I hesitate to question your choices, Stradivaria's soft voice had chided her, but this may perhaps be your ruin.

I know.

You would go forth regardless?

Yeah.

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

Priscilla's tears were bitter. Her laugh was beautiful. It always would be, pure crystal offered to Octavia's heart even in the face of sorrow. Are you praising me or insulting me?

I am admiring you.

I-I…don't think I deserve that much praise from you. From a Muse, I mean.

My words are true. You have done with such conviction that which honors your legacy. I do not speak lightly when I say that you were--are--perhaps the perfect choice for such a daunting role.

You're really laying it on thick, huh? Priscilla teased with a giggle.

Your heart is beautiful.

Her blush was just the same.

Oh, gosh, uh, so are your…strings, I guess. I like your…bow. It's very pretty.

And so, too, was his gentle hum of amusement.

If you are confident that this is the correct decision, I will not stand in your way.

I mean, I'm gonna come back. Don't talk about me like I'm giving up.

I do not mean to imply as much.

Will you wait for me?

As long as I must.

Octavia knew the chest. She'd never forget it so long as she lived. It had been burned into her dreams for weeks, each facet traceable with her silent eyes. Each trickle of moss that had kissed its surface, shielded by the embrace of the earth or otherwise, was unforgettable. For every hurried step she'd taken to satiate her curiosity, Priscilla instead followed the opposite--delicately, calmly, and unrushed. Her soft touch contrasted with the desperation of Octavia's fingers, at the time. Rather than tearing out the roots ingrained into a world so misunderstood, Priscilla planted a seed with care.

She laid him to rest with all of her love, a farewell that Octavia couldn't cry for on her own. She borrowed tears that weren't hers to keep, and a broken heart she couldn't claim. With trembling hands, Priscilla surrendered her most treasured friend. In the same way, she surrendered her beloved.

If I…don't come back, though, what happens? Priscilla asked, blurring eyesight be damned.

Regret and doubt were given form, gracing his strings without objection. I will await the touch of another. Know, though, that you will never truly leave my own heart.

Can I…recommend someone?

A recommendation?

There's…someone I know who loves with everything she has. She's…small, at least right now. She probably can't even hold you correctly yet, but she'll grow up to be beautiful. I don't think she wants to be a musician, but...man, it'd be so fun if she did. Playing together would be a blast. She's smart for her age. She's a lot smarter than she should be. It's honestly kind of scary. If she were here, maybe this whole thing would be a little less intimidating. Maybe it wouldn't have been so hard to pull off. I'm not ungrateful for all the help, don't get me wrong. Still, thinking about her being a Maestra is…well, I don't know if I'd want to drag her into all this mess.

Octavia's heart sparkled on behalf of her eyes, from which her own tears were useless. Were it possible, she would cling to Priscilla's words forever. She would cling to her voice, and a smile upon lips she couldn't see. She could hear it as Priscilla spoke, and that was enough. This was enough.

She really would make a great Maestra, though. I think you'd like her a lot.

It was her who was so, so beautiful.

How will I know her?

You'll know. She's got these cute little braids.

It was Priscilla whose heart was so wonderful, so much more radiant than the light she loved.

What is she to you?

She's my sister.

It was Priscilla whose brilliant love was fierce enough to shame every star in the sky.

What would I call her?

Octavia.

It was Priscilla who was a universe in and of herself.

Should you fail to return, what words would you gift to her in your absence?

She was everything.

I love you.

And what Octavia couldn't keep to herself, what she couldn't call her own, she didn't mind sharing the same with him.

And I love you, too.

And I you.

And where she left him to rest, awaiting her own love and adoration someday, Octavia suffered for him. She was one with his pain, lamenting the loneliness of his sentenced isolation. His safety, tucked away from those who would harm him, meant so little in the absence of a heart of light. Maybe he mourned, too. Octavia had never explicitly asked. Now, more than ever, she wanted to hold him close. Even in the dark, it was a reflex to comfort him with words she so desperately wished to hear herself.

Octavia loved him. Did he love her, just the same? Did she deserve the love he once offered to a girl who outshined the sun? If she didn't, Octavia would never fault him for it.

You won't warn them?

I can't bring them into this. They don't even know.

I can't say I blame you.

Please protect her. If you can't do anything else, then just that. I'm begging you. Please.

I will do all that I can. It'll work out. It'll be fine. If he tries to hurt you, tell me.

