Octavia could still remember the first night she’d cradled Stradivaria in her arms. It seemed like one thousand years ago. She didn’t believe the true span of time it had actually been, too short to be reasonable. She could still vividly recall the snowflakes that had scattered onto her bedsheets, much the same, and she would cherish that memory for the rest of her life. Octavia had hoped that she could cherish the former. She still faltered, even at the very end. It hurt.

  She didn’t want to talk to him. She didn’t have a choice.

  It was sobering to consider that they were the last of their kind in the world--and not for long. She, technically, was not, sharing her light with one and one other alone. There was no relief in the thought, nor was there jealousy. She didn’t particularly want to confront him, either. Really, her legacy had been tainted by deceit, and it was Mixoly alone she lamented losing. Octavia hadn’t spoken to Ramulus, let alone been involved with him in any capacity, since guiding the forsaken Muse. She sat somewhere squarely between fear and confidence, for how there was so little he could do to counter the Ambassador. The Lord of All needed her. That was a fact, Mixoly’s freedom be damned.

  Hey.

  Octavia couldn’t be bothered to greet him by name. If her words were tainted with disrespect, she didn’t care. Stratos was lucky she held him at all, gently aloft in her hands as he was.

  I am here.

  And for how his tone was as deceptively gentle as ever, her disdain almost felt unwarranted. Octavia swallowed the faintest thought of an apology. After all, he’d lent her his light against Faith. He could very well have declined--possibly. She’d never quite figured out how that worked. The idea of stealing it from him instead didn’t bother Octavia as much as she'd thought it would.

  What’s left?

  She’d given them three days. It had been enough. For how many times Octavia had seen the same question unspoken in their eyes, it was an obligation to ask. It was a question for the Ambassador alone to offer up.

  He awaits you, once your task is through.

  Somehow, she’d almost forgotten. She’d wanted to, so desperately. Perhaps that, too, had lingered in their eyes, and she kicked herself for being too dense to notice. I have to do that first?

  It is how it should be.

  Octavia paused, shifting uncomfortably in her seat. She felt sick, mildly. For all she’d done mentally to prepare, it was still unfathomable. It was surreal. I can’t…do it later?

  I have told you of his rationale.

  Octavia sighed heavily. Can’t he make an exception?

  He could not, then, guarantee their safe passage.

  I did all of this for him--for you guys. Can’t I just have that much?

  This is how it should be, Stratos repeated.

  She was silent for a moment. What about you, then?

  I shall accompany you.

  Octavia rolled her eyes. Of course you get special treatment.

  Do you detest me?

  It was a question she hardly knew how to answer. You lied to me. I have a feeling you’re still lying to me, even if I don’t know about what. How am I supposed to believe anything you say? How do I even know you’re telling the truth about how to do this?

  I would not lie about this.

  Because you’re already lying about other stuff, right? she argued internally.

  Octavia, I would not--

  “What are you doing?”

  She outright jumped, for how suddenly she’d been interrupted. Octavia wasn’t sure exactly what possessed her to reflexively try to conceal Stradivaria. It wasn’t as though she was necessarily doing anything worth hiding him for, simply holding him as she was.

  “N-Nothing,” she stammered.

  Viola raised an eyebrow. “You were making faces.”

  Octavia flushed. Silent arguments had visual consequences, apparently. “I-I just…sorry.”

  “Are you okay?”

  She sighed. “Honestly? Not…really.”

  Viola didn’t press. For a far longer moment than was comfortable, Octavia, too, didn’t speak. When Viola’s eyes found the carpet instead of her own, she missed them immediately. She hated their sorrow.

  “We’re going to have to do it eventually.”

  Octavia couldn’t bring herself to nod. “I know.”

  “When…do you--”

  For how long she’d awaited the question, she stuffed it back down Viola’s throat as quickly as was possible. “I’d really like to do the other one first.”

  She tilted her head. “I thought you said the last Muse had to go…well, last.”

  Octavia groaned. “I mean, that’s what Stratos said, but I really wish they’d just make an exception. I mean, I’m the Ambassador. Shouldn’t I get a say?”

  “Tell him that.”

  “Tried.”

  Viola thought for a moment. “And you can’t just bring that Muse here instead?”

  She shook her head. “I have to go to them. They’re going to call for me.”

  “What does that even entail?”

  Truthfully, she didn’t know.

  It had only happened twice--once on the cusp of death, and once more on the cusp of truth. It wasn’t voluntary, and Octavia had gathered that much already. She was almost fearful she wouldn’t get a say, falling asleep only to awaken upon that distant shoreline once more. If Stratos had his way, four obstacles would bar her path to a place she still hardly understood. Octavia could stall forever, if she wished. She would be no better than River, in that way.

  “To be honest, I don’t…actually know. I think I know where it is. I’ve been there before.”

  Viola blinked. “Been…where?”

  She hesitated to even say. Whether or not the place Rani surely awaited her constituted part of the spider web, Octavia was unsure. It was risky just to admit. To be fair, she was already in this deep. “To the place where that Muse is. He’s…somewhere special. I don’t think it’s anywhere I could travel to myself. He’s called me there before, and I’ve gotten to see it. I’ve…gotten to meet him.”

  Her eyes widened. “Wait, are we talking about the same Muse? You’ve actually met their Lord of All?”

  She nodded.

  Viola was speechless for a moment. “What was he like?”

  Octavia smirked. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

  There was something laughable in the concept of Viola reacting to the sight of Rani, knowing what rested deep within the girl’s heart. It wasn’t as though she had a heart of her own. It was a fact Octavia had mostly forgotten about until now, and it made her stomach churn to remember. It wasn’t her greatest idea to think about it again.

  “What if we went with you?”

  Octavia hesitated. “What?”

  “What if we…went to that place with you?” Viola offered, just as hesitant as she held herself tightly. “We could…do it there, and you could do what you need to do after. We could do it all at once. We’d get the chance to say goodbye.”

  The idea both warmed Octavia’s heart and made it race uncomfortably. For how Stratos had shot her down again and again, she feared pressing him.

  Is that possible?

  That place is for the Ambassador and the Ambassador alone.

  Octavia scowled. This is ridiculous. I don’t want to leave them behind, Stratos.

  It is what must be--

  “I don’t care!” she snapped.

  It was only when she saw Viola recoil at her volume that she tensed. It hadn’t been her intent to free her agitation one bit, and she flushed once again.

