The interior of the church was just as smothered in much the same true darkness as she'd expected. Francisco's resilient flames offered a reprieve that covered far more area than she would've anticipated inside. His song echoed down every hallway, even those yet unseen upon entry, in a way that wasn't entirely unwelcome compared to the screeching. They were surely not the type of flames the clergy who'd once claimed the Velpyre Church for themselves would've desired. They were the closest this place would ever get again. Octavia shuddered at the thought.

"Which way?" Francisco asked quickly.

Josiah closed his eyes for a moment, muttering something under his breath. "Left, straight, left again, and right!"

Even with the vibrant luminescence augmented by the power of an Apex, there was only so much Francisco could do at once. As such, there was no real way to carve a fiery path in full that would lead Josiah to such a firm choice of direction. There were no interior landmarks of which to speak. For as long ago as Josiah had fled from the suffocating grasp of the church's walls, the route to Seraphim's Call was surely instinctive. Octavia didn't press him on it. She would never, more than likely. He hardly even waited for anyone to express their understanding, bolting headfirst into the depths of the dark with her still seized tightly in his grip.

Whether he trusted the Ensemble or was simply impatient was debatable. There was a balance to be struck between the boy's necessary navigation through his broken home and the equally-necessary offense it would take to get them to Seraphim's Call. His directions had been simple enough, easy to memorize and execute in turn. It was River who stuck closest, an even distribution of their collective strengths serving them well in guarding the three cornerstones of their mission. Even if Mint couldn't bring thunderbolts striking down into the rolling agony inside, her rippling sparks and scattering jolts were enough to deter whatever chased them down.

Francisco, largely supportive as his role was, still scorched and seared his way through the bitter fog as was needed. River's footsteps matched pace almost perfectly with Josiah's, if not slightly faster when necessary. Again, Octavia was blessed with Renegadria's stormy melodies, the razor-edged gales born of the accordion slashing into the darkness relentlessly before them. The residual breezes that rustled her braids were still not unwelcome, especially given the beads of sweat that rolled from her brow.

Octavia was aware of Celestina panting distantly, somewhere in the general center of their formation. She resisted the urge to turn and assess the woman's safety. In a flickering, passing thought, Octavia briefly wondered where Mina had ended up, close to the former acolyte as she'd been. It was a concern that took little priority in the face of her current situation. As to how the former acolyte was holding up emotionally, particularly relative to their present location, Octavia feared asking at all.

"That one!"

"There?"

"Yes!"

River nearly kicked the door to the chapel down. The amount of Dissonance inside of the room, startlingly, was far less than Octavia had anticipated. It was enough that it still took effort to safely garner a path forward. Still, the screeching that scraped against her eardrums was far more tolerable. Her chronic nausea was weakening, her enduring lightheadedness easing somewhat. It was nearly a breath of fresh air, an oasis relative to the circumstances and location.

She stole as much of that fresh air as she could, physically and emotionally alike. Doubled over on her knees, much the same as Josiah, she put her trust in the Ensemble to give shelter to the Ambassador as she caught her breath. It wasn't misplaced, even as the atmosphere crackled and burned around her.

"That's it, then."

River's soft words didn't do the Harmonial Instrument justice. For as much as Octavia loathed the city and the church alike, Seraphim's Call had been innocent. This moment in time was no different, and it was every bit as magnificent as she'd remembered. Every pipe that climbed the walls to kiss the ceiling was still admirable. Every glistening key of all-too-ironic ivory and ebony shone brilliantly in the wake of Francisco's melodic embers. Every facet of resplendence would forever put mortal craftsmanship to shame, and the beauty of the instrument greeted Octavia's eyes in full once more.

It didn't bring to her heart the devastation its twin had cursed her with. The thought of its Maestra, reluctant as she'd been for her entire life, did. She beat down the thought again and again, willing herself to consider only the context of their primary objective rather than Selena's fleeting smile.

Francisco whistled. "It's…big."

"It's exactly how I remember it," Josiah murmured. "Not that…anything would've changed."