What will you do?

I'll protect you, much the same.

Priscilla carried her love to the end.

Have you given up the fight?

I haven't. I won't.

And so, too, did Octavia.

I ask again, why?

There are people I need to protect.

And she would never let it go, no matter what Hell she saw.

Will you fight for this ambition to your last breath?

I will.

No blade that touched her, no ideals that stole her breath, no blood spilt upon her skin could ever poison a heart that transcended death.

I love you.

And it was all Octavia would ever need again.

◆ ◆ ◆

The tears that served as her final souvenir weren't wracked with suffering, and the soft sobs that gripped her were free of true sorrow. She didn't scream. She didn't speak. She didn't move. She didn't collapse to cold marble, and she didn't shatter to pieces twice over.

Octavia smiled. It wobbled, it hesitated, and it retreated again and again. It broke through every time, her forehead still pressed softly against Stradivaria's scroll.

There was a moment Octavia claimed for herself, spared from the pressure of full disclosure or expected highlights. It was respectful and widespread, with kind eyes on every side that acknowledged her pain. She knew that they knew. With certainty, they didn't know the extent. That much was between herself and Stradivaria alone. In a way, she cherished their privacy just as much. Octavia felt the words inside before she understood their weight. She didn't dare keep them to herself.

Stradivaria?

You have done wonderfully.

I love you.

And I you, Octavia.

It wasn't hard to say at all. It was natural. It was warm. She should've done it sooner.

The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

"You…really did help her," Octavia breathed at last, her voice just barely resistant to cracking.

Samuel nodded with a fragile smile of his own. "Her efforts have endured, even now. If you…truly were the Ambassador, I knew you would come to realize. Perhaps it's bold of me to say that I wasn't surprised to be correct."

It took conscious effort on Octavia's part to sever the contact with her partner, raising her forehead from the violin's scroll. "Where is that place?"

"West of Selbright," he answered. "The number has…fluctuated somewhat over the years, but it's largely remained stable."

Viola laid one gentle hand atop Octavia's shoulder. "What did you see?"

She shook her head. "I don't entirely understand yet, but I…think I get the gist of it. Am I right in assuming she got them in one place?"

Her words were for Samuel alone. The befuddlement on the faces of the Maestros wasn't subtle, regardless.

He nodded. "It wasn't a poor idea at all. A lofty one, granted, but I could understand her logic. There were ways to make such an ambition into a reality, difficult as they might've been. Were she not who she was, it surely would not have been possible."

Octavia did what she could to blink the residual tears out of her eyes. "It's not all of them, is it?"

"Not at all. However, it is a significant amount. It was the furthest we could go."

"How many?"

"Forty-seven in the settlement itself. Twenty-three that we know of otherwise."

Octavia's eyes widened. "That many?"

It was beginning to spread. Unspoken or not, the context was there. Some simply stared with wide eyes, speechless. Some struggled to string their words together.

"Are you saying that…" Josiah tried, trailing off almost instantly.

Samuel only clung to his smile. "Did you truly believe Priscilla was the Ambassador in name alone?"

Octavia could barely breathe. She wasn't the only one, if the silence nearest to her meant anything. The fingers on her shoulder tightened their grip, somewhat.

"We're…talking about the same thing, right?" Viola murmured.

"I believe so."

"Did she…witness any of their tolls?" Harper asked quietly.

Again, Samuel shook his head. "She never got that far. She was stubborn in that way. She wished to save the task for the end, when all ninety-six were at her fingertips. I suppose that was a folly on her part, and it came down upon Octavia's shoulders instead. I regret to admit that I…disagreed with that decision, somewhat."

"Because it would only make things harder down the line?" Viola tried.

"Because she didn't relieve those who sought to leave that world."

His words stole Octavia's own. For a moment, she couldn't quite process them. "Do you mean…people who didn't want to be Maestros anymore?"

Samuel nodded in silence. Octavia, too, was temporarily silent.

"Can I ask you something?" she asked.

"Of course."

Octavia hesitated. "What did you…get out of helping her?"

His smile fell to something melancholic, and it stung her heart. "There is someone I love, someone I treasure and cherish, who walks the same path as you all. I…loathe that she has to. I ask myself every day if she does, as well. When Priscilla told me of a path towards peace, I was elated. I bitterly regret what pain that…person has gone through. I can't imagine standing where they do. I pray for their happiness with every ounce of my being--the right way. Not his way."