  “Octavia?” Viola murmured with worry.

  It was too much. For as badly as she wished to leave him behind, she gathered the violin in her arms anyway as she stormed out the front door. Her trail was aimless. Her anger was not, guided on a path to Stratos only. Keeping it in, at least verbally, was a nightmare. It followed in her shadow with every step, whether carpeted or cloaked in plush greenery tickling her boots. It challenged the cloudless sky above, blessing her with blue skies lost in the wake of her ire.

  “I’m not doing it.”

  Octavia?

  The breeze rustling her braids was of zero comfort. For how her skin burned and her blood did much the same, her insides felt hotter than the sun. It was uncontrollable, and she was lucky she wasn’t shouting.

  “I’m not going if they can’t come.”

  I have told you why.

  “I’m not friggin’ doing it!”

  Not shouting wasn’t working. It wasn’t subtle. To anyone who’d watched, whether of the Maestro world or otherwise, the sight of her screaming at a violin would’ve been baffling. She was well aware of how it looked. Octavia didn’t care, and any self-consciousness she could’ve carried was non-existent. For the way her eyes were his in turn, she stared him down with all of the rage she could muster.

  “I’m not letting Ramulus take me there if they’re not coming with me! I’m not witnessing a single one of them if they’re not by my side over there, and I’m damn sure not going blindly along with whatever you say anymore! I’m the Ambassador, damn it! You want my help so bad? You want me to wrap this up? Then either make an exception, or find a new Ambassador, because I’m not leaving here without them!”

  She was shaking. He was silent. Only the sunshine was her witness.

  “You can’t make me. You can’t make me do anything. This is my decision--this one, if nothing else. You had your turn. You’ve all had your turn pushing me around, and it’s my turn now. Either they come with me, or I quit. It’s as simple as that.”

  There was still the tiniest pang of fear that came with the threat each and every time it left Octavia’s mouth. Still, it was powerful. It was raw, weighted in a way Stratos couldn’t fight with words. She knew it to be true. It was a gamble, just as every sentence she spoke to him nowadays was.

  “Are you alright?”

  The second time around, Octavia wasn’t as startled. Her ire wasn’t localized to one interloper alone, and that had been her fault. After all, she’d been borderline screaming. For how specific her words had been, she somewhat dreaded the possibility they would gather the puzzle pieces she’d dropped carelessly in the grass. Even of those who knew of the spider web, she doubted they’d have what they needed to assemble the truth of the Ambassador. That, at least, was a relief.

  Octavia didn’t answer, content to grip Stradivaria so harshly that her fingernails dug into the mahogany. It wasn’t as though he’d bend beneath her violent grasp--although she sometimes wished he would. Her heaving shoulders and narrowed eyes did her no favors, for the subtlety she’d long since known to have evaporated.

  “Is…everything okay?” Harper asked hesitantly. “We could hear you shouting.”

  It took all that she had to conjure a deep breath and the sigh that followed. She feared for redirection of rage none of them deserved. “I don’t want to do this alone.”

  “Do what alone?” Madrigal tried.

  She hadn’t spoken of it much. It wasn’t something she could keep hidden for much longer, and she could at least pick and choose her puzzle pieces. Ramulus was a Muse, after all. They were Maestros. That much wouldn’t change.

  “I need to go somewhere. The…last Muse besides ours, he’s somewhere really specific. If I witness all of ours, he’ll call for me. It’s like I said. He has to be the last one.”

  Josiah nodded, crossing his arms. “I remember you saying as much.”

  “But Stratos wants me to go alone,” she nearly growled, “and I don’t want to. Maybe I’m being selfish, but for everything it took to get here, I wanted to see this through together. I don’t want to be the only one finishing this up.”

  “Tell him to shove it, then,” Renato offered, just a bit too harshly relative to who he was talking about. “You’re the friggin’ Ambassador, not him.”

  For how much she’d tried, she didn’t bother saying as much. Octavia didn’t have the words to disagree. She didn’t disagree with the sentiment in the first place.

  And for all she’d already discussed with Viola, the Soulful girl still tried her best to think along with her. “There’s nothing you can do to convince him?”

  Her singular threat had gone unanswered. As much as Octavia hoped it was sinking in, ideally meaningful in some capacity, she had one more idea. It wasn’t quite truly deceitful. It still felt unsettlingly dishonest, just a little bit.

  She didn’t care that they watched her cradle him in her arms, hugging his vessel tightly to her chest. She closed her eyes, embracing the sunshine that settled cautiously upon her skin. It was the only warmth she’d find. Part of her really did miss Stratos' comfort. Octavia hated to even think it, and it was an uncontrollable thought all the same.

  Please. This is…all I’m asking.

  He didn’t deserve her gentleness.

  You keep telling me how great of an Ambassador I am. You guys kept giving me all this praise and gratitude. I went as far as I possibly could for you--for all of you. I did everything I could possibly do. I can’t think of a single thing more I could give. Just this once, I want something for myself. I’m not asking for much.

  He didn’t deserve her love.

  Stradivaria, she begged, please.

  He didn’t deserve any of it, and she hoped he couldn’t feel the lies that tainted her heart. In truth, she wondered how much of it was really a lie. His once-tender alias in her head was foreign, somewhere between bitter and sweet even in passing. She held her breath, holding him close much the same.

  And you will still carry out what must be done?

  Even with Stratos' words deep within rather than without, her nod was reflexive. I’ll do whatever you want, if that’s really what it takes.

  Again, he was silent. Octavia’s heart pounded relentlessly.

  Gather them.

  It could’ve exploded. For what was to come, she couldn’t smile. It wasn’t worth beaming over, relieved as her heart felt and blessed as her soul came to be. His words were gentle to match her own. It was all she’d needed, and it was almost surprising.

  Now?

  Yes.

  That, at least, was a bit more of a surprise. She hesitated to relay his message, and she turned to them with an unintentional slowness. It occurred to her that they’d watched her converse in utter silence for a full minute, if they’d known she was conversing at all. Octavia liked to imagine that they would’ve understood.

  “He said…if you guys want to come, we have to do it now.”

  It was as she’d suspected. Granted, the shock on their faces was far more palpable than her own, exceedingly visible in every way. Octavia felt awful for pressuring them. She saw no other option, and Stratos gave her none to begin with.

