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It shouldn't have surprised her, logically, that her very first flash entailed some of the most horrific screaming Octavia had ever heard in her entire life.

Of all the shrieks of pain and agony she'd witnessed, to hear such shrill wails of terror and hurt from the mouth of a child would haunt her forever. Her vision blurred, her perspective shifted wildly, and her borrowed hands were so, so small. Octavia could never move them regardless--not of her own accord, at least. Her stranger couldn't, either, to be fair, bound as they were in grasps so much larger and stronger.

Already, so young as she was, her night-black locks were long and vivid, flowing freely over her shoulders as she gazed at the floor. No amount of flailing--nor sobbing, nor begging, nor promising--was successful in freeing her little body of restrictions. It took several people to hold her in place, for how viciously she fought back. Even out of context, Octavia wanted to cheer her on.

Is it done?

I don't believe it's deep enough to stay.

Give it to me. Take my place.

Here?

Yes.

She heard the sizzle that came with the desperate screams and cries once more. Octavia got her context. Every misplaced apology that fell from the tiny acolyte's mouth was broken, unrefined, unpolished. Her sentence construction was poor. She was far, far too young. Knowing what she knew now, she couldn't help but wonder exactly how much of this truly was Seraphe's choice.

You are to play thrice nightly. There is a schedule to be upheld.

What is it?

This is Seraphim's Call. It is the guardian of Velpyre. You, little acolyte, are the flame that shares its warmth with us all. You must carry such an honor with pride and grace.

But I don't know how to play.

It will guide you.

I can't reach.

We will aid you.

Do I have to?

You must.

They gave her no reprieve. There was no window between the moment she donned the colorful robes, too big for her tiny body, and the moment Octavia began to memorize each and every one of their faces respectively.

What if I don't want to?

It is not your choice.

Octavia fought with all of her might to overhear even the slightest indication of Selena's age. She wasn't entirely sure she wanted to know, in truth. To her credit, size be damned, Selena really did try--at first. It was a thankless job, with zero motivation or reward besides the weakest of praises and the most convoluted of sentiments. There was surely no way for a child so young to understand. Even Octavia could hardly understand.

She made it a month. Threats worked for a while. Threats held no water if not delivered on. Octavia was left wondering how low a person had to fall to break the leg of a child who could hardly speak in full sentences. By the end of this toll, she wondered how many of Selena's different screams she would've collected, balanced carefully atop a shelf she wished she could smash to pieces.

How a child was to grow without food was beyond her. How a child was to play with broken fingers was beyond her. How a child was supposed to sleep well during the reprieve of day peppered in burns and bruises was beyond her. She was a pendulum between compliance and rebellion. It was either submission to an unending task too taxing for her little body, or suffering in place of a song. There was no alternative. Even in times where Octavia prayed with all of her heart for the tiny acolyte to accept her fate in peace, it was the strength in her blood that surely led her to struggle time and time again.

They wouldn't kill her. She wondered if Selena knew, even young as she was. She still couldn't read. Weak as she was, walking was laborious. There was no drive for enjoyment, no zest for life. She saved tears, largely shed in private between whispers for those who weren't there to coddle her. It wasn't as though Octavia had found them anywhere in this toll to begin with. She knew they would never come. For all the kindness she'd offered to Celestina, she understood Josiah's wrath just the slightest bit more with every flash.

The beauty of Seraphe's melody in Selena's little hands was irrelevant, given its cost. Either it sang, or she suffered. Sometimes, she received both outcomes, for how strained the mere act of playing could leave her. It made sense--she was small. The instrument was large. The stretching and fumbling that came with it, even guided by the hands of a Muse, was undoubtedly beyond what she could be expected to handle. For how often she heard of that which would've made her just as small, so high above, it might've been twice as insulting.

How humiliating that a flame cannot warm the blossom it is meant to nurture.

But I'm trying!

Do not lie.

I'm really, really trying!

Do you know how they speak of you above? Do you know the venomous words they say about the Velpyre Acolyte? She is of no merit, they say. She is a worthless flame, they say. Tell me, child, what kind of acolyte would put up such resistance to a responsibility so sacred? There are those who would be humbled to stand where you do! To be blessed with what it is you possess, it is an envy shared by so many! Still, you would squander it? And for what?

I didn't do anything wrong!

