sweat and soaked in tears, she was vividly uncomfortable. She couldn’t bring herself to entertain self-care. There was a possibility that she didn’t deserve it. Special as she was, she wondered if they’d chide her for letting herself fall apart--physically, if nothing else. If her hands and her eyes served her well, that might’ve been all the Ambassador would need.

  Swaddled in the shadows of the room, her eyes bored holes in the ceiling again. Jasse, she finally tried.

  I am here.

  Faith pinched the fabric of the sheets between her fingers, never once removing her eyes. Did I do good?

  Regarding?

  The fact that she needed to say it was painful--for more reasons than one. Paying my toll. Your toll, I mean. I…did all of that for you.

  River’s sentiments were convenient, for once. They still felt strange to echo. Ideally, she’d etch them into her heart before her task began in earnest. For what she’d have to endure, it would surely be a necessary mantra.

  You have done what is necessary.

  Faith tensed. But did I do a…good job?

  You have done what you must to pay the toll. For that, I am grateful.

  She’d always had trouble with Jasse, in terms of praise. She wasn’t sure why she bothered fishing for it. If she truly wanted validation, she could probably pry it out of River. It was infinitely more helpful than Renegadria could ever be. What possessed her to keep pressing rather than simply seek out his room was beyond her. Am I ready yet?

  The time shall come. That time is not now.

  Her stomach sank. It was her fault for expecting a different answer, really. What else am I supposed to do? That didn’t prove how far I’ll go for this?

  Jasse didn’t hesitate, and her voice was as firm as ever. You must be patient. Your resolve has been acknowledged. Still, this is not what--

  “I’m ready to be the Ambassador now,” Faith insisted aloud, her voice painfully hoarse. “I’m ready. I swear.”

  It is not so simple.

  “Jasse, I’m ready. I’m…I-I can make hard decisions. I can do whatever you need. I’ll prove it. Please, just give me a chance. I’ll be the best Ambassador I can be. I promise I won’t let you down.”

  Faith, Jasse pushed, your drive is admirable. Your devotion is visible, and the way by which you strive to grow for the sake of our salvation is commendable. Even so, at this time, you cannot yet claim the role. I say again, it is not so simple.

  “What else do I have to do?” Faith asked urgently. “I can prove myself.”

  The burden lies not with you.

  Only now did she recognize the praise, buried as it had been behind rejection. The warmth she’d craved was made cold in the worst way. Faith gripped the sheets tightly enough to strain the fabric. “How much longer do I have to wait? You…you all really need the Ambassador. I’m here now. I’m ready to help.”

  As to how long you would wait, I know not. There are…reasons for each choice we make, Faith. Know this to be true. The appointment of the role is far more elaborate than you believe it to be.

  Faith was quiet for a moment. “You have other Heartful Maestros to choose from, right? To be the Ambassador?”

  On a rational level, you are correct, Jasse said. That is not to say that every one of our own would be suitable for the role, should they see fit to assume it.

  “Are you all…considering anyone else?”

  When Jasse was quiet in turn, Faith’s heart skipped a beat. It took far too long for her to earn an answer. Should I have my way, you would serve as the Ambassador before long. Until that time, better yourself, as you have done. Become an Ambassador that does not falter, nor one that hesitates in the throes of crisis. Strive to do what you must, and to challenge that which would terrorize your heart. Should you struggle, you shall have my support.

  Breathing came easier. Faith hadn’t realized she’d been having trouble with it in the first place. Jasse’s support was better than mortal support in every way. She clung to it. “You want me to…keep getting stronger for you. Is that it?”

  Do what you must, Jasse insisted. I cannot speak as to what that would entail, for you know your heart as well as I. Your strength is your own. Become the Ambassador that you wish to be. However you would seek to improve, I will match your resolve. Know this to be true.

  Again, she was fidgeting with the sheets. “What do you want me to do?”

  That is for you to decide.

  The sentiment was almost nauseating. Faith couldn’t pinpoint why, and trying only made it worse. “What do you want me to do?” she repeated.

  She earned silence. The lump in her throat was frustrating, if not incredibly unwanted. She didn’t bother pushing. Knowing Jasse, this was the furthest she’d get.