  “W-We’re doing this now?” Harper stammered.

  She nodded. They hesitated. Octavia didn’t blame them.

  Viola tangled her fingers together. “I-I…we’re…guiding them while we’re there?”

  Again, she nodded. Again, they hesitated, and once more were they faultless.

  “I didn’t think we were saying goodbye today,” Madrigal murmured sadly, her voice wobbling in the slightest.

  Josiah’s hand settling onto her shoulder did little to ease her sorrow. “We would’ve had to do it at some point. It’s…going to get harder the longer we wait. They need to go.”

  Even if Octavia wanted to, she couldn’t believe in Renato’s confidence. “Then we’ll see ‘em off the right way. I’ll go.”

  He echoed.

  “I’ll go.”

  “I’ll…go.”

  “I’ll go, too.”

  It was Viola’s eyes on hers that were the softest of all. “I’ll go anywhere you go,” she said, just as soft.

  There were no tears, for as much as Octavia considered making them. It was as selfish as it was worth it, dragging them down with her one last time. She stuffed her apologies into the depths of her heart, regardless of how desperately they struggled to burst free. It ached. If she’d offered them up, anyway, she knew the responses she’d get. That, at least, was a comfort. It dulled the pain in their eyes, somewhat, and she clung to that warmth with all she could muster.

  Some of them had to gather their cases. Some didn’t, for how close they stayed to their hearts and sides at all times. Octavia awaited them with patience and anxiety alike, and they returned much the same anxieties with their gazes alone. It was surreal, once more, the way by which they were the last of their kind--soon no longer to be so.

  They’d been coincidences, and she, too, was a coincidence in both the best and worst way. There was a part of Octavia that thought to implore them to cherish their legacies for a final time, to treasure the sensation of fire on one’s lips and wind at one’s fingertips. As to whether it mattered more than the companionship that accompanied such power, she wasn’t sure. Somehow, she doubted it.

  Octavia still held the violin close, if not even more tightly than before. “How do I do this?” she whispered aloud.

  There is nothing to fear. All will be granted to you.

  He had said she’d be called for, after all. Even now, there was an inkling of fear that came with the idea that Stratos was lying yet again. If she were to arrive at that place once more alone and unaccompanied, she hadn’t quite decided how she’d react just yet. It would surely be anything but positive.

  Octavia scanned their eyes, as confused as they were splashed with suspense. She gripped his vessel all the more firmly.

  “Am I…going to be--”

  She never found her words. She couldn’t find anything. She’d never done this while conscious before, her last two voyages made in the depths of the dark--different in every way as they’d been. This time, Octavia's eyes were wide open. It was perhaps to her detriment, given the blinding radiance that besieged her pupils. It didn’t hurt as much as she’d expected it to, nor largely at all. For how used she was to going down, the odd sensation of going up was exceedingly disorienting--false or otherwise. Where she’d expected the world to go black, it went utterly white instead.

  It was the first time in weeks that she’d trusted Stratos. It was the one time that mattered. She prayed.

  Octavia braced for the sand. She braced for the salt in the air and the sting it cursed her lungs with. She braced for the roar of an ocean she’d only just begun to get used to seeing. She didn’t particularly want to brace for the waves that threatened to crash around her feet, given what had occurred on her previous voyage.

  She’d somewhat wondered, in passing, how she was to be expected to explain it to them, for as little as she still understood. Rani--Ramulus, perhaps--had explained such a mysterious place to her in turn, and she'd squandered his clarity regardless. She could pick out words. She could pick out concepts. She could recall some aspects, and she could regurgitate them in the poorest way imaginable. It was, at this point, largely impossible not to entangle them in the spider web, if they were to stand here alongside her. Octavia hoped they at least enjoyed the view.

  They never got one. She, too, had never stood here in her life, for there was nothing upon which to stand at all.

  There was a moment in which Octavia was convinced she was dreaming. It was almost the reverse of a toll, blighted by light on every side in lieu of the darkness she’d learned to embrace without resistance. Still, she could move. She could breathe. She was untethered by the thick, clouded weight that crushed her in every way as she’d stolen the eyes of stranger after stranger.

  Octavia flexed the fingers that clutched Stradivaria experimentally. The fact that she was holding him at all was a miracle in and of itself. As to what burning nostalgia bored holes in her head, she couldn’t pinpoint it. She didn’t particularly enjoy the ambiguous feeling, nor did it make sense. She’d never been here. It was impossible to “go” to nowhere itself.

  Octavia glanced at her feet, and her feet touched nothing. She grasped at the air, and her fingers touched nothing. She briefly entertained that she had died, and yet the sharp pains that accompanied her fingernails digging into her palms once more spoke to the opposite. She was almost afraid to test her voice, sure to be lost in whatever soft and indescribable sounds continuously greeted her ears.

  She couldn’t put her finger on them, gentle in a way that resonated through her heart and touched her soul. They echoed--not quite loud and not quite unwelcome--on every side, enveloping her in whatever the absolute opposite of agony was sure to sound like. Octavia couldn’t decide whether or not she enjoyed it.

  “Okay, what the hell.”

  It was a statement rather than a question. It was a relief that flooded every vein, and she breathed a heavy breath that she had no idea she’d been holding. Even crass as Renato’s reaction was, Octavia was more than grateful that her disorientation wasn't localized. She was far, far more glad that she wasn't alone.

  “What…is this?” she heard Harper murmur. It wasn’t as though Octavia had a solid answer for him.

  Their eyes on her weren’t surprising, and still she could offer them no clarity. It was with hesitant steps that she touched nothing time after time, half-expecting to fall--whether to her death or otherwise, she didn’t want to consider. “I don’t know,” she finally breathed.

  “You said you’ve…been here before?” Viola asked tentatively.

  Octavia shook her head. “Not here. Somewhere else. I…thought that’s where we were going. I don’t know where we are.”

  “It sounds pretty,” Madrigal added anyway, hugging Lyra’s Repose tightly against her chest.

  Josiah stuffed his hands into his pockets. “What is that sound supposed to be?”

  Octavia wasn’t the only one who found the drive to move forward, empty as their horizon was. It was all she could think to do, and they followed in her wake. It was aimless, almost futile, and she felt bad for leading them to believe otherwise. After all, they were here at her insistence. “I don’t know,” she repeated again.

  Harper sounded equally as hesitant as she felt. She couldn’t blame him. “Are you sure we’re in the right place?”