Octavia couldn't find any words of comfort to offer him, regardless of how hard she searched. It was all she could do to press. "You know a Maestro?"

"I could not be certain he wouldn't try to hurt her, too, someday."

In the sickest way, she couldn't help but wonder if Samuel was thankful for the most gruesome act she'd ever committed. For all it had taken to do so, there was perhaps good her judgmental light had brought to the world. It was an odd time for her soul to feel at ease, for however long that would last.

"Even now, I see the way you follow in her footsteps," Samuel continued. "Should I dare to question that resolve?"

Octavia shook her head. "Don't even think about it."

His expression warmed somewhat. "Go to Selbright. Find a girl named Mina. She will show you the way from there."

"How will we find her?"

"You will know. Trust me."

Octavia smirked. "Trust is fickle."

Samuel's laugh was almost comforting, soft as it was. "That it is."

"I can't believe you and that freak were friends," Renato muttered. "You're nothing alike."

"You stayed with him, even after he hurt Priscilla," Madrigal said. "Didn't that make you sad?"

Samuel sighed. "He really did care for her. I, too, did the same, but perhaps not as much as Alessandro. I know that may be hard to believe. Even after her passing, he mourned."

His gentle eyes flickered to Octavia. "Before you depart this place, wherever that path may take you, can I show you something?"

Octavia hesitated. "In here?"

Samuel shook his head. "Outside."

He hadn't yet lied to her. He hadn't deceived her, nor attempted to do so in any way. He'd placed his faith in Stradivaria, much as Octavia had so many times over. He was so unlike his confidants. He was unpredictable, soft, privy to a world she'd held close and drowned in long ago.

As with so many things, Octavia gave in to her instincts.

The garden that blessed SIAR's courtyard was hauntingly lovely, misleading in its innocence. That which countered its bloodthirsty blossoms and hateful hues rested behind towering white, instead. Octavia had never been around the back side of the institute, nor had she ever needed to do so. For the most part, the contrast was humble.

The flora she was offered was far more muted by comparison to that which was grandiose in front. The sun had risen in full, and lingering clouds trailed her every rustling step through the grass. Shade kissed her skin, ebbing and waning in turn with warm rays from on high. It didn't matter that she was still in its vicinity. For once, beyond the cold and unforgiving walls of SIAR, she felt alive.

Drifting sunshine settled upon stone, plain and yet not. Grayed, weathered, and maintained all at once, there was undoubtedly love draping the granite. It didn't escape moss, and yet it surrendered to blossoming roses on every side. Try as they might, the deep reds of blooming petals were no match for beloved autumn long gone. Engraved adoration outlasted what oppression nature could bestow, enduring forever. Just as firm stone called them home, so, too, were they equally carved into Octavia's heart on sight.

For Priscilla.

"It was not his idea," Samuel spoke quietly from behind her. "It was mine. The words, too, are mine. They were not his to take. He didn't object, it's true. His mourning bled into my own. He really did come, and he did weep. He demanded it be maintained, and cared for where necessary. His actions betrayed his so-called love, even if he claimed otherwise."

Octavia fell to her knees. It was a slow descent, calm and laced with unexpected peace. "Is she under there?"

"No. She was buried at sea. I'm…so sorry."

His words should have burned. They should've stung. In a way, they did, biting at her hollow soul in the slightest. So many times had her heart shattered again and again that Octavia was running out of ways to hold it together. It was her fault for expecting otherwise, maybe.

She sighed. She wasn't sure what led her to ask, although she suspected the mere thought of Drey's sins to be her catalyst. "Did you…bury Cadence?"

Octavia didn't raise her head from the gravestone, content to stare down Priscilla's memorial forever. Still, she captured Samuel's soft words from behind once more. "I did. She is on the opposite side of the institute. Given how she'd spoken of her family, I…spared her the disservice of returning her body. I still question whether or not the choice was moral. No one has ever…sought her out. Some suspected she had eloped, and a debt was simply sought. I cleared her name, in that way. It was the closest she came to earning true concern. I pray that I did her justice, as her mourner and otherwise."

To alleviate his fears was the sole privilege of the Ambassador. For what she'd seen through forsaken eyes, she chose her words carefully. "I think…this is what she would've wanted. If nothing else, she can rest now. No one can hurt her anymore."