Where is the grace we would come to expect from the blossom? How could we claim that for ourselves in this place? What have we done to deserve such a fate? The Velrose Acolyte is to be revered! So, too, should the Velpyre Acolyte, should she not? Would you disagree?

Please let me go!

Would you disagree, Lady Acolyte?

Please!

Where Sonata hadn't learned of Velpyre until long into adolescence, Selena learned of Sonata's home before she was old enough to write. It wasn't a lesson relayed with kindness. It came with welts, instead.

And even in the moments where Selena was granted reprieve, even in the times between her thrice-nightly torment where she was forced to choose between submission and punishment, she found little. She wandered. She slept. She gazed vacantly, most often. Where a child should have been engrossed in play, Selena was instead prodding at bruises that had yet to heal, or perhaps watching raindrops pool outside with only muted interest. She hardly ate, provided her compliance was deemed passable enough to warrant a full meal. She largely spoke when spoken to.

Can I go outside?

Why?

I…want fresh air.

Remain within sight of the church. Go no further than the steps. Should you vanish from sight, you will be found and punished. Do you understand?

Yes.

It was the closest she ever got to asking for anything personal. That, in itself, was exceedingly upsetting to witness. Even when she found the energy to make it to the front steps, she had no drive to do more than simply sit and drink in the darkened city. It was no safer outside for a child in such a hellish environment than it was within the walls of the church. Octavia wondered, for Selena, which was truly the worse option. Sometimes, her tears painted the steps. Sometimes, only her exasperated breaths, little as they were, filled the stuffy atmosphere.

There were those amongst the clergy who treated her with somewhat more kindness than others, fanatics of the flame as they were. Never once did they even remotely reach the level of true coddling for the acolyte. Octavia, too, committed them to memory them one by one. Softer eyes were notable, softer words just as such. Where some had turned to violence, some at least attempted to lead her more calmly down a path of compliance. Little by little, Selena singled them out.

She separated them. Some hit harder than others. Some were quicker to anger than others. Some were more likely to let her off with a warning than others. There was no fair reason in the world that a child should've been strategizing a path to safety in the wake of rebellion. Octavia already knew, even from the most minimal insight into Selena's short life, that the world was far from fair to the Velpyre Acolyte.

She strategized in a way that more than befit her legacy, strength flooding her veins well before Selena could conceptualize its definition.

She played.

She played.

She didn't.

She played.

She didn't.

She suffered.

She suffered.

She played.

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She didn't.

She suffered.

She played.

She suffered anyway.

Perhaps it was symbolic, or perhaps she truly still believed it to be a plausible counterattack to a role that had strangled her. It was futile to Octavia, and horrifying to watch again and again. For Selena, in eyes that she borrowed and couldn't witness herself, she might've found hope. Octavia hated to imagine how long it would take for the same hope to burn out, much like the flame herself. She had scars now. They were visible, when the Ambassador bothered to look. The amount of them that had accumulated over the course of only several short years was also horrifying.

In her moments of reprieve, she still constantly debated between resistance and compliance. It was hardly a reprieve in the most literal sense. She was spite itself, a tiny flame burning only with a spirit Octavia couldn't fathom. If she could reach out through the toll and wrap her hands around that little flame, nurturing it with the true kindness it deserved, she would've. It wouldn't have been a question.

Someone beat her to it.

I…like your clothes.

What?

They're kinda weird. Why do they look like that?

I…

I'm sorry. Was that mean?

I'm…

Are they heavy? Do they get uncomfortable?

U-Um…

As long as you like them, that's okay.

I-I…don't like them.

Why not?

I just…don't.

Can you wear something else?

I'm…not allowed.

Why not?

I'm just not.

That's not fair.

He was just as tiny as she was.

Are you lonely? You're all by yourself.

Yes.

Can I sit by you?

Why?

I want to.

Why would you want that?

I just do.

And he was every bit as vulnerable to the cruelties of the world.

Do you want to come play with me somewhere else? It's kinda hard to do anything here.

I'm not allowed to leave.

What? Why?

I just can't.

Says who?

Everyone.

What if you…don't tell them?

I'll get in trouble.

Even if we're really careful?

If I get caught, I'll get hurt. I don't want to.

They hurt you?

A lot.

That's not very nice.

Yeah.

And even so, he was every bit as kind as a child as Octavia knew him to be now.

Why are you…here? There's nothing in this place.

There's a song that gets played here a lot that I like. I can hear it from my house. I wanted to come hear it from up close, but I think I'm too early. Maybe I can wait here for it to happen.