  It was enough to make her wince, regardless. Octavia didn’t particularly like the idea of the alternative. “I had…no say in this. This is just where we ended up. It has to be.”

  “So then…where is ‘here’?”

  And to that, she had no answer yet again. She thought to ask Stratos once more, already grasping his vessel on either side. She never made it that far.

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  “Ambassador.”

  Octavia didn’t jump. She wasn’t startled. It was the first time, frankly, that she’d kept her composure around him--her, maybe, although she still hadn’t fully decided. For how suddenly the girl had appeared in what amounted to emptiness incarnate, she’d expected to be more afraid. It had only taken three encounters to grow used to Rani, round eyes and all. Whatever panic she’d once felt upon the girl’s spontaneous appearances, then, was deflected well behind her. At least one of them screamed. It was almost enough to make her crack a smile in such a disorienting place.

  “God, what the hell?” Renato exclaimed, almost identically verbatim to before.

  Viola, by comparison, was perhaps just as stricken with confusion as Octavia had once been. The Soulful Maestra didn’t make it even one-third of the way into a full sentence. “W-What…”

  Octavia wondered how much of a problem it would start to acknowledge Rani. She wouldn’t have a choice eventually, anyway.

  “You’re…here,” she said softly.

  “And you have come,” Ramulus answered back. His deep tone through the mouth of such a small child was still just as unsettling as it had always been.

  The longer they stared, the more their confusion was almost amusing. In particular, the discrepancy of his voice versus her appearance wasn't lost on them. At this point, ten cherry oak fingers were now tangled in a mess of curls. “Oh my God, what the hell!” Renato outright cried once more. “Seriously?”

  “It’s…a little girl?” Harper asked, raising an eyebrow. Still, the way his voice was shaking more than betrayed his surprise.

  “Octavia, do you know her?” Madrigal whispered.

  Octavia nodded. “This is Rani,” she introduced vaguely. “She’s…”

  She faltered. There were two possible introductions she could go with, in truth. Neither carried a simple answer. She could always opt for both at once, although the absolute shock that would ripple through them would be impossible to mediate. She went with the easier one first.

  “She’s the Maestra for the Lord of All,” Octavia concluded.

  Viola recoiled. “She’s so young, for…who her Muse is, I suppose.”

  “Okay, but why the hell does she sound like that?” Renato asked almost desperately, gesturing wildly to the little Maestra in question. “I’m pretty sure she’s not supposed to sound like that! She’s like, what, seven?”

  It was an answer Octavia was terrified of giving. Even now, the thought was repulsive. For all it had taken to get them here, she didn’t particularly want them to get the wrong impression of Ramulus immediately. Again, she chose her words with care.

  “He’s an Apex,” Octavia started. “He’s the...Apex of Heart, remember? He can…do that.”

  It wasn’t quite enough to elicit a sigh of relief from any of them. Still, it was enough to placate them, at least temporarily. For how he addressed her instead, she was glad she’d garnered their peace in time.

  “This place was intended for the Ambassador alone,” he spoke through Rani once more.

  Octavia couldn’t tell if he was scolding her or reminding her. She didn’t care. “I won’t do this without them. They’ve gotten me this far. I wouldn’t have been able to do all of this without them, and I wanted to see this through to the end with them. I…appreciate you making an exception. Thank you.”

  She didn’t want to thank him for anything. She hadn’t fully cooled her anger from their last confrontation. Part of her anxiously awaited any mention of Mixoly. She knew he knew, for how Stratos and Jasse knew in turn--the former in particular. At the same time, Octavia was afraid to compromise the one blessing Ramulus had offered to her. Given that she wasn’t even sure where she was, she partially bit her tongue. She didn’t swallow her words enough to halt every inquiry.

  “Where are we?” she asked at last, stealing the question before another could take it from her lips. “This…isn’t where you took me last time.”

  Ramulus was quiet for a moment. “Silence.”

  She blinked. She’d heard the term in his voice at least once, and it burned not to recall the context in full. “Silence?”

  Rani nodded. “It is as I had told you at that time. That place was no true Silence. Instead, you now stand in its embrace.”

  Her eyes widened. For those tinted with complete and utter confusion behind her, everything that clicked was in stark contrast to how lost they’d become.

  “The boundary,” Octavia tried. She still wasn’t entirely sure if they were one and the same.

  When Rani nodded again, she at last had her answer. “Indeed.”

  “Wait, what?” Viola murmured, baffled.

  “Octavia, what are you talking about?” Josiah half-whispered to her.

  Still, her focus was on Rani alone. “You…made it here, then?”

  “It is not perfect. It is close.”

  It was almost a relief, a testament to her hard work. It still left six outliers, and she was well aware of that part. “Why did you bring us here?”

  Ramulus didn’t waver. “This is where I am to depart. Your final task shall be carried out from here alone. Once the deed is done, I shall close the boundary for all time, and the two realms shall converge nevermore.”

  “Dude, you have no idea how lost I am right now,” Renato muttered.

  Octavia tried her best. It was her fault for tangling them up. It was the least she could do to tear the web apart, thread by thread.

  “This is the…boundary between us and Above,” she began. “He had to rebuild it--the way to get to it, at least. Every time I guided a Muse, this is where they had to go, I think. I don’t know if they could get through without help.”

  She knew of one that couldn’t. For the life of her, Octavia kept her mouth shut. She prayed and prayed that Ramulus would do the same.

  “I’m gonna assume we can’t go in there to visit,” Harper half-joked. The discomfort in his eyes spoke to something other than any semblance of humor. Octavia didn’t try to dissect it.

  Octavia’s tentative steps closer to the little Maestra were made further unsteady with every glance into the same hollow eyes, for what she knew them to lack. Eventually, she was sure one of them would ask. She still refused to be the one to bring it up, if at all possible. She wondered if Ramulus would do her the favor himself.

  “Can I see you, then?” she asked, folding her hands neatly in front of her dress. She didn’t want to give him respect. At the same time, she didn’t dare start a problem.

  “You cannot.”

  Octavia flinched. Initially, she thought his words to be venomous, and she was tempted to respond with much the same tone. She struggled to cool the heated words that bubbled beneath her tongue. “W-Why not?” she asked simply instead.

  He was far calmer than her. “I am imperceptible to your material eyes, Ambassador. I cannot take the form you have granted to so many others. This child is all I may offer. I pray you will understand.”