His words were heavy and pained, his eyes a perfect match. Octavia made the choice to lay Stradivaria upon the plush carpet at last, opting in full for Josiah's gentle touch instead. This time, it was her turn to reach for him. She squeezed. He squeezed back. It was harder than usual, and his eyes never left the instrument. On occasion, they flickered to the black stool that awaited a Maestra even now. Octavia had a feeling she knew why.

"Now we…is it as simple as it sounds?" River asked hesitantly.

Josiah hadn't looked Celestina in the eyes since the night they'd met. Octavia wasn't particularly confident in whatever words would leave his lips once he did. Celestina tensed long before he turned to face her. The gaze he fixed her with, ultimately, was as sharp as it was fatigued.

"Make a bond with Seraphim," he demanded quietly. "That's all you have to do. We won't ask for anything else."

Celestina's eyes darted to Octavia. The Ambassador did what she could to offer her unspoken warmth, fleeting as it was versus the colder boy she was tethered to. The woman's fingers twitched.

"I…how?"

"You'll figure it out."

Again did she look to Octavia for guidance. In truth, Octavia didn't have a definitive answer to give her, and the process was well beyond her. Every bond she was aware of amongst her companions--save for exactly one--had been a natural occurrence born simply of fate. As to the outlier, a moment of peril had prompted a consensual partnership that was not to last long. The latter was her only frame of reference, especially given exactly how brief this partnership was to be by comparison. All Octavia could offer her was a nod of reassurance.

They were quiet as the former acolyte took slow, shaky steps down the aisle. For as much effort as she put into steadying her breath, her best attempts were largely futile. In the absence of Dissonance, at least temporarily, Francisco had traded his song for their first shred of natural light since their descent into the Cursed City. With the last of his Willful embers, his delicate sparks had splashed across long-forgotten candle wicks along the walls. It was as calming as it was unsettling, genuine silence in a single room blessing the Ambassador with a tense reprieve.

If she strained, Octavia could still hear the distant cries of wailing Dissonance throughout the remainder of the church. For now, she felt secure. Logically, blessed with a Maestra or not, the haven of Seraphim's Call was the safest place she could be.

Celestina adjusting the stool beneath herself was somewhat surprising, moving ever closer to the organ uncomfortably. She didn't play, and yet her fingers came to rest atop the keys all the same. They trembled against the ivory, unblemished by the passage of time and spared even by the faintest coat of dust. She gazed blankly into the hardwood immediately before her, meritless as it was compared to any given glance in any other direction. Her breath rattled on every exhale.

"It's…been awhile," Celestina said quietly.

Octavia didn't dare move, fighting to harness even the slightest reverberation of a response that wasn't necessarily hers to hear. She wondered if Celestina knew her reunion wouldn't be entirely private. She wondered if the woman would care, for how desperately she'd once battled to flee her partner's embrace.

"How long has it been since I've sat here?" Celestina asked. "How long has it been since I've touched you?"

Josiah squeezed her hand. She squeezed back. It didn't break her focus.

The former acolyte paused. "Do I…deserve to touch you once more?"

Josiah didn't squeeze so much as he did strangle her fingers. Octavia winced, stiffening under his grip. In her current hold, it was nearly impossible to reciprocate, even delicately. She tried regardless. It was barely enough to get him to relax, returning at least a hint of her circulation.

"I…I left you. I left you alone, and I understand if you don't want me by your side again. It wasn't your fault. The fault was all mine, and I'm…so sorry that this is what it has come to."

Octavia could feel Josiah shaking. She didn't have the heart to turn her head. She could only squeeze his hand. He could only squeeze hers in return, gentler.

Celestina rested her forehead against the hardwood softly. "I cannot ask for forgiveness. To desire freedom, I don't think that is a sin. To abandon the hope of another in its place…that is different. If I could have been by your side until the end, maybe this would never have happened."

His trembling was fervent. Octavia squeezed. He didn't reciprocate.

"Maybe she…did you more justice than I could've. Did she love you? Did she fear you? Did she hate you? How did you feel?"

She squeezed. He still didn't answer back.

"Even if she loathed you, she was…there. You felt her touch. Was it gentle? Was it careful? What was she like?"