  Faith sat up quickly enough that it made her dizzy, and she embraced a room that spun relentlessly in the dark. For more than a moment, it was all she could do to stare at the viola case resting quietly on the tabletop. At the very least, one of them was tranquil. There was a different frustration that came with her inability to steal Jasse’s calm, if not her privilege to simply observe.

  There was a mirror to her left, if she cared to turn her head. Given what Ambassador she’d have to observe there, too, she second-guessed her envy so soon after. Faith didn’t dare look, for fear of what she’d find.

  Just the same, she second-guessed her dismissal of a spirit of wind in a distant room. In the dark, there was so little upon which to shine. She could reach for him. She could shun him. She could tear him apart and put him back together, pruning what was dangerous and leaving what was soft. It would be a fair trade. She’d earned the right, given all she’d done for River tonight. He couldn’t take anything else.

  Faith rose to her feet, and a viola case rose to her shoulders. If there was still more to take, it would be by her own hands and of her own volition. What she would do once she had it was irrelevant. It would be her choice alone. That would be a first, and that would be all that mattered.

  She didn’t remember where it was. She guessed for longer than she would’ve liked, and she was left to wander beneath a sky that grew ever more clouded. What silky starlight had guided her heinous path now slipped behind a fog unseen. The weakened moon was a poor guide, and every step was haphazard. Faith didn’t know Selbright in the slightest. It was, more than likely, her fault for not paying attention to the route, distracted as she’d been by the aftermath of the deed. They’d still blame her for it. She was already blaming herself.

  In truth, she’d expected to be more fatigued. Where she’d thought horror and self-loathing would’ve burned her out, she was only numb instead. Were she to collapse in the streets of a foreign city, she might not have realized she was off her feet at all. She was floating amongst stars she couldn’t see and drifting down paths she didn’t know. It was quiet. She had that much going for her. Faith hugged the shadows and slid into the darkness, hunting for scents of blood she herself had spilt.

  The sounds should’ve been hard to miss. Even for how she’d screamed infinitely louder, there had been plenty to deal with beforehand. It took a notable amount of time to catch anything beyond the chronic hum of streetlamps and the far-off songs of crickets. Still, she found something eventually.

  The hiding moon made tracking the hour difficult, and she had little idea how long she’d been wandering the roads of Selbright. Faith strongly, strongly doubted the Ensemble would notice her absence at all. They hardly noticed her presence, when applicable. Her numb little light could burn until dawn, if she so chose--although she’d surely pay for it on the walk back to Tacell.

  Shattering glass outright echoed up the alleyway, and it was an uncomfortable beacon. It had taken long enough to find the right place. The same shadows were present, and she could spot exactly which one she’d cowered in so recently. To step through it again was jarring.

  In a way, cloaked in yet the same darkness, she was a different Ambassador now than the girl who’d stood shaking here several hours ago. Faith still hadn’t processed the change. The thought only numbed her further, and she could hardly feel more than the viola case jostling against her back.

  It wasn’t as though the tavern would’ve changed in that amount of time. Part of her was somewhat convinced she was dreaming, still in denial of the blood that painted her hands. For a moment, she did little more than stare from the dark and soak in the shouts. The longer she waited, the more she overheard.

  If she watched those who went in, sparse as they were, she could steep in disgust. If her eyes tracked those who left, vile as could be, she could lose her hope for mankind. She was beginning to see why the Ensemble had chosen here, of all places. It didn’t necessarily make murder any more reasonable.

  Jadareverie’s case hit the ground anyway.

  Faith drew the viola into her arms gently, straightening up with her gaze cast to the establishment alone. She couldn’t quite bring herself to settle the instrument into position, nudging the case deeper into the shadows with her foot. She waited, mostly, chasing every passing patron with judgmental eyes alone.

  What are you doing?

  Telling Jasse wouldn’t make a difference. The odds of earning support were less than the odds of garnering reproach. It was her fault for shirking true guidance. They were already in this deep. Faith did what she could to ignore her voice altogether, her heartbeat surprisingly calm.

  If she spared the effort to trace the cold ground with her eyes, she wondered if she’d find any sign of a sickening man that she’d burned alive before. There were, in fact, scorch marks to her right. They were prominent, so much so that she was curious if anyone had noticed. Inebriated as the patrons typically were, Faith doubted it.

