“You would turn him against me.”

  She wanted Ramulus out of her universe.

  “What are you doing?”

  She wanted them silent.

  “Octavia, what are you doing?”

  She wanted Stratos' love to herself, selfish as she knew the plea to be.

  How do we do this?

  I will be at your side.

  It was all she could ask for.

  Rani’s eyes had never settled, still ablaze with judgmental luminescence. Even now, the little angel of death before her awaited her next move with utter patience and stilled fingers. “He, too, has not acted out of malice, Ambassador. If he has earned your rage, such is reasonable all the same. Still, you would embrace him?”

  Octavia met her chilling, radiant gaze with all of the resolution she could muster. “He’s my partner. I love him, and he loves me back. Nothing you say is going to change that.”

  “Such love is false.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “I, who have brought him to being, know it to be true.”

  It is that which shall be his downfall.

  Octavia’s eyes flickered upwards. Now, still, Stratos was patient above her. How he found the drive to stare down the Lord of All, bound to such a little body as he was, was admirable. She settled her fingers into position hesitantly. What do you mean?

  What he has given, he may freely take yet again. All that I am is no exception. His threats are far from hollow, and that with which he would seek to strike you down would suffice.

  She didn’t want to do this. She so desperately did not want to do this. Even braced against the empty world below her feet as she was, the bow resting atop the strings once more, it was all she could do to battle the tears that threatened her vision. What do you want me to do?

  You will have but one opportunity. Your actions must be swift and subsequent. You must not waver, even for a moment. Hesitate, and you will lose your life.

  For as much as Octavia tried to steady her fingers around the bow, she couldn’t fight the way they trembled regardless. Explain.

  It will be rapid, by which neither your companions nor my Lord could intervene so quickly. Your execution must be threefold.

  She held her breath, clinging to his every word for dear life. She cherished each soft syllable of his voice while she still had it, soaking up what love and attention he could give her even in the midst of the situation. She needed all that she could get. She wouldn’t let a drop of it go to waste.

  You will advance, and know all along that I shall be with you. When the time is right, I shall return that which he has given. In that moment, you cannot waver.

  “I don’t want to,” Octavia pleaded, her voice cracking aloud.

  You must. All that I do, Octavia, I do to atone.

  She shook her head, oblivious to the eyes on her. “You don’t need to.”

  I do so out of love, much the same.

  Octavia bit her lip, trembling as it was. The rest of her was beginning to follow suit, much to her dismay.

  Swear that you will be strong.

  She could hardly summon more than a whisper. “Stradivaria--”

  For me.

  Octavia fought to swallow the sob she could feel surging in her throat. It was a trial, although not even slightly as much as what was to come. I swear.

  Stratos paused. His peace did nothing to stem her tears, despite the way they threatened to destroy her crumb of focus. Only his voice was a distraction, as it had always been. You will have the briefest opportunity by which to bear witness to the toll. Once more, you must be swift and unyielding.

  Whose toll will it be?

  By possession, his. By that which you will witness, my own.

  Octavia blinked heavily, squeezing what sorrowful tears she could out of her eyes as best as was possible. Are you comfortable with that?

  There is no heart that could exist with which I would rather share my burdens.

  And that, too, did little to ease much the same sorrow. He wasn’t making it easy.

  And…you said three things, right?

  Octavia didn’t need to see him nod. She could imagine it, whether wordlessly or outwardly. At this point, their quiet was surely suspicious, and the way by which Rani’s radiant glare somehow seemed to sharpen was extremely concerning. For how malleable she knew the spider web to be, whether within the borderless borders of Silence or otherwise, Octavia had half a mind to wonder if her thoughts weren't truly private. It was a chilling concept, and she feared her time to strategize was running out. She feared the way by which she could treasure Stratos' love, too, was jeopardized all the same.

  In the wake of the Witnessing, you must guide him across the boundary. Your safety will be ensured, and he will be granted his return. For what freedom you would surely grant to those who remain, I have no doubt that the ninety-five will reconvene in full. Even should his wish not be as expected, perhaps you may yet achieve your world of purity. Such is his obligation, for the perfect realm he so longed to craft. There are none who would be content with his resistance.

  It was supposed to be ninety-six, she thought, her heart aching fiercely.

  In a manner of speaking, it is. You have seen to that.

  Ninety-six that made it there. Aren’t you afraid? What’ll happen to you?