Octavia tried once more. Josiah flexed his fingers weakly against her own.

"For her to stand by your side every day, in this place…is a bravery beyond what I can imagine. You, who knew her since she was a young child, did you watch over her as she grew? Did you…ever see her smile? Was it beautiful?"

And when she found the strength to turn to him, tears ran down his cheeks freely.

Celestina stroked two keys with delicate fingertips. "Am I wrong to take the position she took so often on my behalf? Am I wrong to touch where her hands graced you when I did not?"

Through gritted teeth, he stifled his sobs, shoulders shaking in their place.

"Would you…let me feel her in your song, the one she played with you so many times over?" Celestina whispered, her voice hoarse. "Just…once more?"

He clung to her hand for dear life, trembling viciously.

I will honor your resolve.

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Where Octavia's eyes widened, Josiah's only dripped with bitter sorrow.

And with the first clear, echoing note that Seraphim's Call had breathed in far too long a time, Octavia's blood rippled with something indescribably pure.

Celestina's song was unlike anything she'd ever heard, even from this Harmonial Instrument specifically. It was gentle, somewhat nostalgic in a way she couldn't quite pinpoint. Octavia had been privy to the melody of Seraphim's Call before, reluctant as it was. It was the first time she'd ever heard the instrument sing with such grace and love, its clear sound soaking into her blood and pulsing against her soul. Again and again did the warm sensation wash over her in waves equal parts airy and overwhelming.

She couldn't move, nor did she dare to try, in the face of an inexplicable harmony that vibrated throughout her entire being. It was as wonderful as it was disorienting. She couldn't manage to move her fingers, try as she might to squeeze Josiah's hand once more. She could, at least, hear his ragged breaths as he struggled to swallow his sobs beside her.

Where Celestina closed her eyes, her fingers moved naturally and fluidly regardless. Every gentle stroke upon every shining key was unhesitant and elegant. Octavia didn't need to imagine the robes, nor the title, nor the environment necessary to nurture such an ill-fated flame. For what it was worth, the blood of an acolyte had never left her body. The blood of a Maestra, too, still ran through her veins, obvious with every trusting motion alongside her partner.

Much like her song, she, too, was just as beautiful to witness. It was surely a privilege to have the chance to love, and even now Octavia couldn't help but envy the woman's soft experience on Selena's behalf. This was far from Selena's song, and yet still so similar all the same. For more reasons than one, the Ambassador was moved. She struggled to stifle her own sorrow. She failed, tears pricking at the edges of her eyes.

What Octavia couldn't see, she could still feel in excess. Every echoing note brought with it a resounding echo in her own heart, coursing through her skin and muscles. So, too, could she practically feel the ground rippling beneath her feet, a sensation she initially dismissed as a hallucination. Only the looks of awe on the faces of the Ensemble served as any sort of confirmation, and the sounds that reverberated in the very atmosphere smothered them lovingly.

Octavia was distantly aware of the wavering screeching, should she strain her ears enough to listen for the agony over the weight of Seraphim's song. It was of little immediate concern. Instead, she split her attention between cherishing the warmth that the melody brought to her heart and the boy at her side who broke it to pieces.

Josiah's hand in her own still trembled relentlessly. It matched well with the way he'd cast his closed eyes high, his head tilted back as he quietly wept. His efforts to restrain his sobs weren't perfect, and cries occasionally escaped his throat from time to time. He didn't bother to wipe away the tears that bitterly streamed down his face. Instead, he withstood the song of Seraphim's Call with his own resilient grace, heartrending as it was. Octavia squeezed his hand, fighting against the strength of sound pulsing through her blood. Only once did he reciprocate. It was enough. It was more than enough.

In reality, the tender moment Celestina shared with her previous partner wasn't eternal. It didn't change Octavia's perception as to the contrary. Even long after only the residual echoes of the organ's singing radiated throughout the chapel, Octavia could still feel the ripples in her soul. She couldn't move. She wasn't the only one, nor was she the sole observer who clung to silence.