You…like it?

Yeah. It's pretty.

The smile he gave Selena was different. It was one Octavia had never seen before.

You like my song?

That's yours? You play that?

Yeah. I play it a lot.

That's awesome! You're really good at it!

I-I…thank you.

Can I listen to you play it next time?

I can ask.

If not, I can just listen from out here. I'm sure I can hear it really well from this close.

Will you come back if I play?

I can come back anyway.

And Octavia couldn't see her own borrowed smile, but she wondered if one was there.

What's your name?

I'm Josiah. What's your name?

I'm…Selena.

She had her motivation. It wasn't spite. It wasn't unnoticed.

It wasn't as though the quality of her playing had changed, necessarily. Regardless, even Octavia could hear just the slightest difference in Selena's song--Maestra experience or otherwise. Her demeanor was more of note, her compliance more visible to those who'd sought to hunt down her breaking point time after time. She hadn't given up in full by any means, although an outside view may have painted a different picture. Of the little Octavia had gathered of the Velpyre Acolyte, she at least knew her better than that.

A handful of black and blue mementos gave way to more natural coloration, granted reprieve in a way Selena hadn't been offered in quite some time. Those that would take their place were far fewer in number. She didn't smile. It was a start, and Octavia knew from experience that she'd find one in there someday.

They still spoke poorly of her, regardless. True to her own words, there was little to be done to truly placate the greed of those who sought the flame's warmth. It was more infrequent. Their poison stung her heart on occasions fewer and more far between. It had taken submission she'd fought to avoid gifting them so desperately. Even then, that much wasn't permanent. It was surreal to expect such a young child to feel ashamed or humiliated in the face of self-made defeat. When Octavia found no emotion of the sort, then, it was a relief.

Did you…get to hear it?

Yeah. I could hear it yesterday, too.

Did you like it?

I liked it a lot.

And you'll keep coming back if I play, right? Promise?

His little laugh was far too sweet for such a bitter place. I told you, I'll come back anyway. I like seeing you.

Me?

You live here, right? I live that way. It's a little bit of a walk, but it's worth it, if you're here.

Why are you being nice to me?

Because I want to.

If you spend too much time with me, you might get hurt.

Why?

They don't like it when I'm happy.

I'm not afraid.

Her routine picked up a new stop, each and every day. Her wandering wasn't aimless. Selena ate. She slept. She still resisted, somewhat, granted, but not to the same degree. They wondered aloud, and in her fear, she hesitated. Octavia would've done the same.

You've been different as of late, little flame.

I…I don't know what you mean.

You are not so unrefined. You do not burn so uncontrollably. Follow this path, and you may very well grow to warm the blossom properly.

Um…okay.

What has changed you in this way?

What?

Your rebellious spirit is not to be dismissed, despite all who would seek to tame it. You aren't one to give in so easily. What has changed your mind, then, Lady Acolyte?

N-Nothing.

You will not be punished for the truth.

I don't believe you!

I give my word.

Even on the outskirts of explicit uprising, Selena didn't cease her self-preserving strategizing for a moment. It was strange to be privy to her thought process, careful as she was about her softer confidants. In that way, for how she, too, had learned of their faces, Octavia was her partner in crime from afar. By Selena's caution alone, it was perhaps one of the few times in her life that such trust was rewarded.

Wow, it's so big!

This is Seraphim's Call. It makes the song you hear every night, the one that I play.

And you play this all by yourself?

Yeah.

That's so cool! Can I watch from in here the next time you do it?

I-In here?

Yeah! Is it okay if I see it up close?

I-I…I don't know. What if I mess up?

I don't know how to play it, so I wouldn't even know if you did. Whatever you do, it'll be great. I know it.

Her life was small. It was caged, a tragedy behind four grandiose walls and sealed under the guise of false faith. It was largely empty, hallmarked only by a single song and one prerogative alone. Selena had so little to share, even to a boy raised under an empty sky. Still, what she did have became his. What she could show met his eyes. What she could offer, he admired with grace and awe.

It was a tiny world in which Octavia's eyes had only found sorrow and suffering, and he was so, so out of place. Like a puzzle piece dropped onto a foreign board, the way by which Josiah fit himself into Selena's life was as unnatural as it was wonderful. It didn't take long for the clergy to spot the discrepancy in much the same puzzle, more intrigued than offended.