  Octavia blinked. It wasn’t the worst explanation he could’ve given her, considering who he was. It was better than the hostilities she’d expected instead. “R-Right,” she stammered. “That’s…fine. Can I still…do what I need to do like this?”

  Rani nodded yet again. “It will be of no concern. We are but one and the same. You are aware of such, and I know this to be true.”

  Josiah raised an eyebrow. “Wait, what does that mean?”

  She should’ve known it would’ve been him. So much for the easy introduction. The complicated one rode on the tail end of a deep breath. “Rani is his Maestra, but Rani is also…him. She’s a…I guess you could consider her a Harmonial Instrument.”

  And, given their absolute shock, as she’d expected all along, she doubted she was going to keep the details of such a bond secret for much longer.

  “How is that even possible?” Viola cried. “She’s a human!”

  Madrigal shook her head in disbelief, her curls nearly hitting her in the face in the process. “That doesn’t make any sense. Where is she? Can we talk to her?”

  Octavia gulped. She ultimately refused. She let Ramulus do it, pleading with her horrified eyes to Rani’s own cold, dead gaze.

  “This child is not alive,” he explained, his words upon lips that couldn't form their own all the more jarring. “She perished upon her first breaths in this realm. She has no heart, and it is mine alone that rests within her. You will not find her voice, for she has none with which to speak.”

  And they, too, had none collectively, for how they stared the small child down with absolute horror. What exclamations of terror and repulsion Octavia had expected were utterly absent, filled only with silence that challenged the boundary itself.

  “She was…stillborn,” Josiah interpreted quietly. “And you…took her.”

  Rani nodded in silence of her own--eternal or otherwise.

  The boy spoke nothing more. She’d half-expected him to chide the unseen Muse, whether out of disgusted ire or otherwise. Instead, she was unsure as to whether his lack of objection was attributable to the Lord of All’s title or something more altogether. Octavia was afraid to ask. She didn’t.

  “And you…still have to go last?” she murmured hesitantly instead.

  “It is true.”

  Octavia thought to press him for another exception. In Ramulus’ defense, that condition at least made sense. “So, I have to…”

  Even as she trailed off, she knew he’d understand. Rani nodded for the thousandth time, body language speaking where she could not. “Now is the time for them to return.”

  It was with a heavy heart that she watched his words resonate amongst them. Octavia said nothing, for how their eyes said it all. They, too, were speechless, largely unmoving. She was disoriented, somewhat, given the way by which she hadn’t quite coped with the concept of making it this far. In such a disorienting place already, still beautifully empty as it was, she once again wondered when she’d wake up. For somewhere called Silence, it wasn’t very silent, and she still enjoyed the soft and mysterious sounds that she failed to describe even now. Their own silence was more than enough to compensate.

  Octavia was their executioner. She couldn’t stand to meet the eyes of a single one. She couldn't decide who to first curse with loneliness and a severed bond that burned from the inside-out. She thought to start with herself, for how little she cherished him anymore. She sighed heavily. Part of her wished she could cry.

  She rapped two fingernails against the mahogany, and the gentle glow of ivory and golds she’d once loved bloomed into starlight for one more meeting. Stratos was calm and just as quiet. Octavia was in equal measure, although likely for a different reason altogether. She wondered if he’d miss her in absolutely any capacity. She doubted it. It took her far, far too long to find her words. Ultimately, Octavia was more captivated by his silence than the final bursts of luminous hues preceding the end behind her.

  “I don’t have to guide you second-to-last or anything, right? You can just…go?”

  He was still. He was speechless.

  Octavia rolled her eyes. “You can be as angry as you want. I don’t care anymore. I really did love you once, you know. This is your own fault. In the end, we both got what we wanted, didn't we? That’s enough.”

  And still, Stratos was silent. She raised an eyebrow.

  “Be that way, then. You’re a pain in my ass right up until the end. I wish I could say I’m surprised,” she spat.

  When he continued to offer her nothing at all, Octavia resisted the urge to growl in aggravation. She didn’t want his gratitude. Even so, for all she'd done for him, any form of acknowledgement would’ve been nice.

  It broke her heart to glance backwards. She regretted doing so instantly, for how four sets of hands had filled with vessels far more beloved than her own. Their eyes carried their love and their melancholy in equal measure. Octavia envied it, somewhat. If she was to be their fearless leader, she could do them the favor of taking the first hit.

  Completed as their tolls were, it would only take words she’d grown used to feeling on her tongue ninety times over. It raised a single question she vaguely remembered the answer to, from what Stratos had told her. Still, it didn’t hurt to double-check, given that her fingers were already around his vessel regardless.

  Octavia raised her eyes to Rani instead. “You’ve already paid your toll, right?”

  Ramulus, too, only offered her silence. It was getting irritating. The way Stratos gazed down at her in utter quiet even now felt almost condescending. It suited their legacies. She didn’t bother asking twice, summoning the words that had come to reside as a reflex on her lips instead. She could taste every syllable, and she knew they’d sting the other four times she spoke them. This one would be easy.

  “I will.”

  Octavia froze. She raised her eyes from Stradivaria once more, the words she’d readied equally as halted as the fingers settling atop the violin’s scroll. Instead, she stared only at Rani, motionless and offering her nothing but the dead gaze she was growing used to.

  “I…what?” Octavia asked aloud.

  “The toll will be paid.”

  She blinked. “What do you mean ‘will’? Didn’t you…pay it already?”

  He paused. Octavia tilted her head upwards towards a different Heartful Muse entirely. “You said he paid his toll, right?”

  Stratos averted his faceless gaze. Again, it was all she could do to blink, more confused than anything.

  “What are you ignoring me for?” she finally snapped. “You’re being a jerk. At least say something to me, for everything I’ve done for you! I did all of this to--”

  “It is the Ambassador alone who will pay the toll.”

  Octavia didn’t move. For a moment, she didn’t breathe.

  “I…already paid my tolls,” she explained, her attention on Rani as she gestured towards Stratos. “Drey and Priscilla. That was enough, right? It only has to be one to--”

  “The Ambassador,” Ramulus spoke calmly, “shall serve as the final toll.”

  Octavia gazed at Rani. Rani gazed back.