She heard nothing more of Samuel. Her own words echoed for longer than they should've. She spared a silent prayer to another so horrifically wronged in every way. Priscilla was smothered in love, both by herself and not. Overflowing as her heart was, it was simple to mourn for one who earned no love of her own. Beyond SIAR's walls, she grieved twice over.

Octavia's fingers delved into her pocket, surprisingly steady as they closed around flimsy material. Dirt was almost an insulting weight. Even so, it was an unfortunate necessity to tether the photograph to its rightful owner. In death or otherwise, she prayed it would keep Priscilla company once more.

It was by reflex that she laid Stradivaria, too, before the gravestone. Where Octavia had her reunion, there was another who grieved by her side. Silence spoke for itself.

And still, silence had so much to say.

"Hey," Octavia murmured.

Only rustling grass, surrendering to the breeze, filled the peaceful quiet that enveloped her.

"I…missed you."

Her smile was weak. It was a smile regardless.

"I…ended up becoming a Maestra. And the Ambassador. Isn't that insane?"

She could already feel the tears. They didn't hurt.

"And I wasn't scared of Stratos, either. I can't believe you dropped him. Was it really that unbelievable? You're ridiculous."

One escaped.

"I already freed some of them. You waited so long that I had to do it. I don't really blame you about not wanting to do tolls. They're not very fun."

Another.

"I made a lot of friends. They're helping me with all of the Ambassador stuff. I just like being with them, too. All of them are Maestros. Most of them, at least."

And another.

"There's this one girl who's a…she's Spirited, Stradivaria said they call it. Well, actually, you already know his name is Stratos, but I still call him Stradivaria. Is that weird? Anyway, she's really cool. She's a heroine. She's always fighting against all of the bad things in the world, and she's super fun to be around."

Each droplet left granite speckled with deep gray.

"A-And there's a boy who's Willful, which means he has fire. Did Stratos tell you that? He's really sweet and kind. He's so helpful all the time. He's nice to everybody, and he's really good at protecting people. He makes me laugh. I love being with him, too."

The roses, too, were blessed by a dew from her heart.

"There's this one guy, he talks a lot. Like, I mean, a lot. He's really strong--that's his legacy, even. He's Strong. It's kind of funny. Sometimes he gets on people's nerves, a-and he's always finding his way into trouble, but it's wonderful having him around. He's one of the bravest people I've ever met."

She couldn't help the way they struck Stradivaria's strings, the violin resting still at her knees.

"There's another boy, h-he was a Maestro for a little while, b-but he's not anymore. He's…he did have this thing called the essence of lightning, and it's exactly w-what it sounds like, you know? He's really, really smart, and he wants to b-be a doctor, so he's good at medicine stuff. H-He's actually super nice."

Octavia's voice finally cracked.

"And there's t-this one girl, you'd really like her. She's r-really smart, too."

She sniffled. It didn't help the tears.

"She's s-strong, and she's fearless, and she's the one who f-found me and showed me h-how to be a Maestra. She came all the way to Silver Ridge. Isn't t-that crazy?"

She didn't bother wiping them away, staining everything that crossed ways with her melancholy.

"She's…Soulful, and the first time s-she showed me her ice, I was so surprised. It was really p-pretty. She makes me laugh, and she makes me smile, a-and she helps me when I'm afraid, a-and she's always there for me, and I…"

She was sobbing. "I wish you could meet her. I want you to meet them."

It was soft. She was alone, and it was for the better. Octavia was aware of hats lowered slowly in respect from behind her, the contagion of her tears infecting unrelated eyes in her wake. She didn't dislike it. She didn't find discomfort in it. If anything, there was a warmth she couldn't pinpoint. It was a love at her back that warmed her, much the same as the one at her knees.

She gathered him into her arms with the utmost care, fragile and beloved.

"Both of us miss you," Octavia wept. "He misses you, too."

And it wasn't a conscious decision, the way he rose to her shoulder. It wasn't with effort that he settled into a position that had calmed her heart so many times over--whether blessed by light she could feel with her whole being or otherwise. It wasn't with conscious thought that she made him sing. She didn't have to try. Octavia blessed an unseen soul with the melody of a partner she'd long since held herself. It was a song of love, lightless and full of brilliance all at once. It was hers and his in tandem, a world of two meant for three. It was enough to hold the words close forever.

I love you.

And for once, even for a moment, she was okay.

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