Selena was a pendulum of agony and happiness, a candle burning at both ends. She was unstable, unpredictable, still just barely manageable beneath the care of those who fought to mold her. Octavia had long since lost count of how many times Selena's name had shared a sentence with that of the acolyte above, and never in a positive context. To know that the same correlation would leave her own lips someday soon stung her heart with regret. It didn't matter if she hadn't known. She knew now. That was enough for it to ache.

Every flash found Octavia flipping a coin between Seraphim's Call and Josiah. It was endless, a repeating cycle of the only two notable fixtures of the acolyte's existence. Pain was sprinkled between his companionship, granted, and yet it didn't take up quite so many fragments of Selena's memory as Octavia would've expected. When her hands didn't grace her partner's keys with reluctance and boiling spite, they were wrapped so tenderly around Josiah's own. He squeezed. She squeezed back.

What are you doing here?

I…got into a fight with my parents.

So you ran to the church to beg for forgiveness? Let your perfect and amazing and spectacular flame absolve you of sin. And beautiful, I forgot beautiful.

I can't tell if you're gonna be happy or angry about this.

About…what? What's wrong?

My family's moving to Selbright. I told them I didn't want to go, and we got into one hell of an argument. I've been talking with the clergy for the past hour. They said that as long as you were okay with it, I could…stay here. Permanently.

You…this is your chance to get out of Velpyre.

I don't care.

Why?

The look on Josiah's face wasn't for Octavia, her own eyes long since left by the wayside. It was a brilliance she still clung to on Selena's behalf. Because you're here, idiot.

And the tears that clouded Selena's eyes, in turn, only compromised his glow momentarily. She was upon him, emotional and joyful in equal measure. Whatever scolding left her mouth was empty and tainted with laughter. Even if Octavia couldn't feel warmth through the arms of another, she could sense it in Josiah's embrace and witness it in his smile. Her heart, too, was warmed by Selena's generous flame, spreading her elation to a soul she'd never again meet.

Octavia knew, logically, that Selena continued to resist. She knew, from Josiah's recounting, that the girl's suffering hadn't ceased as she aged. The abrasions and injuries that still peppered her arms and legs in every flash made that abundantly clear. Josiah, too, was not immune to suffering after he'd sunk deeper into the cracks of Selena's life. Whatever pain he claimed for himself, physical rather than collateral and emotional, always came on the heels of Selena's defense. More than once, they bled together. Sometimes, it was laughable--at least, for them. Sometimes, their humor was a bit too dark. Sometimes, that was what it took to get by.

Have you ever thought about dying before?

You know literally everyone has, right? That's normal.

Isn't your job, like, to prevent that?

You know I don't even know if that's what I want to do yet, right? But yes, I've thought about dying. Like I said, it's normal.

Have you…thought about dying any time soon?

Have you?

How long do you think we're gonna live for?

I mean, you're an angel, so you're gonna live forever.

Oh, stop it. You're making me blush.

Acolytes and angels are the same thing.

We live in Hell.

Tell me something I don't know.

I don't exactly think I'm the acolyte they'd consider an angel. They want the other one. It'd be funny as hell to switch places with her for a day. She wouldn't last a second in my shoes.

To hell with whatever they 'consider' you. You're perfect the way you are.

If…I die, you realize they'd have nothing left, right?

The clergy?

The city.

In terms of?

Maestras. Seraphim would just…be there. They could worship the freakin' thing day in and day out, if they wanted to, but they'd never hear it again. There's no Maestras left after me. I'm not having kids. At least, not in this place.

Did you want to have children one day?

Selena sighed. Octavia's vision shifted somewhat as she flung herself onto the bed. I mean, it'd be nice. I've…thought about getting married and raising a little family. I think everybody has, at some point. I sure as hell can't do it here. If I have kids in this place, I'm condemning them to the exact same fate.

Josiah smirked. I seriously hope that's not why they let me move in.

Selena blushed brightly, for the red Octavia caught splattered in her peripheral vision. Josiah snickered. When he ended up with a faceful of pillow, he only laughed harder.

Shut up, idiot! I'm serious! This whole bloodline dies with me! It's…so crazy to think about. I have that power over them, and they can't do anything about it. They're desperate. I'm all they have left. It almost feels good to know I can…take everything away from them. Whenever I want.

Where are you…going with that?

What would you do if I died?

Josiah paused. Keep all of your organs as a memento. Put them in a little jar on a shelf. Admire them daily.

What would you…actually do if I died? I'm serious.

He squeezed her hand. She squeezed back.