  That which would befall you in my stead, I would suppose. It is without precedent. Still, should you have my heart in those final moments, I would hold no fear.

  Octavia had him, ultimately. She refused to let him go, gripping the neck of the violin ever tighter.

  “For what reason do you hesitate, Ambassador? For what reason do you alone raise his vessel against me?” Ramulus spoke calmly.

  Octavia was silent. She was shaking. Still, she slid one foot forward and adjusted the bow as was necessary. She didn’t grace him with an answer in words alone, content to offer Rani only whatever resolution she could spill into her tearful eyes.

  “Octavia, what the hell are you doing?”

  “Stop it!”

  “Knock it off!”

  They were irrelevant, desperate and pleading as they were. She didn’t so much as spare them an ounce of attention.

  “That you would resist until your dying breath is nearly admirable,” Ramulus offered quietly. “I will honor your valor. If you would come, Ambassador, then come. If the knowledge of true resistance would ease your heart in passing, I will see to it that your painless death is befitting of your courage.”

  Octavia had never once thought that her running speed would serve to save her life at the very border of two worlds, so unlike one another. She lowered her body and raised her head. She steadied her breath as best as she could. She channeled every ounce of love she could muster and pleaded with him for one final time, the words burning as they left her tongue.

  “Give me everything you have,” Octavia whispered.

  And you will forever have my heart.

  Her fingers were explosive, her blood much the same as Stratos' scathing love bubbled and boiled beneath her skin. She, too, was just as explosive, pushing off hard against the nothingness below as she sprinted with all that she had. Octavia played for her life, utterly indifferent to the cries and screams of those resisting her actions behind her. Every pounding footstep, inaudible as she knew them to be, was in stark contrast to the Heartful songs that crashed together beautifully in the air.

  The indecipherable melody that poured from Rani’s lips once more blessed her waiting hands in turn, pulsing and radiating with a predictable brilliance that Octavia couldn’t hope to avoid head-on. She wondered if she’d be besieged with the same searing sea, cursed with waves of radiance that would surely counter her own. Still, she ran, every frantic note bringing his own loving luminescence bursting from her skin onto the strings. Each fierce slash of the bow brought with it the blinding, white-hot rays of wrath she knew would escape her shortly, and she relished the sensation of the stars Stratos blessed her veins with while she had it to herself.

  What she had to offer was of debatable prowess, for how the broiling suns and pulsating stars that erupted from Rani’s own touch erupted towards her at inescapable speeds. Every subtle motion of her wrists was a loaded threat, every movement of her arms in turn an equal death sentence. Her merciless angel was undaunted by her speed, whether born of Stratos’ borrowed brilliance or Octavia’s own heated pursuit.

  She liked to imagine it was both in tandem, every beautiful, swirling beam she could send sailing forth a collaboration born of love. Their Heartful radiance collided with a gentle boom time after time. Galaxies were birthed between them as their scattering supernovas tinted the air with sparkling debris. It was splendorous, and Stratos’ power had always been equally so. Octavia couldn’t fathom losing it this way. It was a gift to the universe, whether her own or otherwise--as was he, ultimately.

  You have grown immensely since you have first touched my heart.

  Octavia had no room to smile, not for how she battled so desperately and raced just as fiercely. She wished her heart could compensate. Her sorrow was overpowering, instead. You’ve given me so much.

  I wish only that I could have given more.

  She highly doubted that she was gaining ground by Ramulus’ own will. Still, the Apex of Heart left his dead vessel standing strong, glaring into her soul as their brilliant bursts collided time after time. Octavia wanted to slow down. She needed to slow down. She needed every last second she could have with a Muse so beloved. She needed every note she could steal with her ears and every surge of scorching warmth she could feel sear her fingertips. She needed to steal all that he had while she had the chance.

  Even as she is, I have always felt her love within.

  Her heart was pounding ferociously, and the fight for her life had absolutely nothing to do with it.

  For the love she had entrusted to me, I was a fool not to cherish you on her behalf.

  Octavia couldn’t falter. She couldn’t slow her fingers, nor her footsteps, nor her song. Nonetheless, his words slowed time itself.

  And yet, even now, there is one within my heart who adores you more than life itself.