  Streaks of red had curdled into something brown, and it was the closest she got to true remains. They’d done the hard part. They’d done it four times over, after all. She doubted she’d ever stop wondering where his body--what was left, at least--had ended up. For her own peace of mind, she liked to imagine River would’ve been gentle with it.

  She was being more picky than she needed to be, probably. Even now, Faith was doubting herself. This was, without question, a poor idea. It was her idea, if nothing else, and it was hers alone to accept or reject. If she went back to the inn now, she could find greater inspiration outside of the clutches of impulse.

  The sun would be a plus, and daylight would burst through her darker thoughts. As it was now, she’d plunged into those that were more than reprehensible. They were thoughts of the Ambassador, maybe. It was the least Faith could do to peer down into their depths.

  The next patron that surrendered the debauchery at their back sufficed. The door swinging shut was her cue, and she resolved to take what she’d been offered. It was a woman, for once, still equally abrasive and equally questionable. To judge the worth of a person at first glance was nearly impossible, and yet Faith tried her best regardless.

  She was heavily intoxicated, if her aggravated speech meant anything. Given the locale, it made sense. She lacked visual tells of a life poorly-lived, for whatever that would’ve consisted of. Faith strongly doubted every scar would’ve told the same story as her untimely victim, anyway.

  The Ensemble had verified the worth of each one--extensively. She’d be shooting in the dark, both literally and figuratively. It was all she could do to trust in their insistence of the uselessness of the building, and the clientele by proxy. Where the woman made for a narrow pathway with staggering steps, Faith trailed in every sneaking shadow she could find.

  Faith, I ask again, what are you doing?

  She moved with caution, softening her footsteps as much as was possible. Intoxicated as the woman was, Faith doubted she’d be heard in the first place. She wandered, and Faith followed. The further she drifted into draping darkness, crunched between alleyways and high-rising walls, the better.

  Faith.

  The tavern grew ever more distant, and the ambience of impurity was left behind in turn. The woman never turned around, and Faith never stilled her slow pursuit. She leveled her shaky breaths as best as she could. Just as slowly, a viola rose to her shoulder.

  Faith--

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  “Be quiet,” she murmured, her voice trembling.

  She didn’t have backup. She didn’t have songs that could bind, nor hands that could guide. She didn’t have those that could conceal the damage, once the deed was done. From the first ruthless note, she’d be on her own. This still might not have been correct, ultimately. It was their fault for pointing her in this direction. It was their fault for asking so much of the Ambassador.

  Faith leveled the bow with the strings, sliding one foot back slightly. At the very least, she knew it was possible, now. So, too, did she know exactly how to do it. She inhaled, she exhaled, and she offered a silent prayer that her choice of target was justified.

  The woman didn’t flee, whether from a scorching song or otherwise. To escape the screeching cries of Jadareverie would’ve been a futile enough effort on its own. Erupting starlight would’ve pursued twice as fast and twice as vividly, balls of brilliance leaving streaking afterimages in their wake. Faith brought galaxies to life and tore comets apart, her starry sky climbing high along the walls and crashing down onto one woman alone. She never made it to screaming. Faith saw to that much, and speedy wrists wove a melody that outran pleas for mercy.

  Searing rain hailed down from above, stinging and scathing all it could touch. Compromised as she’d been the first time, Faith had never bothered watching the process. It was just as grotesque as she’d imagined it would be, and it was probably a bad idea to watch it at all. Sparks kissed skin, and skin surrendered with ease. She’d never quite considered how fragile a person was beneath the wrath of a heart of light, run through like fragile paper once more.

  Yet again, beige gave way to red, and red ate through all it could claim. If Faith blinked hard enough, she could stop registering the woman as a person at all. She felt bad about it. It wasn’t intentional. The way by which surging light beat her down and swallowed her whole was simply too ethereal to process otherwise. Faith wondered what senses went first, and what senses went last. She wondered what senses were left, at this point. She wondered if it hurt. She wondered why she had to wonder that part at all.

  Faith, what is this?