I think part of me would die, too. What…would you do if I died?

Kill myself.

Josiah recoiled. God, Sel, could we go down any other road, please?

I'd have nothing left. That's the truth. And I'll tell you what, it would feel so, so good to drag this place to Hell. Real Hell. Do you know how tempting it is to just…let the damn Dissonance do its thing?

Would you at least try to find something to live for?

Nope.

Seriously? There's nothing?

I…don't want to be alone again. I can't. I'm sorry. You can be mad at me about it, if you want.

I'm not mad. I just…don't really like imagining that. Like I said, angels can't die. You're…gonna live forever.

It was a thought Octavia wanted to cling to just as badly as Josiah did. Every syllable burned. There was nothing left for her to regret that she hadn't regretted already. Here, at least, she could beg for him to savor every last moment he had with the acolyte. Their hands were inseparable. Their presences were just the same.

Selena's pendulum was lopsided, perhaps by far too much. Octavia knew of the injuries. She could no longer see them happening. Instead, all she got were his jokes. All she found was his smile. All she heard was his laugh, and all she imagined feeling was his hand wrapped around her borrowed fingers time after time. It was the happiest she'd ever seen him. It was the happiest she'd ever seen Selena, just the same.

So long ago, Selena had found only pain. Now, even as Octavia sifted through every last fragment and flash of the acolyte's memories, she found only Josiah, instead.

That's stupid.

They were words to no one, offered alone in the dead of night.

No, that's stupid, too.

Accompanied only by utter darkness and a pillow clutched tightly, every word fell solely upon the air.

What if…no, that's worse. God, that's so much worse. Ugh!

Octavia was glad she didn't need to breathe, given exactly how long Selena saw fit to suffocate herself. The muffled groaning was almost comical, the vibrations of the bed as she flailed in aggravation perhaps equally so.

How do I even do this? the acolyte muttered, exasperated. I…I…damn it!

Octavia didn't envy the pillow, for the amount of torture Selena was putting it through.

I mean, like, what's the worst he could freakin' say? Besides, like--oh God. Nevermind. Damn it, damn it, damn it!

She'd heard Selena distressed many, many times over. She'd heard her pain in a myriad of different ways she'd surely never forget, no matter how badly she wanted to. This was a different flavor. It was a different tone. The way her fingers grasped at the pillowcase loosely did little to hide the tiniest of trembles.

If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

He's gonna think I'm joking.

For a moment, Octavia heard nothing. She could see faint movement, the way by which Selena's shoulders still rose and fell. She couldn't see her own lips, nor could she feel words leaving her mouth. She couldn't bear witness to the motions that came with silently breathing syllables instead, emulating speech not meant to grace her ears. Selena only clung ever tighter to the pillow, tapping her forehead weakly against the fluff.

Once, and only once, it was a whisper, pressed deep into the fabric and hidden far from the vulnerable night. In her compromised sanctuary, it was the safest place she could put it. Octavia had to strain, private as it was.

I love you.

They were words not hers to hear.

Nor were they his.

For every skillful drawing he showed her with pride, for every wound he tended to with care, for every laugh he brought bubbling up from the depths of her shattered heart, they were never his to hear.

For every time she squeezed, and every time he squeezed back, and every flash and snippet that besieged Octavia's eyes so rapidly, still, too, could Selena only smile.

For every act of rebellion, for every moment in which she raged against a cruel fate that burned her alive, Selena kept in the dark that which she never permitted to glow.

Octavia tried to focus. Her best efforts to cling to words she knew too well were in vain in the face of those she'd so carelessly stolen instead.

Shut up. You're so stupid. You're not my knight.

I could become one, if you'd let me.

I thought they said six.

You're sure it wasn't five?

I mean, I really thought they said six.

By comparison, they held so much less weight.

There is no helping this place!

I bet she would've said all this to you directly.

She wouldn't have said a word to my face. That's the kind of coward she is.

She's not a coward.

Then you know nothing about her. And you know nothing about me.

By comparison, they held so much less warmth.

You say that like the church will kill you.

They wouldn't dare. They're running out of Maestras.

There was a tremble in Selena's fingertips as her hair fell in waves along her arms. Octavia had never noticed it before. She wondered for how long she'd stared at the scar, back then. Beneath her own eyes, foreign at this distance, she felt vulnerable.

Thank you for everything.

She wasn't the one to thank.

You're the acolyte, correct? I don't believe we've met.

You know nothing of suffering.

Know your place, you worthless flame!