  It wasn't the dead child alone whose eyes were empty, for how the Ambassador’s face drained of color. She’d misheard. She’d misunderstood. She thought once again to explain her circumstances. Given how many times she’d switched her attention between the two Heartful Muses, Octavia couldn’t help but do so once again. She swallowed her panic. She wouldn’t need it.

  “Stratos, what is he talking about? I…paid your tolls--my tolls. We’re…done, both of us. You can go. He’s talking about you, right?”

  His silence seared her heart. It was no longer aggravating. It was damning.

  “Stratos, he’s talking about my tolls, right?” Octavia asked with the panic she’d fought to suppress.

  And for how he turned away further, stealing immortal eyes she could never truly witness with her own, her vision blurred. Her head spun. Her heart dropped into her stomach, pounding relentlessly all the way down. She forgot how to breathe.

  Nowhere to which she offered her attention did her any good. The others, too, shared in her utter disbelief, visibly acting as pendulums somewhere between horror and disbelief. Not one spoke. Not one breathed. She was much the same, and she briefly wondered if there was any oxygen in Silence. She wondered if she’d remember how to use it, should she find any.

  “I don’t understand,” she finally asked of the Lord of All, her voice wavering viciously.

  Octavia couldn’t fathom his calm. “That which tethers the two realms, too, must be severed. It is in this manner that all shall be as it was. It is what must be done to perfect what I have made, and it must be such in this manner alone. There can be no other.”

  Her knees were weak. She wondered if she’d forget how to stand, shortly. She wondered why she was bothering to cling to Stradivaria at all, still aloft in her violently-trembling hands.

  “I…have to be your toll?” Octavia tried. Even now, she prayed she’d misunderstood.

  “It is so.”

  For how her blood turned to lead down to every last cell, she couldn’t move.

  “You’re…going to…”

  “I must.”

  There was an overpowering urge to fall to her knees. It took every last ounce of strength in her body, fleeting as that was, to stay on her feet. Octavia feared he’d strike her down right then and there, should she give in now. She, too, resisted the urge to make her panic vocal, to lose her breath in earnest and gasp for it all the same. She had no tears, fearful or otherwise. It was still sinking in. She could do nothing but let it, poison seeping into what was left of her iron veins.

  There had once been a place she’d gone to for comfort, and a voice that had come along with it. For every thread of the spider web that wove the empty path beneath her feet, it was the one she didn’t dare disturb. It was the one she didn’t dare tread upon. She had no other choice.

  He was turned away, even now. Octavia couldn’t resist. She could feel the world spinning already.

  “Did you…know?”

  The fleeting glance Stratos gave her was enough.

  It didn’t matter what was to come physically. It was enough to shatter her soul and kill her from the inside out.

  “You…knew.”

  She didn’t need him to nod, and he didn’t. She could imagine it all the same. The thought alone broke her in every way.

  If they were speaking, she could barely hear, underwater as she was.

  “T-That’s…”

  “She has to…die?”

  If they were pleading, she could barely understand, her heart already long since surrendered to his silent betrayal.

  “You’re friggin’ insane!”

  “Oc…tavia?”

  “I knew it.”

  The sound of steel freed upon nothingness contrasted sharply with the gentle noises that enveloped her still. Octavia could hardly bring herself to turn her head. There was exactly one person who carried the anger she couldn’t muster, as badly as she wanted to. She couldn’t decide what was sharper--the blade with which he challenged nothing at all, or the most hateful spears she’d ever seen grace his eyes.

  “I always knew something was up with all of you,” Josiah spoke, his voice low and trembling all at once. “I always knew something was off. I was right. I was always right, the whole time.”

  So was Ethel.

  “You were all lying, weren’t you? Did all of you know? Were all of you in on this?” he spat, his voice steadily rising.

  Mixoly, at least, knew of Heartful lies.

  “Stratos?”

  The voice that called for him was far from Josiah’s own. It was far from human at all.

  “Is it true?”

  Octavia had never heard such calm from Brava in her life. She knew the Willful Muse’s peaceful voice, in contrast. Still, Orleanna, too, bore the same soft disbelief.

  “You…knew what was to befall the Ambassador?” she murmured.

  For how genuine confusion tinted their words, Octavia wasn't the only one to eye them with confusion of her own. Josiah, in particular, lowered the knife helplessly to his side as he watched them admit to their ignorance. Their Maestros did much the same, and it was Stratos alone who hesitated to acknowledge them still.

  “Speak,” Mente demanded.

  “Admit to the truth, should it be so,” Aste added, their tone equally sharp.

  “Stratos,” Lyra said, far more gentle in the wake of their venom. “Please.”

  Octavia didn’t need to hold her breath. She’d already found her answer. As to how long it would take for it to crash down onto those she’d never expected to be innocent, she hardly knew. Given the dynamic they had, kin as they were, she wondered what constituted disrespect. She wondered if Stratos would’ve cared.

  For all of the time it took him to address them, Octavia doubted it. It was the first time he’d spoken since they’d reached the boundary, a voice she'd once loved annihilated by a truth she hated to swallow. Even then, he could hardly look at them, either. He’d never emoted to the same degree as the other Muses she’d met, tainted by the form she’d cursed them with and the strikingly-mortal behaviors that had followed. In his voice, for once, Octavia found something she couldn’t pinpoint. It was, unmistakably, as human as Stratos would ever get.

  “It is for the good of all.”

  She’d seen them irritated, at times. For some, she’d never quite seen their ire in full, with exceptions to be had. It was incredibly jarring. Octavia could do nothing more than watch them with wide eyes and a racing heart, still wondering why she bothered to cling to Stradivaria at all.

  “Coward!” Brava cried. “You would forsake your own?”

  “Have you not done the same?” Stratos accused softly.

  “It is not so,” Orleanna argued with a shake of her head. “Not…in this way.”

  “And yet you have done so.”

  “You would punish one who has given all?” Lyra spoke, her own voice laced with pain as she folded her luminous hands over her heart. “Stratos, we are not to interfere! Of this, I know you are aware!”

  It was Ramulus who countered her pleas. “She is no mere human. She carries the burden of two realms, be such a duty deserved or otherwise. The Ambassador cannot remain behind.”

  “Then she’ll quit being the Ambassador!”

  Octavia’s head snapped to Viola so fast that she briefly worried she’d broken her neck. It was a threat she didn’t get to make herself, viciously raised on her behalf.

