The way she'd made it through all three tolls not only consecutively, but while remaining emotionally stable and standing, was a victory in and of itself. Regardless, Octavia did what she could not to let her momentary pride be marred by the severity of the horrors she'd seen. It spoke to nothing of the additional emotional pain she had yet to inflict on the poor child--a child who'd seen enough, if his tolls were anything to go by. She almost didn't have the heart to look him in the eyes after the fact. It was a blessing that he knew not the exact nature of her task.

Octavia didn't feel bad for the victims in the slightest. Each and every one led an unmemorable life marked by a memorable end, well-deserved for those seeking to lay their hands upon a child. One came with a blade, two attacked with blunt objects, and all harbored the intent to kill. She hadn't expected to be quite so shaken, even after the third time she'd burnt to a crisp. It was one of the most gruesome ways to die that she could imagine, and at the hands of the youngest killer she'd ever seen. It wasn't quick.

Perhaps most remarkable was the utter lack of any light shed upon the nature of their situation. True to Holly and Ivy's words, each of the men led her no closer to a face or name that would match their violent contractor. So, too, were there no leads of which to speak towards a motive. The task of laying siege to the camp was hardly communicated in any capacity on the three separate occasions she'd inspected.

Their silence was baffling to such a degree that she likely wouldn't have known of an interloper at all, had the context not been provided by the sisters before. Perhaps it came by word-of-mouth. Perhaps she'd somehow blinked and missed it. Perhaps, horrifyingly, the scale of the crime was perceived as so unimportant that the memory wasn't worth witnessing. Octavia was no closer to an answer after three separate murders, and the lack of compensation for her troubles was incredibly frustrating.

Still, nothing stung quite so severely as the worry and pain in Domino's eyes when she was through. He seemed to recognize when her task had been finished--if not by the strain on her face, then by the way her breathing was slowly returning to a reasonable pace.

"You good?" he asked quietly. "What did you do?"

"Nothing," Octavia lied. How could she possibly tell him?

She didn't want to give him the opportunity to press her on it. Regardless, her knowledge on where to go from here was nearly nonexistent. For the tolls of the Muses in her inner circle to which she'd borne witness, she'd been bound by the virtue-exclusive promise of continued partnership throughout the duration of her task. Breileneth was not, and would not, be abiding by the same rules. It left her stuck. With her lack of experience, the actual process of liberating him was still a mystery.

"I…" Octavia began, peering up at him anxiously.

To admit to that much would be humiliating, as the Ambassador. Part of her was already embarrassed at the idea alone of taking pride in the title. She kicked herself for not having planned this part through with Stradivaria when she'd had the chance.

If he thought the same, he made no attempt to show it. He spoke to the opposite entirely. "You need not fret. Have you released one of my own from this world before, child?"

She shook her head in misery. She was, at least, relieved when he didn't laugh at her.

"It is quite alright. There is an incantation to be spoken aloud, such that the Ambassador may build the bridge between this realm and that Above. In doing so, that vessel will be no more, and I will return to the place in which I belong."

He briefly raised one finger towards the harmonica, still cradled delicately in Domino's clammy palms. Domino winced. Octavia nodded.

"'I have borne witness to your pain, and my light guides your passage from the depths of my heart.' Ambassador, you will rest your touch upon that vessel, and repeat these words at your ready."

Octavia took one deep breath, resting her trembling fingers on the cool steel of Broken Bliss as her heart pounded.

"I have--"

"Goodbye," Domino interrupted softly. "Safe travels and…all that. It was nice meeting you."

When her eyes flickered to him, his unshed tears weren't subtle. Her heart ached. Octavia considered holding him tightly, if that was something that would bring him any semblance of comfort.

"And you as well, Domino," Breileneth replied. "You have my blessing. Live a prosperous life."

Octavia never had the chance to repeat the incantation. "To you, Ambassador," the Muse continued, "I have one final question, if you would permit me."

She blinked. "O-Of course."

"What Muse serves as your guide?"

Octavia tilted her head ever so slightly. "My partner?"

He nodded. She couldn't stem the smile that came with her answer, her heart warm with his name alone.

"Stratos."