It was surreal, to have seen the tale from three angles now. Octavia struggled to cling to the warmth of Selena's silent confession, to block her ears out from what pain and suffering erupted from her throat instead.

Get off of her!

Josiah!

Sonata, please!

I'll kill you!

They were cries she'd heard before. It was the first time she'd heard such a flavor of agony in Selena's voice, heartbroken as it was. For the first time, just the same, Octavia was left to question its origin. Freedom no longer served as her sole suspicion.

Where is he?

It does not concern you.

Where is he?

You will not see him again.

What? Let go of me! Stop it!

Leniency was a mistake. Complacency was a mistake. How shameful, that it took the acolyte above to put our own flame in her place. You are a disgrace.

Shut up! Shut up! I don't care! Where's Josiah?

Should you disobey again, he will be killed.

Even beaten and bloodied as she was, she went limp. What?

Should you flee again, he will be killed.

Her shoulders heaved. Her breaths were ragged. Her body shook in excess, physical pain notwithstanding.

Should you attempt to see him again, he will be killed. Know this to be true.

It wasn't just the escape plan.

Things will change. Together, Lady Acolyte, we will redeem this city. You must play your part. It is not an option.

Octavia had never been so Dissonant in a toll before.

There is yet time to live up to the grace of the blossom. There is yet honor that may be restored to the flame.

It was exceedingly rare that the Ambassador was cursed with horrifically-donned veils of violet in the dark. It did happen, and it was sickening every time. Still, in one thousand ways, Selena had always been unique. Selena's eyes, blessed--rather, cursed--with the same sight as herself, offered a striking perspective of newborn agony in bloom. It was the only blossom Velpyre would ever have.

And where Octavia would've searched for the truth of the Dissonance that had annihilated a city and besieged yet another, there was so little to see out of a gaze clouded with nothing but violet and hatred. She could hear it with ease, vicious as every last screech was. If Selena knew Josiah was still down here, she wondered if it would've changed anything. She loved him, after all.

It wasn't a miracle, then, that her broken eyes on his at the foot of the steps were without rage. Octavia, too, had been spared of her wrath. She wondered, to this day, if it was by proxy. Selena loved him, after all.

And the ire and spite Selena had so carefully cultivated for years upon years spilled in full onto the blossom she loathed. It followed her hands as they grasped and tore. It followed her feet as they raced towards the acolyte. It followed every ounce of her hatred, muddied by hazy agony as it was and still every bit as memorable.

There is no worth to a flame that does not warm!

I am not worthless!

I am not worthless!

I am not worthless!

Even as Octavia's light burrowed futilely down into the depths of Selena's heart, her rage was relentless. Octavia had fallen prey to her own light once before in a toll, although under far more intentional circumstances. There had been a certain kind of Hell in the way Sonata had pleaded for her life. There had been an equal kind of Hell in the way Selena had simply struggled.

Octavia had wondered if it hurt, for how far gone Selena had been. River had mentioned the "point of no return" not so long ago, and she now thought to wonder if Selena had crossed that threshold of her own accord. It did nothing to absolve her of guilt, in passing or otherwise.

Still, Selena was perhaps numb in a different way. Josiah was here, even now, in snippets Octavia had never expected to find. They weren't distorted. They weren't compromised. They were clear as crystal, every shining memory of his voice and his smile and his laugh just as such. They were abundant. They were flashing, and flashing, and flashing. It wasn't a flash for the Ambassador's eyes alone. She loved him, after all.

And even well after she'd lunged, even well after the blossom had decided upon the death of the flame, Selena brought his visage with her all the way down. Not once did she scream, even with Sonata's own shrieks of horror plaguing her ears. Upon Selena's eyes, mired in suffering incarnate as they were, Octavia drank in the acolyte's first and last sunrise as she plummeted. So, too, did Selena imagine squeezing his hand as she crashed into the world below.

Perhaps he would've squeezed back. She loved him, after all.

◆ ◆ ◆

Octavia's tears had beaten her to lucidity. She didn't sob or scream. She barely even registered her return from the dark in the first place, her closed eyes flickering open slowly. The sun that assailed her pupils only made them water further, although she surely would've let every tear drip onto the warm bronze anyway. Her breath hitched in her throat, the lump behind it suffocating her in turn. She fumbled for her words. Where she found none, she was offered a lifeline.

"Octavia?" she heard. "Are you…alright?"

Josiah's voice was enough to make her bite her lip, quivering as it was. It had nothing to do with not breaking down in front of an Apex. It had everything to do with not breaking down at all. Octavia couldn't so much as shake her head. Her shoulders did enough shaking for the rest of her.