Celestina's soft words were the only thing that offset the sound of Josiah's struggles to regain his composure. Octavia was grateful for the way no one stared at him as he wiped his eyes on his sleeves, battling uneven breaths that still threatened to choke him up and begin his sorrow anew. Placing her duty as the Ambassador before his well-being was its own kind of torture.

"Thank you."

You have returned, Octavia heard in exchange.

"Are you furious with me?"

Why would you believe so?

"I abandoned you," Celestina breathed. "I left you so suddenly. How…long did it take for you to find companionship again?"

Several years.

"She was young."

Very.

"Did you…love her?"

I did.

"Even if she didn't love you?"

Were it so, the fault could never be her own. She was a forsaken child. What love I could give would never be enough.

"I'm…sorry," Celestina whispered, her voice cracking.

You, too, were forsaken. For that, I cannot express my sorrows enough. It is by my--our--hands that you have suffered so.

"That's not true."

The words that had left Octavia's mouth, to most, were without context. The eyes that fell upon her, collectively, were largely confused as she approached the former acolyte. With shaky steps and balled fists, she did everything she could to maintain what composure she had in the face of a song that had left her knees weak.

"What's…not true?" River asked softly.

It wasn't Celestina that Octavia stared down, but rather the very Harmonial Instrument itself. Her eyes rose high along its gorgeous, scaling visage, drinking in every facet of its splendor once again. "You didn't do anything wrong. Valkyrie's Call didn't do anything wrong, either. What people did to you isn't your fault--either of you. These cities aren't your fault. The horrible things that have happened inside the church aren't your fault. People hurting other people wasn't your fault. Don't…say that. You didn't ask to be here."

She, too, seemed to desire less than to call this place her own.

"Then you two had a lot more in common than you think."

The deep, gentle masculinity that challenged Octavia was quiet for a moment. You have come all this way, Ambassador?

Octavia nodded. "Yes."

What would possess you to do so, in the wake of such suffering?

"You."

You would go so far for one such as myself?

Again, she nodded. "I'm not leaving you behind."

Where she found temporary silence, the voice warmed her from the inside-out. Yours is a heart stronger than any that could be imagined. No words will do my gratitude justice.

Octavia smiled weakly. "I'm…Octavia," she offered, folding her trembling hands over the heart he so praised.

And he was beautiful.

The silky glows that wove the very strength of sound itself before her eyes were always pleasant. They were ever more so in the wake of the effort it had taken to find him. The Muse that emerged from nothing to something for the sole purpose of meeting her gaze was resplendent. His elegance was angelic, his presence as pure as his voice. The luminous, muted ivories that besieged her weren't dissimilar to that of an angel's wings, in turn.

His existence alone was ethereal, hauntingly lovely in a way that stood in stark contrast to the perceived brutality of his legacy. Logically, she knew none but a Heartful could've seen his divine visage in full. Had those who'd practically worshiped his vessel known of the angel born of song that rested within, Octavia wondered how different a city Velpyre would've been.

All eyes were upon him, instead, and Octavia couldn't blame them one bit. Celestina's own were positively radiant, wide and shimmering with wonder. Humbled as she was, Octavia watched her bow her head low, hands resting over her own heart in turn.

"I-I am Celestina Ebony, heir to the--former…heir to the…Ebony family. I could not deserve to call myself the Velpyre Acolyte once again," she said hesitantly.

Josiah, if he had qualms with her words, didn't address them. He, too, met Octavia where she stood, his face still somewhat red from the efforts of suppressing his pain. He raised his eyes high, just the same as the Maestras he flanked. His calm, even voice betrayed his prior sorrow. "You're…Seraphim's Call," he observed aloud.

The Muse nodded, bowing slightly to the Ambassador. For as divine as his image was, it made Octavia's heart skip a beat. "I am Seraphe. I have long dreamed of meeting the Ambassador. That my wish would become reality in such a place is surely the work of destiny alone."

Octavia waved meekly. "We've met before, remember? Just…one time, but we've met."

Again, he nodded. "I would not forget you."

And when he turned to Josiah, the same words were somewhat more striking. "As to you, child. I could not forget you, as well."