  Jasse never told her to stop. The shock in her voice was all that was different, and it was far from a deterrent. She’d already gone this far, and she had no intents to back out. To do so would’ve been cruel, anyway. From here, it was again impossible to gauge whether or not the woman was still alive. Faith’s heart was pounding, and her song was intolerably loud in her own ears. Still, there came no screams, whether from herself or otherwise. With hands already impure, to dirty them for a second time warranted no panic. It was a thought as disgusting as it was true.

  Her Muse be damned, there was no one to physically stop her, just the same. Cessation would come on her own terms, once she saw fit to halt her infernal song. There was no movement. There was no resistance. Things were sloughing, again, and things were collapsing beneath the hellish heat of the sun. If she could melt everything into the ground below, she would.

  It might’ve been necessary. There was still a body to contend with, and Faith had no one to cover it up--isolated in the dark or not. She was most definitely staring, now, and she could no longer overlap the immolated woman with a human being. River would hate her. River would appreciate her. All of them would, maybe. Her own hands had long since surrendered, and an Ambassador had taken hold of the viola in her stead.

  She could burn it to ashes. She burned bright enough for that. If she didn’t, she’d push herself until she could. She was used to bleeding down scorching strings for more pitiful causes. Faith gritted her teeth and debated all at once. Her actions won, impulsive as they were.

  Again, the Ambassador beat her to it, blessing the supernova that erupted from her blood. Every shattered star grew hotter, hotter, hotter still. From here, the heat was almost painful. With certainty, the woman--what was left of her, at least--wasn't alive. Impossibly bright as her rupturing solar storm was, Faith didn’t look away for a moment.

  She lost track of how long it took. She never quite made it to ashes. She got close enough, and what remained was completely unidentifiable as human remains. She knew. That was unsettling enough.

  Viscera was there, if she squinted. She’d annihilated the ground this time, pelted with splattered starlight and blackened in excess. The sizzling clump she was left with had been a person, once. She’d shuddered, screamed, and sobbed over the same so recently. Now, as her melody trailed to a slow halt, shaking was as far as she got. Faith couldn’t help but stare. That was a constant.

  Jadareverie slipped from her shoulder, gripped tightly in trembling hands as either portion fell to her sides. What rippling heat still rode the evening breeze carried far, and it grazed her cheeks in the sickest way. It came with scents. It was awful.

  Faith Rafay, your toll has been paid twice over.

  It came with that, too. She’d forgotten altogether.

  Her breaths grew equally as shaky as her hands. She didn’t dare speak. Jasse would, eventually, and she awaited the inevitable. For now, Faith stared yet more, and she cowered behind the Ambassador who would fight on her behalf.

  Why did you do it?

  She couldn’t answer, for a moment. The act of forming words was nearly beyond her. It was someone else entirely who cobbled them together, weak as they were. “I…wanted to be stronger,” Faith whispered.

  And this is the path you have chosen?

  Jasse sounded more astonished than judgmental, in truth. Were it truly the former, it might’ve been satisfying. “I didn’t…panic this time. I didn’t hesitate. I did it by myself.”

  You have taken a life.

  It was a statement. It still wasn’t judgmental. If she’d meant it to be, it didn’t come off that way. It didn’t hurt. “Yes.”

  And that does not faze you?

  It should’ve, probably. Faith wondered at what point the Ensemble had grown numb. If Francisco’s callous dismissal of her terror had been anything to go by, then she’d surely done the world a favor. “I don’t…know.”

  Jasse didn’t push. Faith was grateful. She was left to stare at what was once a person, still more than mutilated and more than irreparable. Isolated and shrouded in darkness as they were, it would take time for someone to find what was left. She still doubted it’d be recognizable as a corpse to begin with. Leaving it was a risk. She might not have had other options. Given what parts of it still audibly sizzled, Faith feared touching it would scorch her hands, anyway. It was an odd time to take pride in her powerful light.

  She cast her eyes high to the useless sky above, still devoid of guidance towards paths better traveled. She’d been shirking enough guidance as it was, tonight. The idea of turning her back on stars not her own almost felt empowering. She couldn’t gauge the hour. In truth, she didn’t care. She was afloat for another reason entirely.