Breileneth hummed softly, a tiny sound of affirmation that vaguely reminded her of Stradivaria. "Interesting. He would serve as a fine guide, indeed. Please give him my regards."

Confused or not, Octavia still nodded, ceaseless smile and all. "I will."

When she found no further input from neither Domino nor Breileneth, their silence served as permission. Once more, she took a deep breath, closing her eyes for a moment as she steadied her racing heart. She wasn't sure if this was something she could truly mess up--that remained to be discovered the hard way. With as much confidence as she could muster, she gave him the words he had surely sought for far longer than she could imagine.

"I have borne witness to your pain," she spoke firmly, "and my light guides your passage from the depths of my heart."

What followed wasn't quite the instant disappearance that came with Stratos and his kin surrendering their visible forms. Instead, it was muted. In a slower, softer display that was far kinder to her eyes, Octavia watched as shredded sparkles of that beautiful scarlet were shed in earnest. Breileneth unraveled, every aspect of his glory sprinkling the air with crimson dust. His own disappearance was gentle, and every sparkle seeped into Octavia's heart.

Just as she'd borne witness to the worst he'd had to offer, she soaked in every moment of his luminous departure without words. From what would have been his lower extremities--had he truly bared the form of a human--each and every atom of brilliance parted ways, shimmering and dispersing into nothingness from whence it had come. Up and up the chain reaction rose, devouring his torso, fingers, and shoulders. It felt like far too soon that each speck of radiance comprising his head began to twinkle and fade amongst the sunshine.

Identically, so, too, did his body--the vessel she'd called Broken Bliss. Still resting tenderly upon Domino's palms, the harmonica disintegrated in the exact same fashion, devoured by an unseen void from every angle. Each metallic inlay surrendered, as did each glimmer beneath the sun. Even the Harmonial Crest itself wasn't immune to the reckoning of the end, an eternal presence finally granted peace. Where the harmonica slowly and ultimately faded, Domino's fingers curled inwards beneath the sudden weightlessness in his hands. Octavia, too, twitched at the feeling of much the same, her fingertips brushing against empty space alone.

In his last moments where she could see Breileneth, his departure was lovely in its own way. He was a dying star, fizzling to a delicate and glorious end aloft. It was no true end, and of that Octavia was well aware. Rather, he was bound for that where he was meant to be. It was a wonderful feeling. Even now, Octavia still hadn't pinned down exactly what a Muse truly was--sound, light, or something else entirely. For at least a moment, in the wake of his departure, it didn't matter. Wherever Above was, she wondered if Breileneth could see them from there.

It was worth a try. Octavia raised one hand aloft, offering a quiet and half-hearted wave to the open air. That was one. It left ninety-five. If that was genuinely all it took, she wondered if he'd be lonely when he got there.

When she found the strength to tear her eyes from where Breileneth had awaited moments ago, they came to rest upon Domino instead. Willing or not, he'd openly set free his unrestrained tears. They slid down his cheeks, and he gazed at that empty spot much the same with twinkling eyes.

"Are you alright?" Octavia asked softly.

Her words were enough to make him jolt, and he smeared his tears hastily against the back of his hands. Domino cast his eyes at the ground, his face stolen from her view in an instant. "I'm fine," he muttered.

"You did great," she offered, just barely managing to summon a smile. "I'm proud of you."

He sniffled. "You don't even know me."

"Domino?"

Octavia didn't get the opportunity to reassure him, let alone find an answer at all. Harper beat her to it.

His name, particularly in that voice, made the boy flinch. Domino buried his newly-emptied hands into his pockets, just barely turning his head. "What?"

Harper, it seemed, had completed his rounds of attending to each and every tiny victim of the fire. Given the lack of panic on his face, Octavia could safely and miraculously assume that no casualties had occurred. Still, his eyes were flooded with worry, Royal Orleans nowhere to be found in his own naked hands. He didn't press any further, content to stare wordlessly at the young boy instead.

Domino shrunk under his gaze, his eyes narrow and his fingers curled into fists. "What do you want from me? What are you expecting me to say?"

Harper took one step towards him. He took another, and another, firmly and quickly in silence.