  If she tried, she could reach. If she pushed just a bit further, she could strike close. Octavia was playing with fire, each bursting boom leaving flaking embers of brilliance sprinkling against her skin. Their sting was irrelevant. It was her heart alone that burned.

  I could never hope to match her love, Octavia, nor could words do it justice. All that I am and all that I could give would pale in comparison. Still, I have endeavored.

  She didn’t want to do this. She didn’t want to do this. She didn’t want to do this.

  Above all else, know that Priscilla loved you with all of her heart.

  And still, just feet from the Apex’s vessel, Octavia ripped the bow across the strings as she screeched to a halt.

  Above all else, know that I love you just the same.

  And as Stratos became her shield, the most spectacular star that had ever sparkled in her life, the person born before her eyes was undaunted by the Apex of Heart. His luminescent arms were thrown wide before her, and it wasn't his vessel alone that protected her for once. For all he’d done to save her time and time again, he’d been correct.

  At point-blank, given how quickly he’d intervened, Rani’s assault was a reflex. Even the Lord of All had faltered, ignorant to his misguided attack as scathing radiance exploded with the might of one thousand bursting suns. From so near, Octavia knew well that they’d been meant for her. He’d promised her a swift death, after all.

  It was an instinct to cling to Stradivaria for dear life. She treasured the sensation of her tingling blood as she pulled him close, her face pressed tightly against the warm mahogany. Her tears burned just as fiercely as she gritted her teeth, and her love, too, was instinctive. It always had been.

  “I love you!” she screamed, her voice cracking instantly.

  The supernova he became was the most gorgeous sight she’d ever seen. The iridescent ivories and golds that burst with an intolerable brightness before her were irrelevant to her pupils. She swore never to close her eyes in the face of his sacrifice. It was surely not Rani’s assault alone that had blessed her with brilliance as Stratos became her dying sun. Her veins burned in one million ways still, her soul on fire and her heart much the same.

  Octavia wondered how resplendent he’d been at birth. She wondered if the luminous touch that had brought him into being had intentionally crafted such a splendorous heart, the form she’d given him notwithstanding. For a moment, she couldn’t see Rani at all--not with the blinding galaxy that exploded before her. Even like this, even as he left her behind, Stratos was every bit as beautiful. She loved him every bit as much.

  He crumbled. She hadn't thought she’d lose a memento so precious like this. Where Octavia had long since come to believe she’d see him off to Above with a gentle touch and delicate sparkles as his vessel dissipated, it was not to be. The weightlessness that besieged her from atop her shoulder and within her pleading grasp was different altogether. She felt every crack, every spreading crevice, every creeping splinter that led him to utter obliteration in her hands.

  Stradivaria was no more in the worst way, eviscerated in a manner that left the violin instantly reduced to scattering ashes. It wasn’t as though she had them for long, and even her best attempts to cling desperately to the last of him were futile. They, too, escaped her, lost to the atmosphere of Silence in tandem with the fleeting rain of his radiant aftermath.

  Octavia wanted to cry. She wanted to scream. She wanted to rage.

  And of the latter, she did, lest his efforts be in vain.

  Her window was tiny, widened in the slightest by Rani's mild recoil through the overwhelming cloud of dazzling debris. Octavia had never once seen the Apex of Heart emote through his stolen body, and the sight was jarring. She had no time to dwell on it, torn somewhere between wrath and grief. She wondered if the former was misplaced. She didn’t care. With her hands newly emptied, much to her unfathomable dismay, Octavia was free to do as she was told.

  She outright lunged. Rani’s hesitation was irrelevant. If the Ambassador was to be burned, she hardly cared. She was already burning enough.

  “Rani!” Octavia screamed.

  Even devoid of true acknowledgement, the girl’s scathing eyes barely rising to meet her own, she was unrelenting.

  “Your toll has been paid once over!”

  Octavia came down with both hands. She thought to go for Rani’s neck, given how grief stormed her veins still. Still, it was the girl’s head that first came within range of her fingertips.

  “Now, your Ambassador will see through the eyes of the one who paid the toll!”

  And with her body nearly leaving the ground, the soles of her boots outright scraping the air, she had much to weigh her down to the place she’d so effortlessly learned to descend. It was with a true dive that she plunged into the depths of the dark. With her fingertips brushing against Rani’s wispy hair, Octavia embraced the emptiness of a different death for the final time in her life.

  It was the last thing she’d ever take from Stratos.