  Following the sounds back wouldn’t be hard. Faith doubted she’d miss them, and she was growing used to shadows stained by light. There was plenty of room. She had plenty of time. She could do it faster, maybe. She could do it with less effort. There were, with certainty, ways to improve.

  Faith tore her gaze from invisible stars and offered her grip to Jadareverie. Already, the blood of an Ambassador was aching. For once in her life, something was easier to crack than an Apex’s ice.

  “Did you get any sleep?”

  It probably showed.

  River’s concern would’ve been preferable. From Briar, it meant less. Faith probably should’ve appreciated the gesture. “I-I’m alright.”

  “You don’t look too good,” Francisco pressed, his hands still more than occupied with his own tangled laces.

  She could understand why. Around him, in particular, her words were fragile. She wove them with care, and they held the truth regardless. “I’ll be fine. I’ve just got…a lot on my mind.”

  Faith Rafay, your toll has been paid thrice over.

  That was an understatement.

  River tugged the straps of Renegadria’s case onto his back with mild effort. “Are you going to be okay to walk today? It’s a long trip. We can rest along the way, if you need to. Don’t be afraid to speak up.”

  She could’ve sworn he was being kinder. He might’ve been the same as always. Faith couldn’t tell for sure. Either way, his concern was warm in the midst of her fatigue. Ideally, she wouldn’t need it, provided she could get him to accept her rationale. He’d given her enough of an excuse of his own accord.

  Faith Rafay, your toll has been paid four times over.

  “Actually, I…” she began, trailing off so soon after.

  Four sets of eyes drifted to her, already near to the threshold of the door as they were. One was more gentle than the rest. Faith clung to it. “I’m…I honestly didn’t sleep at all. If I go today, I’m worried I might not make it. I don’t want to hold everyone up. You all can go without me.”

  River’s face softened. It was a relief. “I can pay for you to stay here for another night or so. It’s no trouble at all.”

  Her heart skipped and her stomach lurched in tandem. “N-No, you don’t have to waste your money on me. I can pay for myself.”

  River only smiled. “It’s perfectly alright. We brought you here, after all. It’s only fair.”

  As to whether or not he was repaying her for a deed done by force, Faith wasn’t sure. It was a questionable prize. Once more, he had leverage, and it was as frustrating as it was a relief. The blood on their hands was mutual. Her comfort was his to earn back, if not her trust. The idea of it making him squirm felt good, feasible or not.

  Five times over.

  She had more blood on her hands than he did, for sure.

  “Briar and Mint are staying for a few more days. You can go back with them when they’re done, if you’d like. I’d feel better if I knew you were with someone. Could I ask you not to make the walk to Tacell by yourself?”

  The pendulum of freedom and control was disgustingly unstable again. She blamed his spirit, as always. Even for him, the words were bold. Faith didn’t have the energy to call him on it, even as venom stung her lips.

  Six times over.

  “I just want you to be safe.”

  She was precious, after all. Constricting words were made fragile. Faith wondered if the Ambassador hated him more than she did.

  Seven times over.

  That was as far as she’d made it. She’d had to switch to another locale, at some point, for how she’d run out of safe darkness in which to hide her sins. She liked to imagine she was a decent judge of character. She liked to imagine those who held their heads high at so late an hour had little good reason to do so.

  “Yes,” she murmured, clenching the hem of her dress. “I…yes. I’ll…go back with them.”

  River beamed. She liked it. She loathed it. “Thank you. It makes me feel better to know.”

  She wasn’t lying about needing sleep. She really, truly was exhausted. Her wrathful stars had taken all she’d have to give, although Faith could’ve sworn they’d burned brighter than ever before by sunrise. In a way, it worked out, by which a sun far more natural would serve to recharge the sun born in her veins. What time she’d earned would surely suffice.

  Jasse still, even now, hadn’t told her to stop. Faith hadn’t garnered one word of reproach, nor any words beyond confirmation of each stolen life. She hoped the Muse watched every move she made and heard every melody she birthed. If there was a line to be drawn, Faith had no idea where it fell. She’d let the Ambassador figure it out.