Domino took several steps backwards in turn, gritting his teeth. "How many times do you want me to say I'm sorry?" he growled. "What else do you want me to--"

His lips met Harper's shoulder, because his head just barely rose past the boy's chest. His words screeched to a halt, because the sudden warmth around him served to blunt his pain. His eyes went wide, because Harper's own swam with tears.

"Are you okay?" Harper whispered, embracing the boy tightly.

Domino didn't move, nor speak, for several seconds. Instead, he began to tremble in just the slightest, his face still buried against Harper's shoulder. His ragged breaths were audible, and he stiffened.

"No," he finally answered, his voice cracking.

Harper rested his forehead against Domino's hair, the brim of his cap sandwiched between his own skin and the boy's abundant curls. "You were fantastic. I'm so proud of you."

Even if Octavia couldn't see Domino, she could hear his muffled sobs. He raised his shaking hands in the slightest, tentatively returning Harper's embrace as he settled them upon the Maestro's back.

"I'm glad you're safe," Harper breathed. "And I love you."

Domino almost seemed to sob harder, his fingernails digging gently into Harper's clothes. "I love you, too," he whimpered.

Octavia didn't notice her eyes were watering until she felt her cheeks grow wet. She beamed through it all.

"Everything okay?" Viola asked from behind her.

Had Harper's return not reminded her of the presence of other Maestros, Viola's sudden approach would've likely stopped her heart. Instead, she managed to nod long enough to stem her interloping tears. "Yeah. We're all good."

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Viola didn't immediately offer Stradivaria to its rightful owner, continuing to cradle the instrument against her dress. Octavia didn't mind. In Viola's arms, in particular, Stradivaria was surely comfortable enough. "Did you…you know…?"

Octavia tilted her head. "'You know'?"

Viola winced. "Tolls?" she tried.

Octavia scoffed in the slightest. "I, uh, did a little more than that."

"What do you mean?"

"The…the next part. After the tolls."

"The next…" Viola began, trailing off. When her eyes suddenly went wide, Octavia was torn between whether to shrink under her glare or laugh about it.

"Harper has people stalking this place," Viola hissed, "someone lights it on fire, there were two new Maestros in the last twenty-four hours, I had a…you, you just…"

The growl of aggravation that followed landed one of Viola's hands in her hair, her agitated fingers slowly tangling their way into her locks. This time, it was enough to get a mild laugh out of Octavia.

When Viola pointed Stradivaria's bow at her threateningly, it was no longer mild. Even when she was angry, she was fun to watch.

"We need to talk. All of us. Now."

Viola had come to label the sudden summons an "emergency meeting", although it seemed casual enough. Ultimately, it wasn't much different than their usual faire, by which they finally returned to the manor after one of the longest days Octavia had suffered through in a while. With no offense to Harper, being back within four safe, warm walls and with the promise of a bed to sleep in tonight was reassuring. It was only noon by the time they'd returned, and yet Octavia could've easily slept for hours. She absolutely couldn't imagine how Harper was holding up, at this point, nor how he wasn't completely falling asleep in the chair next to her. She assumed it was the coffee.

"That's like, what, your fifth cup?" Octavia hissed.

He smirked. "And, in the event of an emergency, there will be a sixth, if you want me to be conscious for it."

She didn't protest when he simply sipped at the teacup in lieu of additional sass. The tableware was somewhat too fancy in contrast to the unrefined nature of the person who drank from it. In his defense, he wasn't the only one who didn't routinely fit in with the elegance of Viola's dining room.

"These actually aren't that bad," Renato said, his elbows resting comfortably on the mahogany. In one hand was a perfectly-triangular sandwich slice, his fingers carefully adjusted to accommodate soft food. "Do you have salt? It'd be a bit better with some salt."

"It's perfectly fine the way it is," Viola snapped. "You're lucky I fed you at all. Just eat the damn sandwich."

He shrugged. "Hey, I said it's not bad, I'm just sayin' there's room for improvement. From one chef to another, you know? This is cooking, right? Technically?"

Still in the process of serving food, her hands full with a well-balanced tray, she had little room to physically reprimand him in any capacity. Regardless, she was passing by much too close to him on her way to Josiah. "I can and I will dump this whole thing on top of you. I said eat."