  “You can’t make her be the Ambassador,” Viola hissed, her fingers long since curled into trembling fists. “She can quit. She can leave you here. Everything rides on her agreeing to do all of this for you guys. She doesn’t have to.”

  Every word from the Soulful Maestra’s mouth shook all the way out. Her body did the same, mostly. It was a righteous anger, and Octavia once more wished she could steal the same ire for herself. Instead, she was cold, graced only with the same lead that coursed through her veins and weighed her down.

  “The result would be the same.”

  Rani was calm where Viola was not. It didn’t settle--not initially.

  “Wh..what?” Viola stammered.

  “To relinquish the role,” Ramulus spoke, “is to surrender a life.”

  It was no longer lead. It was a toxin that ate her alive and scorched her skin from within.

  Octavia couldn’t count how many times she’d made the threat. She’d made it right to his--her--face. If she'd been gambling without knowing, then she’d been a piece in his game all along. If she collapsed in Silence, she wondered if that alone would be enough to kill her. It seemed anything would.

  “So, it wasn’t a choice the whole time?” Harper shouted with rage. “She would’ve died if she tried to stop?”

  Madrigal’s eyes were pricked by tears Octavia wished she could summon herself. They clung to her curls, for how rapidly she shook her head. “That’s awful!”

  “She’d have to friggin’ die either way, then?” Renato growled. “What the hell are you gonna do on the way out, witness yourself?”

  “There is no need.”

  His ire evaporated immediately, as did theirs collectively. Even Octavia was baffled, clinging to the Muse’s every word.

  “The Ambassador has lived her life through her own eyes,” Rani said, still just as calm. “She has already borne witness to the toll as is necessary. All that remains is to claim what must be taken. It is not an act of malice, nor is it done without purpose. I implore you to understand such intentions.”

  There was no counter to his argument, in truth. Octavia wondered if it would’ve flashed before her eyes again, regardless. To bear witness to her own toll was an absolutely horrifying concept. In the most morbid way, she wondered what she would find most precious and most repulsive. That alone was a deterrent. She'd far surpassed feeling ill long ago.

  “For what could be offered with the blood of the Ambassador, she need not finish the task in full. It is optional, should she truly seek reprieve.”

  The words that left Octavia’s mouth were dry, cracking on the way out. It was a miracle that she could speak at all. “What…do you mean?”

  She could hardly stand to look at the child at all anymore. It was unavoidable, and the same dead gaze drew her in every time. “The blood of the Ambassador upon my own hands is all that is necessary to guide their path. I may complete what you have begun,” Ramulus said, gesturing broadly to the Muses in wait behind her.

  At least one of them flinched. He continued, hollow eyes burning holes into her alone. “It is your choice. Guide their path and my own in their absence, or give only what is needed and spare yourself further responsibility. It is my gift to you, Ambassador.”

  It wasn’t a choice. He’d never given her a choice in all of the time Octavia had known him, to be fair. It was far from a gift, for how he'd promised her death either way. In Silence as she was, surrounded by nothing conceivable in every direction, there would be no escape, should she try. If she ran, regardless, Octavia wondered if Ramulus would outright strike her down in the midst of her fear. It didn’t make the idea of dying with grace any more tolerable. She didn’t want to die at all. She’d done that enough.

  Octavia glanced at Stratos once more. He’d found the drive to glance back. It wasn’t a consolation. Instead, it ached in every way. She found her tears, bitter and burning as they slipped down her cheeks. She couldn’t decide whether she despised him or missed him.

  Renato narrowed his eyes, already raising either portion of Mistral Asunder aloft. “Like hell we’re gonna let you--”

  The hollow chill of Rani’s gaze stung him in turn, for once. He, too, froze. “Interfere, and you will meet the same fate.”

  “Please, don’t!” Octavia pleaded desperately, choking on sobs she wasn’t aware had bubbled up in her throat. “Leave them alone! I’ll do anything!”

  “Octavia, don’t do it!” Harper cried. “Don’t worry about us!”

  Still, she shook her head. Even now, for all he’d done to her, she gripped Stradivaria tightly. “Please, please don’t hurt them! I’m begging you!” she cried.

  Rani was silent for a moment, returning the eyes she hated. “Make your choice, Ambassador. Either will suffice. Know that death will be swift and painless. You shall not suffer, and I shall see that it is so. Do not be afraid.”

  “Octavia, don’t do this,” Josiah pleaded, his voice trembling as he shook his head slowly.

  “If I…go first, you’ll have time to say goodbye, right?” Octavia murmured, well aware she was within their earshot. “All of you.”

  “Octavia, why are you even entertaining this idiot?” Renato snapped, gesturing to the little Maestra. “Screw this! Don’t listen to him!”

  “It is for our mutual cause,” Ramulus reminded softly. “All will be as it was.”

  So often did Octavia forget. At the foot of the boundary, of all places, she'd yet again forgotten why she stood there to begin with.

  She glanced at Viola. It hurt as much as it helped. It was the beloved girl’s greatest wish, ambitious as it had been. It was all that she'd desired for so long. To rob her, if no one else, of relief from a world plagued by agony was cruel. It was sick, how often every fleeting memory of suffering given form had been divorced from that which Octavia held fast to even now.

  It was a trade. It was the only trade left to make. Even if it wasn’t a choice, it was for a reason.

  “Promise me,” Octavia breathed, “that you won’t hurt them.”

  Rani nodded. “The deed will be done not long after, and they will return to whence they have come. So long as they do not interfere, I will see that it is so.”

  “Promise me.”

  “My word is true.”

  Acceptance was irrelevant. Her tears would surely flow forever and follow her to Heaven. Octavia didn’t bother smiling for them, and they didn’t bother offering her the same.

  “Octavia, please!”

  “Don’t!”

  “Octavia, seriously, don’t!”

  “It’s not worth it!”

  She’d miss the sea. Even burdened by tears that far outpaced her own, it was eternally beautiful as it shimmered. Octavia couldn’t bring herself to look away. She endeavored to take the girl's face with her, if nothing else.

  “Octavia,” Viola begged, her voice cracking. “Please don’t do this.”

  She knew that when she opened her mouth, her voice would be blighted with the same. Octavia couldn’t help it. “This is…how we get rid of the Dissonance. This is how we get everything back to normal. This is what we did everything for.”

  “Not for this!” Viola cried, shaking her head desperately.