Josiah's eyes widened. "Me?"

"How many times has your voice fallen upon this sanctum?" he questioned gently. "How many times have I borne witness to your melancholy and sorrow alike within these walls? Before me, how many times is it that you have been by her side? You had offered her all that I was powerless to give. I could not forget, nor would I ever."

Again, Octavia watched as Josiah's gaze glistened with pain unshed. He squeezed his eyes shut once over. "I…you watched us, then? You…watched over us."

"I did."

"For how long?"

"As long as you have watched over her."

Despite his best efforts, not all of his tears remained caged. At least two broke through, slipping through the cracks of Octavia's heart on their way down. She'd known Selena for so short a time, and even that was enough to curse her soul with grief. She couldn't imagine. She wouldn't try to imagine. All she could do was bless him with her silence and the chance to grieve with one who'd guarded that flame just as closely.

"I don't…think she actually hated you," Josiah reassured, his voice unmistakably wavering. "She hated them. She hated what they made her do. You were…stuck somewhere in the middle of that. If things weren't how they were, if she was given a choice, I think it would've been different. She didn't deserve anything that happened to her, but you didn't, either. They hurt you, too."

The Muse didn't acknowledge him immediately, Josiah's words hanging in the open air. "As to what title she was given, it meant little. As to what role she played, that, too, meant little. This very place, so inconsequential, has brought only suffering in my name. It is a shame I will never escape. From what I have witnessed within these walls, I have lost faith in this world many a time. I will not ask for forgiveness, for in truth, my feelings have not changed. I would not fault you for your ire."

Josiah shook his head. "I absolutely couldn't agree with you more."

"We want to get you out of here," Octavia offered quietly. "We don't want you to have to be here alone anymore. We all fought so hard to make it here to you. Will you…let us help you?"

Part of her had expected an instant affirmation, particularly given his gruesome situation for so long. When Seraphe's gaze drifted to Celestina, Octavia was somewhat surprised. So was the former acolyte.

"You are fine with such a departure? After so short a reunion?" Seraphe asked.

Celestina smiled faintly. "This is the least that I can do. I, too, came all this way for you. To play by your side again--to choose--is a miracle I will never forget. I hope to offer what should've been offered to you so long ago, my Seraphim."

"There is a strength in your blood that endures even now," he offered. "I will pray for your happiness. May you find in your future what you could not find by my side."

Celestina nodded. "Thank you for…watching over my Selena."

"I will carry her with me for eternity."

Octavia battled tears in place of a smile for the Muse. Even if Josiah didn't opt for a smile of his own, he still fought his own pain all the same. Selena's name alone burned. In that way, the flame loved by so many in the chapel had never truly left the room. Octavia did what she could to steady her breathing in light of the grief that lingered around her. She stepped forward ever further, gazing down upon the glistening keys.

From this distance, every last facet of ivory and ebony that eagerly awaited her touch was even more pristine and inviting. She wondered exactly where Selena's fingers had settled atop them each and every time she'd played. She wondered if she could follow in the acolyte's shadow, if she tried.

"It was…nice to meet you," Octavia said softly. "I'm so happy you get to go home."

From this angle, she couldn't see him. Still, she could hear his voice, warm and angelic all the same. "I will watch over you from afar, Ambassador. I will pray for your happiness as well. Know that I am in your debt, should you…see this task through to the end."

She smiled just as softly. "I'll make this quick. I'm excited for you to get to see everyone again."

Seraphe was silent. Octavia raised her hands above the keys preemptively. "Whenever you're ready," she offered.

"Celestina Ebony," she heard him begin.

Even now, her eyes glazed over every key. For how unblemished the surface of each was, it was impossible to pinpoint Selena's exact motions or identify any lingering fingerprints. Octavia supposed it was a piece of the acolyte she would never find on her own, reclaimed by a world that had never been hers to stumble upon.

She wondered what Selena would say, were she here to see such a spectacle. Her fingers dipped lower with anticipation. It was the closest she would ever come to emulating the acolyte, if even for a moment. It was enough to elicit a smile.

"Your toll has been paid 14,378 times over."

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