Renato grinned, raising his hands in mock defeat. "Yes, ma'am."

Josiah was largely quiet as he received his small meal, holding his cup steady for Viola to fill to the brim with piping-hot coffee. "Thank you," he muttered.

The look of disinterest on his face was somewhat unnerving. It stung Viola the moment she caught it. "You're welcome," she answered a bit too quickly.

Across the table, the sounds of shuffling and clinking tableware drew Octavia's attention instead. Madrigal's focus was of a different nature entirely. Octavia watched as the Maestra delicately and precisely divorced each browned, crusted strip of soft perimeter from both of her sandwich slices in turn. With thick, flaky crumbs raining down onto the porcelain below, it was a miracle she somehow managed to keep the entire inch-thick line of bread intact in the process.

"You don't like the crust?" Renato asked.

Madrigal shook her head. "Not on this kind of bread. Any other kind of bread is fine."

Viola lowered the tray down onto the table, the excess coffee and sandwiches surprisingly steady with her gentle movements. "Do you want me to make you something else? I don't mind."

Madrigal beamed at her instead, two happy hands now comfortably filled with Viola's culinary creation. "It looks delicious. I'm excited to eat anything you make for me. I love cucumbers, too!"

Viola returned her smile, albeit softer. In lieu of returned words of appreciation, her attention instead fell to more stray noise--this time, the subtle rustling of paper, leafy and muted all the same. It was the first sound Josiah had offered up in some time.

"Wha' ah ya do'in?" Madrigal asked in between bites of her sandwich, either blissfully unaware or unfazed by her mouthful of food.

"Keeping an agenda. If it's a meeting, someone should jot down whatever's important, because I have a feeling it's gonna be a lot. I'm playing secretary, I guess," he answered with a tired sigh.

"A man of many talents," Harper joked, finally giving his concerning coffee consumption a momentary rest.

Renato smirked. "Damn, do you think he's single?"

Harper snickered. Octavia, too, would've likely found the quip humorous, were it not for the way Josiah didn't. He stared blankly at the fresh, naked pages of his open journal, fiddling absentmindedly with his pencil instead. Not a hint of a smile or the slightest grin crossed his lips, nor did any joy tint his eyes in passing. Even if Renato was infinitely annoying, it wasn't like him to just ignore the boy's jeering. Octavia shifted in her seat uncomfortably.

"Then let's get started, I guess," Viola said, the moment lost on her. She settled down into the remaining chair beside Octavia, her own self-served food and drink awaiting her presence.

"What did you want to talk about, exactly?" Octavia finally asked. She'd been meaning to for hours, in truth.

Viola groaned, her hands already making a straight path for her head once more. "I have absolutely no idea where to start."

"Start with the guy whose whole camp place caught fire," Josiah suggested, lazily spearing the eraser end of his pencil at Harper.

At the mention of his situation, Harper pursed his lips. "Is there that much to say about it? I think everyone kinda got the picture first-hand."

"Context," he clarified.

Octavia had forgotten that only she and Harper knew the full story behind the catastrophe. Harper sighed. "Two people I have a very poor relationship with were, apparently, paid to burn the camp down. Don't know if it mattered if people were there. Don't know why it was specified that it had to be burned down instead of just destroyed."

"Paid by who?" Renato asked.

"I…honestly have no idea. Haven't figured that part out, and I'm getting a bit frustrated at how no one seems to actually know. It sounds kinda like a word-of-mouth thing. 'This person said this person will pay you'-type of deal," he continued, gesturing with his hands. "There were people before them, too. Multiple. This was going on for weeks, just a bunch of people trying to destroy the same place."

Josiah raised an eyebrow. "And all of them were trying to burn it down, specifically?"

Harper shook his head. "I don't know if all of them had the same idea, but the last two definitely did."

"How did everyone stay safe?" Madrigal tried, finally free of sandwich-flavored interruptions.

"Am I justified in taking a shot in the dark, here?" Viola interjected, eyeing Harper from several seats away.

Harper nodded. "Yeah. There's a kid that lives with me--kind of. You guys met him. You…already know where this is going, probably. He got his hands on a Harmonial Instrument, and he spent basically a month dealing with this whole…situation."