Whatever clicked, clicked. There was no pushback. Even if she wasn't broken, even if she wasn't the submissive flame they hoped to handle, Selena was tolerable enough. She played enough. She met the threshold of freedom, for what the word could afford the Velpyre Acolyte specifically. It was enough to keep her skin unblemished, at least mostly. It was enough to keep her conversations unimpeded. It was enough to keep them away from her and close to him, whether inside her holy Hell or out.

I don't actually want to do this.

Do what?

Any of this.

What, the acolyte stuff?

Yeah.

I don't…really blame you. I don't think I'd want to do it, either. They won't let you leave, right?

And they hurt me.

I don't get why they're hurting you.

Because I don't play whenever they want me to.

You have a schedule, right?

Three times a night. If I don't stick to that, they'll punish me.

Then…why don't you just do it?

I have to do the same thing constantly for the rest of my life, and that's still not enough for them. All I ever hear about is how bad of a flame I am, or whatever. Why should I? Why should I give them what they want?

Because it keeps you safe.

Maybe it's worth risking.

I don't want you to get hurt.

It might be worth it.

It didn't matter how they grew. It didn't matter how he teased her about her height, or how she found it easier to tie her hair back rather than battle its length. Where her flame kindled their warmth, so, too, did her spite grow in tandem. Selena carried it with her everywhere, a memento of a grudge against her little world. Octavia couldn't blame her, not for how many times she still incurred their wrath. Every laceration was a battle scar. Every bruise was a war wound. Every last blow that rained down unto her head was a testament to her resolve. It was a fight Selena picked of her own accord again and again rather than surrender what was the birthright of Velpyre itself.

It surely hurt, nonetheless. Octavia came to learn exactly which of her prior scars from youth were not to heal as she aged. By eleven, there was little of Selena's body that hadn't yet succumbed to unfathomable agony at one time or another. Even if Josiah couldn't comprehend her motives, he could at least catch her burning spirit as it crashed to the earth every time.

God, it hurts! Stop it!

I can't just leave it like that!

Please don't touch it!

I don't have a choice! Stay still for a minute, okay? If I don't, it's gonna get infected, and you're gonna get sick.

What even is that?

It's first aid stuff. One of us ought to learn, at this point.

Why?

I can think of a few reasons.

Wait, stop, stop! That hurts!

Just deal with it for a second. It'll go away.

That really, really hurts! Stop it!

Like I said, you aren't exactly leaving me with a lot of options! Could you please just…pick your battles, for once?

You know why I can't! God, this sucks! It hurts too much, I can't do it! Please!

You wouldn't have to deal with this if you'd just do what they tell you! Just listen to them for once, Sel!

It wasn't all painful, at least. By now, even without a mirror, Octavia could hear her own stolen smile. She could sense it in every laugh and observe it in every joke. She was aware of its existence when he drew near, and even caught the way it lingered in his wake once or twice. Josiah was as much of a fixture as Seraphim's Call was in her life. When her hands weren't on Seraphim's Call, Selena was at his side, instead.

I can't feel anything.

Because you're not even slightly near the right place.

Are you sure you're not just, like, I don't know…dead?

Did you want me to be?

Not particularly.

Look, move your fingers to the left a little bit. Only use these two. Otherwise, you're just gonna feel your own pulse.

Is it supposed to be obvious?

It'll be noticeable.

Wait, I think I feel it! You're not dead!

Debatable.

Do mine again!

I just did yours. Are we checking to see if you're dead? Did you die in the last ten seconds?

Maybe. You can't be sure until you check.

You're so stupid. Give me your hand.

It was far, far from the only time.

Which ankle was it?

The left one.

Do you…want me to--

It's not bleeding. It just hurts. I don't think anything's broken. They got me pretty good, though.

It…sucks to see you do this to yourself over and over, you know.

You think I want this?

I don't. I know for a fact that you know what I mean.

I can't let them have their way. I'm sorry. No one else will stand up to them. There's nothing worth--there's so little in this freakin' city worth protecting.

Are you ever scared?

Every single time. It doesn't get any easier. I'm used to some of it, but it's…hard knowing exactly what's waiting for you the minute you refuse. I know it doesn't make a lot of sense out loud.

I…kinda get it.

What are you doing?

If it's too much, just…do this. And I'll…do this, so you know I'm here.

If…what's too much?

Anything. Everything. Here, practice with me.

Right now?

Yeah.

It was the first of many.

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