  ◆ ◆ ◆

  Given what she couldn’t perceive of the Lord of All, she was just as powerless to perceive that which he called home. It had taken her two tries in the dark to come to terms with the fact. For Stratos’ sake, and for the paradise he'd described it to be, Octavia liked to imagine it was beautiful.

  Every soft sound was a blessing, every gorgeous color a miracle. It was all she could steal with eyes not hers to possess, immaterial as they were. There was something almost sacrilegious about borrowing Stratos' sight, for how divine she truly found him to be. Octavia wondered why she hadn’t felt the same of Mixoly. Even from what she was gifted with, she could come to adore Above regardless. She wished she would’ve asked Stratos more of his experiences, should he have seen fit to share them. She doubted he would remember being born. If Octavia couldn’t do the same, she wouldn’t put the feat on his shoulders--otherworldly or otherwise.

  Do you take pride in it?

  I could do nothing else.

  Octavia knew that voice well, for how she’d heard it what felt like hundreds of times over.

  Is it perfect?

  It is all that it could be.

  And, if nothing else, she’d treasure every last word he could give while she was down here--or up, if his gracious eyes were willing to share his beloved paradise even now.

  Why do you watch with such sadness that which you treasure?

  It could be better.

  How so?

  In every way.

  Octavia had always wondered as to their relationship. She kicked herself for not asking. She praised herself for giving him the privacy he’d pleaded for.

  It could be beautiful, Stratos.

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  It already is.

  They both were. They always had been. In one toll, she had two Heartful Muses to love, unseen as they were. She liked the way they were gentle with one another, even in disagreement. She liked to imagine he was once happy, for all he’d said of Mixoly.

  I…wish that I could empathize with you, but I truly do find it perfect as it is.

  How will it become?

  I could not fathom, and that is what makes it wonderful.

  I could not stand to see it wasted.

  Where it would exist, no matter the outcome, it would never be a waste.

  Stratos loved where Mixoly couldn’t. It was so like him.

  The boundary is not to be crossed.

  Yet still it exists.

  Mixoly.

  I will return. You have my word.

  It was a cruelty Octavia had now seen from both sides, still clouded to her mortal eyes. Every word was just as damning.

  You will regret your choice.

  I will not.

  Please, do not do this.

  Await me, Stratos, for I will return soon.

  Mixoly.

  If it was possible to hear heartbreak upon one name alone, Octavia could find it in the tone she’d long since come to adore. In the depths of the memories she’d battled her way through again and again, it had been Mixoly’s voice she’d fixated on. Loathing of Stratos as she’d been at the time, his pleas had been cast aside. It was a regret Octavia hadn’t harbored until now, and she bitterly loathed herself instead for how often she’d taken the same voice for granted. Even pained, it was his, and she’d squandered it hundreds of times over. It was an irreparable folly.

  She has descended?

  It is true, my Lord.

  I see.

  She will…return.

  She will not.

  She has sworn upon it, my Lord.

  She cannot cross the boundary once more.

  To hear true panic in Stratos' voice, even muted, was toxic to Octavia’s heart. Why?

  In the wake of his fear, Ramulus was every bit as calm and composed as she’d learned him to be. She is tainted by the impurities of such a world. She cannot return harboring that which is imperfect.

  My Lord, something must be done!

  Know, Stratos, that in light of such a sin, she would not be granted passage regardless.

  My Lord, please, he begged.

  My word is unyielding.

  Where Mixoly had struggled below, Stratos had struggled on her behalf Above. Even by proxy, his sorrow was contagious. Unseen or otherwise, it stung Octavia’s soul.

  And when she was robbed of a heavenly glow altogether, plunged into pitch-blackness to match his sorrow, Octavia initially found it to meet her true definition of a toll. There was the briefest moment by which she either expected to abruptly rise to lucidity once more or to experience a shift not unlike that which had poisoned Mixoly’s memories.

  Still, having seen what she’d witnessed of both Priscilla and Drey’s tolls--the former in particular--she highly doubted their memories would’ve been compromised in the same fashion as Lucian’s. The way by which the heavenly sounds of Above itself had been so jarringly replaced with the unmistakable chorus of agony incarnate wasn't lost on her in any capacity.