  Returning to ice was miserable. She didn’t look forward to it. The sickest thrill of success by her own hand was difficult to come down from, and two days left her almost lonely by the end. Granted, the Ambassador was a comfortable companion, guiding hands once marred by a spirit of wind. The voice that had come to whisper words of confident wisdom in her head was louder than Jasse. Jasse still barely spoke to begin with.

  It was the first time in weeks she’d faced a dawn in Tacell with her head held high, whether or not her soul circled somewhere lower. At this point, Faith wondered if she’d ever pull it out of there. If she went to Hell when she died, she wouldn’t be surprised. Given the care she’d taken to etch the route to Selbright into her head this time, it was becoming ever more likely.

  Twelve times over.

  Faith was more disoriented than anything. Most of their words were underwater. She was definitely being spoken to, and she only sparsely processed her own answers. Sometimes, she didn’t register that her lips were moving. Jasse wasn’t an Apex by any means. She had half a mind to wonder if this was how it felt, by which her world blurred as the Ambassador had her way.

  Seventeen times over.

  “Are you sure you’re up for this today?”

  Faith’s eyes snapped to Briar’s at last, his own touched by concern. She blinked heavily. “I’m okay. I’m alright. I’m fine.”

  Twenty times over.

  “Are you alright with doing the same thing as usual?” he asked.

  She didn’t remember nodding. It was probably the Ambassador. “That’s fine with me. We can do that.”

  He nodded in return, his hands making for the case of the cello. Faith, too, slid Jadareverie’s case into her arms, flipping what locks she could as she balanced the viola’s home carefully. Even now, she was still somewhat concerned with Jasse’s silence. It had surpassed relieving. It was starting to get annoying. She didn’t particularly desire pushback, and praise would’ve been divine. At this point, anything would’ve been satisfactory.

  Jasse, she pried within.

  The Muse was silent. Faith sighed.

  Briar steadied Panacea Pure upright, resting the body of the cello against one leg patiently. Expectant eyes fell to her, as was always the case. Faith settled the viola’s home snugly into the grass, grasping either portion of the instrument tightly.

  Jasse, she pushed again, somewhat more assertive.

  Again, she earned nothing.

  “Take your time,” River called. “There’s no rush.”

  “I know,” Faith called back, unable to bite back the tiniest hint of annoyance in her tone. For once, it wasn’t for him.

  Why do you keep ignoring me? she asked. If you’re mad at me, just tell me.

  Jasse had enough reason to be, granted.

  Twenty-three times over.

  Twenty-four times over.

  Twenty-five times over.

  “Whenever you’re ready,” Briar offered.

  “I know,” Faith repeated. Jadareverie rose into position in time with receding footsteps, and she claimed what gap she’d need for sailing stars.

  I did it for you. I did all of it for you. You wouldn’t tell me what else to do, so I did what I had to. It’s what everyone wanted. If you don’t like that, then say something.

  She was supposed to give him the signal for shining blue, primed for her radiant assault. Instead, all she could do was burn inside instead.

  Say something, Faith challenged.

  Silence was devastating. She was shaking. If her heart could scream, it would’ve.

  I said say something, damn it!

  Something else burned. Faith couldn’t pinpoint it, nor could she give it a name. It was urgent, clinging, irresistible. Her hands were a magnet for what she already held, and she wondered if they’d melt onto the strings soon enough. Briar wasn’t immune to the same, although the look on his face was far more confused. She hadn’t, by any means, surrendered her anger.

  There was no reason for Sunstryke. There was no reason for Valiant Kiss. There was no reason for Renegadria--not yet, anyway. Every case hit the grass with a thud, and trembling hands came to cradle partners so much more beloved than her own. Disoriented gazes were exchanged, as were splattered words of befuddlement. Faith was still coming down from her ire. It was still settling in on her end, just the same.

  The Ensemble came to watch her at last, motionless as she was with Jadareverie in position. Part of her feared moving, although she had no idea as to why. It was River alone who called for her, soft as his curious voice was. He never made it far.

  “Faith? Is this--”

  The sparkling bursts of brilliance that besieged her gaze fivefold were intolerable. She squeezed her eyes shut, flinching in the face of what iridescent splendor exploded into the meadow. From beneath humble sunshine, a rainbow was born, breaching her eyelids and stinging her soul.