"He kill anyone?" Josiah asked coolly.

"Josiah!" Viola hissed.

"You know exactly why I'm asking."

Viola's glare was somewhat dulled by Harper's reassurance. "It's fine. He did, yes."

"How many?"

"Three."

Josiah's sharp eyes flickered to Octavia. "And did you already…"

She nodded uncomfortably. "Yeah."

The room was silent as he scribbled in his journal, the scraping of his pencil impossibly loud in the tense atmosphere. It was almost awkward. Octavia winced.

"I did a bit more than that," she murmured under her breath.

It wasn't quiet enough to elude Viola. "Can we talk about that part? Whatever 'that' is? Did you actually--"

Octavia raised her palms in front of her defensively. "I'm gonna be honest with you, I think I want Stradivaria here before I get into that mess. I need to…clarify some things."

Madrigal blinked. "Stradivaria? Why do you need Stradivaria?"

"You think our meeting could benefit from a few more attendees?" Harper offered.

"That depends on if I have to make more sandwiches," Viola muttered. "I know it's a big room and all, but this place is about to get pretty crowded pretty quickly."

When Octavia fixed her with a just-barely pleading glance, Viola sighed. She relented, leaning over to unbuckle Silver Brevada's case tucked beneath her chair. "Fine."

"Instruments at the table? Seriously? You people have no manners," Renato scolded.

It had more or less worked out that the violin hadn't left her side yet. Taking great care not to hit her head against the edge of the table, Octavia, too, slowly unzipped Stradivaria's case beneath her feet. "It's not our fault yours are so small. Anyway, out with 'em."

Renato rolled his eyes playfully, not immune to the tint of a grin that snuck onto his face. With a dramatic flourish, he withdrew Mistral Asunder from the interior of his vest, setting the instrument before him with a bit too much force.

Cognizant of the others doing much the same, Octavia gazed into her cup of coffee, watching the way it rippled with each motion every Maestro made against the table. She wasn't quite sure how to start this conversation once he was here.

"Do you seek my assistance?"

The bright flash of the softest gold out of the corner of her eye was her only warning of his presence--more than likely behind or above her. Still, she didn't look up immediately, content with his voice from here. It was rare that he spoke to her first, and she partially wondered to what she owed the occasion.

"Did I do it right?" she murmured.

"What is it you have done, Octavia?" Stratos asked calmly.

She'd completely forgotten. During her entire ordeal with Domino, he'd been snugly in Viola's arms, distant from the scene. She had no formal way of saying the truth out loud in a way that wouldn't spark controversy from the myriad of onlookers in the room. She was particularly concerned about the glowing ones who had gradually, in brilliant bursts, flickered into the loaded conversation waiting to happen.

"I let him go," she nearly whispered. "Breileneth."

"Breileneth?" Lyra and Brava practically exclaimed in tandem, their shocked voices loud enough to make Octavia wince.

"You have met with Breileneth?" Stratos asked, his own quieter voice still tinged with its own flavor of surprise.

Octavia nodded. "He says hi, by the way."

Stratos hummed as always, a short and curt sound that carried tension in place of its usual warmth. She didn't particularly like it.

"And as to you," Brava snapped, turning his head sharply towards Orleanna. "Were you aware of his presence? Have you known it was he, all along?"

Orleanna, clinging close to Harper's seat, nodded solemnly. "I could not be mistaken. Be that as it may, our own take precedence over our emotions. We must focus on what is necessary. He, too, would have concluded the same."

"Octavia," Viola interrupted, "what are they talking about, exactly?"

She blinked. "I don't…actually know."

"Ambassador, do you mean what you say?" Brava asked, his volume just a bit too much for her to handle. "Have you truly guided his path?"

"Guided?" Octavia repeated. That was new.

"Am I correct in assuming that was the nature of your action?" Stratos tried in his stead. "You have 'let him go', have you not?"

Octavia nodded, albeit highly confused. "I…think? He showed me how. It was the tolls, like always, and then I just had to touch the actual instrument and say something he told me to. I don't remember all of it. Then he just…disappeared, but slower?"