  Stratos was silent. It was dark. Octavia had nothing--not even the soft lights she’d come to love. He didn’t plead or beg, not as Mixoly had. In his place, uncertain and helpless, Octavia wondered if she would’ve been as calm. She wondered if he’d known of the form he’d taken, or if he’d been blessed with one at all by now. She wondered if he’d been scared. She wondered if he could even feel fear in the first place.

  He wasn’t truly alone.

  You are secure.

  What has come to pass, my Lord?

  She has brought the world to ruin.

  I do not understand.

  Her agony becomes her, and such has compromised that which was perfect.

  Where is this?

  A realm not ours to touch.

  And we have come to its surface?

  Not of our own volition. It is she who has forced our descent.

  I…cannot see.

  You will not, of your own accord.

  Once more, I do not understand.

  We are not to touch this realm, lest it be further endangered.

  Then wherein lies a solution? Are we eternally bound to such darkness, my Lord?

  In time, you will have your sight once more. Grant me your trust, then, and I shall repair what has been lost.

  You…have my utmost faith, my Lord.

  Octavia knew how this worked, vaguely. Mixoly had told her as much. For all of the eyes she’d stolen through touches upon a little piccolo, a humble violin was no different. Her strangers were irrelevant, their identities equally so. Not one was familiar, their worlds and lives enigmas she didn’t care to unravel.

  Her focus was on Stratos and Stratos alone--whether blessed by his tone, his words, or the simple visage of a beautiful vessel her hands had long since memorized the sensation of. Sometimes, her borrowed eyes were wide with awe at his luminous prowess, accidentally spawned or otherwise. It was, admittedly, comical, although she knew the reaction to be vaguely hypocritical. Everyone started somewhere. She’d been no exception.

  The Ambassador?

  They are the key to salvation.

  How do you mean?

  In human hands, a balance may be struck. While our touch may burden the world, that of one who already walks upon it will not. Just as we entrust ourselves to others, so, too, would we entrust ourselves to one alone. It would be more than simply repelling what agony she has unleashed. Know, Stratos, that such a savior could well guide our path to Above once more.

  It truly was incredible, the way by which Ramulus’ voice haunted his thoughts. Octavia was jealous, somewhat. It was a place only she’d hoped to inhabit. What is to be done, then?

  Ramulus’ explanation was thorough, if nothing else.

  Had Octavia not known what she knew of the role already, she would’ve surely been infinitely more confused. By comparison, she greatly appreciated the way Stratos--and his assisting Muses in turn, really--had broken down her task bit by bit with patience. For how Ramulus unraveled facets of the spider web she’d never even considered, it was in the depths of the last toll she’d ever witnessed that Octavia learned exactly how complicated every tangling thread of her responsibility had been.

  Stratos took it all with grace. She took it all with a headache she couldn’t quite maintain, adrift in the darkness as she was. She’d keep what she could to relay when she came up, even if she knew how much would slip through her fingers. If Josiah was down here instead, he would’ve lost his mind.

  And a human would accept such a task without question?

  They would surely not, for what would come.

  He had always known. It ached in every way, a confirmation Octavia still couldn’t bring herself to hate him over.

  You are to shape them.

  How, my Lord?

  It is your choice. Do as is necessary.

  Octavia's heart sank.

  Am I to decide?

  I shall carry that burden.

  It was impressive that Mixoly had recognized that part. She wondered at what point the forsaken Muse had figured it out, isolated as she’d become.

  The words didn’t leave Stratos’ heart as often as she would’ve expected, really. She truly did wonder if the haste she’d been presented with initially was a ruse after all. Of those who laid claim to his vessel, multiple as they were, the candidates he found were few and far between. For the way by which he was often silent, his scheming stilled in favor of observing the world through stolen eyes, Octavia doubted he was the only sentry of the Lord of All. It made enough sense, given what she’d known of Faith’s unfortunate training. Whether or not Jasse would’ve followed through was still a mystery.

  Of those who did submit to the role, they never went far. Even without the knowledge of artificial selection or the hellish fate that awaited them should they surrender--let alone submit--so many were complacent. In reality, Stratos was lucky if his coercion led to anywhere at all, for those who weren't so easily persuaded. Ultimately, many did doff the role. It chilled Octavia to her core to witness the consequences. How close she’d come to the same was utterly horrifying.

  Did…did you just talk to me?

  There was, as could be expected, exactly one candidate who didn't shy away.

  You hear my voice, then.