  Her fingers were cold. Her light was absent. Faith kept her eyes shut, lest her pupils be left to burn in the face of erupting color. It took time for the blinding flashes to settle, consecutive as they’d come. It took longer for her to witness them, and yet longer for them to sink in.

  They were gorgeous. They were inexplicable, and she didn’t hesitate to label them as “angelic” immediately. Faceless as they were, she couldn’t fully erase her fear. Radiant limbs and luminous bodies lingered above, immune to gravity altogether. To each Maestro, one clung so dearly.

  All four of them lifted their eyeless gazes high, drinking in what spilling light blessed them in return. Faith had a vague idea. She was terrified of saying it aloud, lest she be wrong. As with every last facet of her life, River stole the right from her first.

  “Are these…the Muses?” he asked, his voice trembling slightly.

  “Indeed.”

  It was a voice she’d begged for with a heart less than grateful. To hear it beyond her head was deeply unnerving, and Faith outright jumped. Her own gaze snapped over her shoulder, boring holes into the beacon of confident femininity that hovered near to her. Resisting the urge to scramble for distance was difficult, reflexive as it was.

  Briar’s eyes widened. “But…wait, wouldn’t that mean--”

  “Faith?” Francisco interrupted, pinning his heavy gaze to the Heartful Maestra.

  She was cognizant of Mint doing the same. That alone was enough to make her nauseous. The way by which yet more sank in in turn was contributing to the same. It didn’t make sense. She’d understood the process wrong, possibly.

  “I…didn’t choose that form,” Faith clarified. “I didn’t choose anything.”

  The Ensemble was quiet. Faith’s attention fell to soft golds once more. “Jasse, I didn’t…do anything.”

  “But this is your gift, right?” Francisco tried. “It has to be.”

  “Jasse, I didn’t do anything,” she repeated urgently. “You didn’t ask me anything. I thought I was supposed to choose a form, a-and I thought I--”

  “There is another.”

  Faith swallowed every word waiting to tumble from her lips. She blinked, and she stared. “Another…what?”

  Jasse paused for far too long. Not once did she offer her faceless attention in return. “An Ambassador has been chosen.”

  Faith didn’t move. Faith didn’t breathe. Faith didn’t press further, nor did she want to.

  “A…different Ambassador?” River asked.

  “Where?” Briar added.

  She didn’t recognize the voice that answered, born of cerulean and calm all the same. “We would know not. That we are here before you is the sole testament to the presence of the Ambassador, wherever they may reside.”

  “It has taken time, to say nothing else,” muttered golds far more vivid, nearly blinding in their own right.

  Francisco shook his head in disbelief. “So, wait, Faith’s not the Ambassador?”

  Twenty-six times over.

  She could always make it more. An Apex didn’t make him invincible. Faith knew what it looked like, now, at least.

  Briar contributed nothing. She didn’t expect him to. She didn’t expect any of them to do anything. “That’s…”

  They were irrelevant. They were inaudible. She’d surpassed underwater, and she was choking in a black hole. So often did the world spin fast enough to knock her out that Faith wondered if she’d soon fall off altogether. There was a voice in her head, once. There were two, actually. One was outside now. One was gone now.

  She scrambled for the latter, and it slipped through occupied fingers like melting glass. If she hunted for vestiges of whispers, they might still be there. How far they were buried was debatable. If she had to tear herself apart to find them, she would.

  Voices were discussing. Voices were debating. Voices were untangling her light without her consent, helpful as it was. Even now, she was serving them. Even now, she was special. Even now, she was meant to be taken, precious and not all at once. Faith couldn’t have peace. They couldn’t even give her that.

  River gave her his gaze, instead, gentle as she’d learned it to be. If Faith could gouge out his eyes and spare herself, she’d do so in a heartbeat. She’d gotten good at that, lately. He’d be preferable to Francisco, in that aspect. He was weak. He was frail. He was fragile. He bore no Apex, and he bore no worth in turn. In that way, she had something he didn’t.

  She had so little left to lose. What was left of her heart was all she could cling to, obliterated and scattered as it was. In time, they’d find a way to take even that. Faith knew them well enough. Given the world in which she loathed living, there would always be a new way for her light to die out.