"A-Allison," she just barely murmured, her voice wavering, "if you're…gonna say goodbye, do it now."

The little acolyte didn't question her. The Muse that gazed down upon her without judgment, too, reserved his words. Whatever sentiments they had to offer one another were their own business. She couldn't process them. She could hardly process anything. Her breath rattled on every exhale, and her best attempts to choke back her sobs were rapidly failing. The hand that settled onto her shoulder didn't help one bit.

"Hey, are you okay?" Josiah murmured, far too close for her comfort.

She didn't dare look at him. She threw her eyes at the floor of the bell tower, her tears following the same path downwards. Octavia knew he would pry. She owed it to him, somewhat. It was still too much. It was all too much.

He offered his hand. For once, she didn't have the heart to take it.

"Please talk to me," Josiah implored gently. "I know it…probably wasn't pleasant. You're not alone, okay? I'm here for you."

Octavia couldn't bring herself to look up. She raised her voice instead, viciously shaking as it was. "V-Valkyria," she tried. "A-Are you…ready?"

Whatever moment he'd been granted with Allison had sufficed. She, too, didn't object, and it was his voice that she heard over the acolyte's. "At your ready, Ambassador. I will not offer my gratitude twice. I will, however, offer my blessings."

"Y-You, too," she struggled to reciprocate. Even raising her hand was a task, and not at all secondary to the bandages that still bound her fingertips. Every muscle had pooled with lead, weak and heavy from sorrow she couldn't escape. It was miserable.

It took effort to rest her palm upon the bell once more, even large as it was. Octavia laid her forehead against it in turn, biting back her sobs ever more. It was a trial to speak the words without her voice cracking. When she tried, they still weren't immune to the fierce wobble that threatened their sanctity.

"I have borne witness to your pain," Octavia said shakily, "and my light guides your passage from the depths of my heart."

She could feel the bell giving way, even without raising her head. She could feel the way her palm met with less resistance, her forehead greeting much the same. It still took effort for her to straighten up. The spectacle of an entire bell disappearing before her eyes was equally as resplendent as the departure of the angel above her.

For all intents and purposes, both displays of dissipating divinity, shimmering beneath the open sky, should've touched her soul. Octavia had no soul left to touch. She couldn't look directly at Valkyria, who left for Above with no further parting words. She couldn't look directly at Allison, yet another acolyte she'd pained atop the tower in her own, miniscule way.

"Octavia."

She didn't want to look at him. She didn't have a choice, for how close he was to her. Still, he battled for her hand. Still, too, she couldn't bring herself to surrender to his kindness.

Josiah pleaded as much with his eyes as with his words. "Please talk to me. Please. It doesn't have to be about that. I just want to know that you're alright. We can…deal with all of that later. It's not important right now. Are you…okay?"

Octavia was bound to the bell, for how long it would take to dissipate in full. It left her stuck, rooted in place by his gaze just as firmly. There were no words she could offer him, affirmative or negative. The highlights he'd begged for were all she'd brought along. They were all that rose to her tongue, and they were all she could curse him with.

"She loved you."

For a moment, Josiah stared her down, and she could only do the same back. Whatever sobs she'd been restraining only fought harder to escape, and she couldn't stop a handful from slipping out of her throat. The light in his eyes died.

The hand that had cupped her shoulder so gently slipped from her dress, and the fingers that had been offered to her curled inwards as he recoiled. The steps Josiah took backwards, poisonous as the gift of the Ambassador truly was, were surely reflexive. Octavia didn't blame him one bit. The glass that blighted his gaze was predictable, and it didn't hurt any less to see. To know that there was nothing she could do to ease his pain, let alone nothing she could do to stop him, was agonizing. She wondered whose agony was truly greater.

He didn't cry. He didn't sob. He didn't scream, shout, argue, or berate her. Octavia wished he would've. Instead, Josiah turned sharply on his heel and abandoned her atop the bell tower, disappearing deep into the stairwell quicker than she could think to call his name. Octavia couldn't find it on her tongue, regardless, for how dry her throat felt. All she could do was choke out the sobs he hadn't cried of his own accord.

It was an eternity before she felt nothing against her palm, a cool breeze replacing warm metal that had risen to meet her skin. It was the second time she'd caused such pain to another in this exact place. The bell was wholly unnecessary, never to toll again. Where it had stood was now only an uncanny expanse of emptiness, a vast grave for what she wished she could erase just as easily. It was here that Octavia, in the false sanctuary that was the blossom above rather than the flame below, fell to her knees once more.

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.