  Oh my God, you’re talking to me.

  She would never stop being so beautiful, even in the darkest depths of a toll.

  I have been with you all along. Are you truly surprised?

  The violin is talking to me.

  Stratos' light, unseen or not, was the most gorgeous compliment to her own.

  Ambassador?

  One such as yourself, who may guide our path to where we rightfully belong.

  Deceptive or not, their hearts were inseparable. Octavia couldn’t blame her for loving him. For how she loved him, too, there was at least a brief moment of hesitation. Stratos was truly deceitful, and that had been established in earnest. Still, Octavia walked a fine line between a love for the softest golds and the most delicate reds. One was innocent in every way. One was complicit, maliciously or otherwise.

  Once you undertake the role, you may still relinquish the title in the future. Should you become overwhelmed, simply speak to such. We will find another.

  That, then, hurt.

  You are a fool who would bring more pride to your legacy than any before you.

  She wondered, in the most briefly bitter way, if he lamented that Drey had beaten him to Priscilla’s downfall. It was somewhat sick, the manner in which Octavia was certain Priscilla would’ve preferred the fate of the Ambassador instead.

  Are you praising me or insulting me?

  I am admiring you.

  Octavia had sworn to trust in his words, at least of her own accord. Her heart burned more with each and every soft sentiment Stratos offered up. Priscilla deserved the world. Priscilla deserved better.

  Can I…recommend someone?

  That, too, was a problem.

  For what reason have you hesitated?

  He’d spent years in that chest. Octavia wondered if he was lonely, plunged right back into the darkness with only the Apex of Heart for company.

  Of those who walk this world with such pure hearts, is it not a sin to lead them astray?

  It is not out of malice. Our actions serve a greater purpose.

  It is tragic.

  I do not disagree.

  His sorrow was contagious.

  Is there…truly no other way?

  You have grown attached, then.

  I have not.

  There is no shame in admitting so.

  I simply wish to preserve what has been created.

  As do I, Stratos. Even still, unfortunate sacrifices are to be made.

  I…understand.

  Will you abandon your role?

  I will not.

  Recall its intent.

  Yes, my Lord.

  To split his love was a cruelty. It split Octavia’s heart in turn. Stratos had his chance with the very same heart, ultimately.

  Don’t.

  Stop!

  Protect him.

  Octavia!

  How ironic, then, that the first words he'd offered to her had been so fleeting. She wondered at what point they’d come to mean anything.

  Stradivaria?

  Yes?

  I just wanted to know if you were there.

  I am here, Octavia.

  Her name in his voice had always been so sweet, whether within or without.

  To what degree would you follow in the path of your sister?

  She’d never noticed how quickly he’d begun to push. Down here, in the depths of all that he was, it took everything Octavia possessed to trust in his love. For all that she’d seen and continued to see, and for all that Mixoly had dragged to the surface, the evidence was damning and overwhelming. Every flash and fragment wasn't enough to highlight his deception at instance after instance. She found more than her soul could take.

  It is for those reasons that I offer you the opportunity to step away from this path.

  She very well could’ve died that day. Octavia wondered if it would’ve been instant.

  It hurt. It stung. Under no circumstances did she enjoy it, and her heart broke again and again. It was as far back as she could remember, and she could hardly recall when he was once silent anymore. His voice was a natural aspect of her life, steady and constant whenever she should look for it. When she came up, it would surely still be there. She would surely still possess it in equal measure, should she opt to look within. To believe otherwise was a sin.

  Even still, Octavia didn’t mind sharing her eyes. If it was with him, it was fine.

  She was almost flattered by the way their camaraderie had brought with it memories that she, too, would never forget. It was his light surging through her veins atop a bell tower, and much the same in desperation so far below it twice over. It was his love staining her blood in the halls of a cultural institution, blighting one besieged by ideals and one bent on revenge. It was his promise of all he could give aboard a train rolling into the night, and it was his own radiance exploding upon the touch of his kin in three different ways.

  It was every last time she’d cradled him in her arms with love on moonlit nights, beset only by soft starlight and the gentle breeze to keep her company where he faltered. Of those cherished memories alone, he’d been honest. He really, truly had enjoyed it. For how many times she bore witness to the same comfort as she held fast to him over and over, she found no lie in his heart.

  You are growing attached once more.

  My Lord, there must be another way.