  “It’s for everyone,” Octavia said, her wavering words be damned. “No one will ever be hurt by it again. The world will be back to…how it’s supposed to be.”

  “There has to be another way,” Viola sobbed.

  Octavia shook her head instead. “I think…this is the only way.”

  “Octavia, I don’t want this,” Viola wept bitterly. “I never wanted this.”

  “I don’t want this, either,” Octavia admitted with a sob of her own. “I wanted to spend more time with everyone. I wanted to do so much together after everything was over. I don’t want it to be like this.”

  “Then why?”

  “Because it’s what--”

  “Forget Priscilla!” Viola screamed.

  “Because it’s what only I can do.”

  Viola’s eyes widened. Octavia didn’t bother wiping away the tears that dropped steadily onto Stradivaria.

  “It’s not just for them. It’s for us, too. I’m the Ambassador. Even if I don’t want to die, this is how I can fix everything. This is the power I have. It’s for Selena, it’s for Ivy, it’s for Mina, it’s for everyone in Velrose and Velpyre together. It’s…for your father. It’s for so many other people, too. You…haven’t seen what I’ve seen. It wasn’t every time I witnessed a toll, but it was a lot. It’s not just Priscilla,” Octavia insisted.

  Even so, graced with the thought of the tints of autumn once more, she did all that she could to smile through her tears. “I’m gonna see her again,” Octavia sobbed through the faintest of smiles, her voice cracking fiercely. “I’m finally gonna get to see her.”

  “Octavia,” Viola sobbed right back.

  She fought to hold her smile, wobbling and compromised, as she raised her eyes to them collectively. They, too, were just as burdened by tears. It was contagious in every way.

  “I love you guys,” she struggled to speak clearly, her voice cracking once more even now. “I love all of you so much. I…never would’ve made it this far without all of you. Please be happy. Please…live happily. It’d be nice if you guys stayed together. You’re all amazing, and I…love every single one of you with all of my heart. Please be safe.”

  They didn’t plead. They didn’t beg. There was no deterrent to be had, for how the Ambassador had backed down in the face of their desperate persuasion time after time. For all of the calm and peace she’d struggled to scrape together, leaving them at her back was the most difficult thing she’d ever done. Dying would, undoubtedly, be the easy part.

  “Octavia.”

  And as she fell to her knees gently, laying his vessel before her like an offering she hesitated to make, his voice was a blessing and a curse alike.

  “I’m…so sorry,” Stratos murmured.

  Octavia didn’t need to see him, above her as she knew him to be. She hoped he’d watch all the way through. Part of her embraced the thought almost sadistically, praying he endured her pain as retribution for his betrayal. Part of her hoped he would grace her sacrifice with the honor she wished he’d surrender. Part of her simply wanted his companionship. All three felt wrong. All three felt right. She sighed.

  “I forgive you,” she whispered tearfully.

  She debated facing death with her eyes opened or closed. So many times had she been forced into the latter that it felt like an almost natural reflex. At the very least, for what little she remembered of Rani’s prowess, the methodology would surely be beautiful.

  “You are befitting of the title of Ambassador,” Ramulus spoke gently. “Your dedication to a cause not your own to resolve is nothing short of admirable. You have committed no sin, and your heart is pure. You are innocent to our faults. Know that your passing will be remembered for all time, and honored much the same. Take pride in your heart, Ambassador.”

  There was no pride to be found among her legacy. There was no love. His words were empty.

  She’d heard the song once before, in one of her darkest hours.

  For how often Octavia had come to consider Ramulus and Rani one and the same, the thought of the girl herself as a Harmonial Instrument slipped from her mind again and again. Only in passing did she recall the fact. Now, instead, it was nostalgia that jogged her memory. It was incomprehensible, a voice far more sonorous and resplendent than Ramulus’ own. It was, too, significantly more appropriate for the Maestra’s appearance, youthful and feminine as she was.

  As to what wordless melody left her mouth, any meaning to be grasped from such a song was unclear. In the wake of her light, she was an angel. It practically spilled from her pores, so similarly to how Octavia had often felt beneath Stratos’ touch. In truth, Rani teetered almost between what Octavia would consider angelic and outright divine. She couldn’t quite decide. She couldn’t look away.

  It flowed in earnest in a way she’d never seen--although, to be fair, she’d never fathomed the concept of a human as a Harmonial Instrument at all. Every heavenly note that escaped Rani's lips brought radiance to much the same fingertips Octavia was used to, devoid of a bow or a violin to endure such brilliant prowess. For how often they’d been told time and time again that Muses and gods weren't one and the same, never had she believed the sentiment less. The child that stood before her, hands pulsing with luminescence she’d only found upon strings and breaths, was nothing short of a goddess.

  It was a spectacular display. It was almost calming, and she somewhat regretted the same reflex to close her eyes. Octavia couldn’t help it--death, too, was a reflex.

  She didn’t want to see it coming. She knew her eyelids would, regardless, sure to be blighted by the very rays of Heaven that would claim her shortly. Rani hardly needed to sing louder. She did anyway. Octavia wondered exactly how much luminescence it would take to strike her down in one blow--painlessly, at that. Ramulus was far from Faith, for what she’d done to Josiah. He was their Lord of All, and this was all she could trust in.

  And as she embraced Rani’s every gentle note, surrendering to the thought of what was to come, there was almost a curiosity that followed. She’d always wondered what it would be like to grow closer to Selena. Sonata, too, would’ve been of interest, should she be willing to doff the mask of the acolyte. Even Cadence, of all people, she would enjoy the chance to have a fresh start with.

  To meet Lucian at last would be a dream, and she would surely embrace him tightly, never to let go as she showered him with the love he’d deserved. She could tell Mina’s mother of her daughter’s flirtatious tendencies and spectacular bravery. She could tell Harper’s parents of the incredible son, forged in kindness incarnate, that he had become in their honor.

  Above all else, Priscilla would await her with a smile she’d burned into her mind so many years ago, and perhaps a laugh she’d pleaded with everything in her soul to hear again someday. Priscilla would await her with open arms and love she’d long thought lost to time. Priscilla would await her with everything her heart had room to give and take, and she would be blessed. She would have her peace. For what Viola had wanted all along, Octavia, too, would get her wish. It wasn’t enough to smile. She got close enough.

  She wondered if she'd ever made it to 15,000. For the last time, Octavia embraced death.