Her description was not solely shocking to the Muses who surrounded her, their vibrant glows speckled with iridescent wonder and aghast of their own accord. The room had practically frozen over, breaths bated and words absent. Eyes were wide. At least two people had become utterly still, sandwich slices still aloft in their hands in an almost comical display. She could see it sink in.

"You…freed one of them?" Viola finally asked, her voice shaking in the slightest.

Octavia was aware that the discussion would be awkward. She hadn't been expecting it to be quite this severe. She shrunk in on herself, resisting the urge to curl into a ball under dozens of eyes. "Was I…not supposed to?"

"This is…wonderful," Lyra breathed. "Ambassador, take no shame in your actions. Rather, be proud of the service you do not simply to your legacy, but to our kind as a whole. We are in your debt, as is he most of all. He has returned to his rightful place. He now sees this world from Above, as was meant to be."

"Oh my God, you freed one of them," Viola repeated.

Renato whistled. "That's…wow. Good God, Tavi, you're killin' it. Keep it up."

"You're amazing!" Madrigal cheered, hands high in the air with a sandwich slice in tow. So quickly did she raise them that a slice of cucumber nearly hit Renato in the face as it slid out of place. "At this rate, we'll be all done before we know it!"

Harper ran one hand through his bangs, his eyes glued to the table alone. "That was…Domino's, then?"

"Yeah," Octavia answered plainly.

"Is he defenseless now? Against the Dissonance, I mean?"

When Harper lifted his eyes to hers, loaded with concern, Octavia's stomach lurched. She knew the consequences of erasing Broken Bliss in terms of resisting mortal threats, at least. Of that, there was always an alternative, gruesome or otherwise. Safety from Dissonance was a separate concern. There was a singular option, and she'd ripped it straight from his young hands without a second thought--immediately after the ordeal with Ivy. Her heart could've stopped. She'd made a mistake. She couldn't undo it.

Slowly, in abject terror, she raised her head towards Stratos. She wanted to vomit.

To her incredibly immense surprise, he shook his head. "That is not necessarily so. Above, we are restored to the grace we once possessed. We are strong together, this is true. Even so, there is still something to be done by the hands of one alone."

Octavia blinked. "What are you saying?"

"Breileneth will play his part in salvaging what has been damaged," Stratos clarified. "To what he can offer, he will serve to protect that which his own holds dearest within."

Harper's eyes widened. "He's going to stop the Dissonance by himself?"

"That which besieges only what the boy treasures alone," Brava added. "Such is our apology, upon which we have agreed for the sake of the Ambassador."

"A…pology?" Viola asked tentatively.

Octavia knew the word. She had a vague suspicion of the downward spiral it led to. If she was trying to dodge opening chaos-filled boxes, Stradivaria's--rather, Rani's--story was meant to be sealed and stuffed in the deepest recesses of her to-do list.

"Is that the case for every Maestro?" she asked instead, desperate to change the subject.

Brava nodded. "To each of our own, we will endeavor to defend that place which each carries closest to their heart."

His wisdom was interrupted, yet again, by the incessant scratching of pencil against paper. Octavia wasn't sure what Josiah was taking note of, at this point. Even so, she vaguely wondered what it was that Domino held most dear. It wasn't immediately obvious where she would choose, should she be given the choice. She roughly suspected, in the former case, that the boy might've opted for the camp. In her own instance, she wondered if she'd be granted permission to choose where those she cherished were. She wondered if she'd be able to choose at all. It was a concept more troubling than comforting.

"Is he gonna keep seeing Dissonance forever?" Harper asked nervously. "I know it sounds like it won't really be a problem for him anymore, but if it's ever near him again…is he gonna have to see that for the rest of his life?"

"It is…an inescapable curse," Orleanna offered. "What has been awakened cannot be taken away. It pains me to say so, but the boy is afflicted with the burden of sight he will never shed."

Harper's face fell rapidly, his hands balling into fists with or without his knowledge. Octavia found herself pressing her palms to the tabletop with more force than she'd anticipated. Hefty promises or not, whatever kept hope on his face was worth it.

"T-Then we'll get rid of the Dissonance as quick as we can, so there's nothing left for anyone to see."

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