  Stratos, there is not. It is as I have told you, and this will not change.

  My Lord--

  You have performed excellently. She is phenomenal. Take pride in your work.

  She is…beautiful.

  In every way.

  My Lord, I only wish that she could be spared such a fate.

  As do I, and yet this is how it must be.

  We can…strategize. We can plan as to--

  Stratos, I will speak one final time, and not a word more. This is the only way. This is the only path to redemption. I deeply regret what is to come to that child, and I hope that you do not mistake my insistence for apathy. However, you cannot forsake those Above for the heart of one below. Strengthen your own heart and do what must be done. Continue to guide her path, as she will guide others. It is the blood of the Ambassador alone that is necessary. You know this to be true. Do not ask again.

  I…

  Do you understand?

  Yes, my Lord.

  Octavia ached for him.

  Octavia, please.

  You’re lying.

  I am not.

  How many times had she berated him?

  Please.

  Nothing you say is going to change my mind, Stratos.

  Don’t act like you care.

  I do.

  Liar.

  Not of this.

  How many times had she shunned his love, mired in deceit he could no longer escape?

  Do you detest me?

  You lied to me.

  You…knew?

  You knew.

  And, at the worst time, how long had it taken her to realize the truth of his heart?

  Would you stand against me as I claim your own?

  Let this serve as my apology, by which I have wronged you in every way.

  I’m not mad at you.

  Not for a moment shall I leave your side.

  Octavia hadn’t said enough.

  I don’t want to do this!

  I hope this will serve as your truth.

  She had one thousand more questions for him. She had one thousand more words to offer him. She had one thousand more secrets to share with him, and one thousand more surges of love in her heart that she hoped would coat him in full. Stratos was selfish, then, for leaving her this way. He was awful for abandoning her to a world where his light would never again warm her blood or bring a smile to her face.

  You are beloved.

  You are adored.

  You always shall be.

  It was the worst mistake she’d ever made in her life that she hadn’t told him enough times over. If she were to scream it with everything she had, if she were to let the words fly from her lungs to the empty skies above, she would do so until her heart gave out and she perished in turn. He was no Mixoly. He wasn’t out there still. She couldn’t fathom as to where he’d gone, nor where she was to direct her desperate cries.

  Above all else, know that Priscilla loved you with all of her heart.

  It mattered so, so little how recently his sweet voice had tinted her ears with love she knew well.

  Above all else, know that I love you just the same.

  That was all that mattered, and all that ever would.

  I love you!

  And Octavia's greatest relief, now and forever, was that he’d carried her words to his death.

  ◆ ◆ ◆

  “I have borne witness to your pain!”

  It was through gritted teeth and streaming tears that she struggled. It was with fingers that trembled viciously, practically digging into Rani’s scalp the moment she came up. Octavia knew her voice to be cracking, shaking viciously beneath the weight of every sob that erupted from her throat. She knew of the pulsing luminescence in her peripheral, low enough that it just barely caught the edges of her eyes. Her window was closing. She didn’t need it. She didn’t need anything anymore.

  Octavia wasn’t content to simply touch the Maestra’s head. Instead, she was gripping desperately, and it was with an outright scream that she found words long burned into her tongue.

  “And my light guides your passage from the depths of my heart!”

  Even after they’d left her lips, her iron grasp never faltered.

  Her tears never stilled, her breaths never calmed, and she never ceased her relentless shaking. Octavia could do nothing more than sob endlessly, somewhat conscious through her blurring vision of the way the shimmering light beneath her waned and fizzled. No matter how fiercely she fought to restrain Rani’s head, it was with little effort that the small Maestra pushed back against her.

  The eyes that rose to meet hers once more waned in their own way, doffing the veil of brilliance that had plagued them for so long. They were hollow yet again, and Octavia loathed the way that the child stared into her soul. In that moment, Rani truly was an angel of death, and she returned an empty gaze with all of the hatred she could muster. Part of her knew it wasn’t necessarily deserved. The rest of her didn’t care.

  It was Rani, then, who flickered like the light she was. Split cleanly between two worlds, she was immune to the rules of neither. Octavia breathed the tiniest sigh of relief that their collective assumptions had been correct. The girl truly was a Harmonial Instrument, and the Ambassador’s touch offered mercy where Octavia wished she could offer anything but. For all Ramulus had wrought, he hardly deserved it. For what he’d stolen away, even if it had been the idea of the one she loved, she faulted him. Ramulus faulted her in turn. Octavia had stolen from him, too, after all.

  “You know not what you have done,” came the deep voice from Rani’s lips, sparkling with something far less powerful than the radiance she’d weaponized.

  And as the girl’s fingertips glistened with something equally submissive, fizzling and fading into beautiful debris, it was Octavia who argued otherwise. “I know exactly what I did,” she spat.

  “You have destroyed something pure.”

  Her eyes swam with tears, and each one trickled down her cheeks eternally. “I know.”

  Octavia watched as every part of the dead child glossed over with the same glorious glimmer, sparking and dissipating speck by speck like shredded stars she couldn’t stand to look at. He didn’t deserve it. It shouldn’t have been him. “It was not to be his sacrifice,” Ramulus argued, stealing the words from her own thoughts.

  Octavia shook her head, her sorrow splashing onto her trembling arms. “He did it for you, and he did it for me. He did it out of love. Everything he did, he did out of love!”

  “It was not your love to take.”

  “It was!” she screamed, inches from the child’s dissolving gaze.

  “Stratos always was clever,” Ramulus conceded softly.

  “He was so much more than that,” Octavia growled, somewhat lamenting the weightlessness her hands were beginning to greet. “You didn’t deserve him.”

  “And yet it is I who had blessed his existence.”

  “He was too good for Above,” Octavia spat. “He was a miracle.”

  Ramulus paused, and Octavia initially feared she’d lost the opportunity to berate him further. For all she had left to say, it was an incredible frustration. Still, so near to merging with the nothingness in which she stood, his parting words sought to sting her yet further.

  “In rejecting death, you will live with the consequences, Ambassador. I hope you are satisfied with the choices you have made, for none may be undone.”

  Octavia narrowed her eyes, blurred by bitter tears as they were. “I don’t regret a single one.”

  And on the cusp of her vision, Rani nodded one final time. “So be it.”

  Her hands met with nothing. Her gaze met with nothing. Octavia had only nothing to greet her eyes on the horizon, stretching in every conceivable direction. It was a solid reflection of her heart, and she fell to her knees almost instantly. It was a reflex to fill her hands, to look for his vessel and grasp at what was below for a bow and violin she couldn’t hold.

  She could still feel the slight pressure dented into her shoulder where he’d just rested, the residual sting of his light tingling against her fingertips. She could hardly stay on her knees at all, for how the rest of her gave out just as quickly. She was on her palms much the same, nearly collapsing in full beneath the weight of pain she couldn’t suppress.

  With only the soft sounds of Silence to fill the void, Octavia let loose the most guttural cry of grief she’d ever imagined she could carry.

  For how unbelievably harshly it tore at her vocal cords and her throat, she was certain she’d practically burned them raw from a scream alone. She’d truthfully done it once before, and she recognized the exact involuntary feeling beneath the weight of yet another Ambassador’s untimely passing. She was outright flush with nothingness itself, her forehead pressed to where she would’ve hoped to find cool ground below.

  Octavia couldn’t breathe, sobbing her heart out as it shattered to pieces time and time again. She’d promised Stratos she’d be strong, and she liked to imagine he’d meant in that moment alone. She liked to imagine he’d give her time to grieve.

  The others gave her room. She needed it. She appreciated it, for how long she spilled her suffering into Silence aloud. It was endless, and she was a fountain of misery and regret for all that had never been said. It took ages for her breaths to steady and her sobs to become manageable, poorly swallowed and morphed into desperate hiccups as they were. She was shaking uncontrollably, and no amount of her best attempts to stop were doing her any favors.

  Octavia felt lost. She felt alone. It was a loneliness unlike anything she’d ever experienced, incomparable to that of mortal companionship. She wondered if this was what she’d been putting others through. She wondered if the experience was different altogether.

  It will be alright.

  Octavia wasn’t sure which one it was. She knew only that she’d stolen their voice.

  It was the crushing weight of grief that kept her bound to her knees upon nothing, and the ocean in her eyes she’d never blink away for the rest of her life that kept her sightless where there was little to see. And still, if she could hear their voices, Octavia was the Ambassador. There was more left to do, even now.

  Ninety-seven had become four, and rising to her feet was the most difficult trial she’d ever faced in her life.

  here!