She’d had her space. She’d given them theirs. If she’d had time to grieve, then surely this was their opportunity to do the same.

  Blurred as Octavia’s vision was, blighted by tears she didn’t bother to stem, she was an executioner set to bring pain where she wished to bestow it the least. Where she’d hesitated so often to sever the bonds shared between soulmates that never should’ve been, her heart threatened to shatter four times over.

  With the way their eyes drifted to her collectively--glistening, disheartened, sorrowful all at once--Octavia was aware that they knew of the inevitable. They’d known of it the moment Stratos had first spoken to her, the moment her title had first been bestowed. They’d had time. She’d given them as much as she could, and she slowed her steps desperately. Quiet as they were, it meant little.

  It didn’t matter who she started with. She would hurt them all, one by one.

  “I…guess this is it, then.”

  “It is.”

  “You gonna miss me?”

  “I shall.”

  Octavia did everything she could to gift him with what final precious moments he could scrounge together. She knew he knew. His attention was on the Muse alone, and that was how it should’ve been. The idea of breaking his heart was torturous. She didn’t have a heart of her own left to ache over it.

  “I, uh…I’m not sure exactly what to say,” Harper admitted, averting his eyes shyly. “I’m not really the best at goodbyes.”

  Orleanna tilted her head. “Is this truly a farewell, though?”

  He chuckled. “I mean, you’re always gonna be there, right? Can you see me from Above?”

  “I could attempt.”

  His smile was soft, his touch upon Royal Orleans equally so as he held her vessel close. “Tell Seliza she better leave you alone, or I’m gonna come up there and deal with her myself.”

  The sound of amusement Orleanna returned to him was just as soft in turn. “She would not take kindly to such intervention, I would believe.”

  Harper shot her a playful wink. “Tell her she’s got competition, then.”

  For a moment, they drank in one another’s happiness, brief as it was to be. Octavia refused to believe he was satisfied, for how long he’d held her close to his heart. She was correct. His smile slipped somewhat.

  Harper’s gaze fell to Royal Orleans instead, cradled gently in his hands. “I’m…sorry I wasn’t better to you. Fire hasn't exactly done me a lot of favors in life up until now. I never meant to take that out on you. You were warm, and you were good to me. I…loved your fire. I loved the way it made me feel. I’m sorry I ever took you for granted.”

  Orleanna shook her head. “Never once have I felt that your love was not true. I bitterly regret all that has wronged you. I…wish it were not so. I will always pray for your happiness.”

  “I am happy.”

  The Muse watched him quietly. His smile was delicate, offered to her alone.

  “Because of you, I got to meet people I’m going to cherish for the rest of my life,” he said. “I was…already happy with what I had, but I can’t imagine myself anywhere except where I am now. I also got to meet you, and that made me just as happy.”

  Harper paused. “And I…hope I made you happy, too. And I hope you’ll be happy up there again.”

  Orleanna nodded in the slightest, muted as the motion was. “You are…wonderful, my child. You have brought me happiness.”

  His eyes glistened as he raised the brass of Royal Orleans to his lips, brushing them tenderly against the metal with a fleeting kiss. “Take care of yourself, okay?”

  “I say the same to you.”

  Harper fought for a smile through the shimmer that threatened his gaze. The one he found was still just as warm as Orleanna’s touch. “I love you,” he murmured.

  “I adore you, my child,” she offered back.

  He didn’t battle Octavia’s approach. He didn’t dismiss her, nor did he plead with her. She hadn’t necessarily expected him to. If anything, Harper met her with much the same smile that she only half-believed to be genuine. As to whether it was for her, broken as she was, or residual for the Muse still shining down on him from above, she was unsure. He held Royal Orleans close one last time as the Ambassador met his gaze in full, her own eyes shimmering with something far more shattered. Octavia struggled to steal his warmth. Part of her was glad she'd started with him first.

  “Hey,” Harper offered, simply and softly.

  She couldn’t breathe. She could hardly give him a response at all, her eyes flickering back and forth between the glistening gold in his hands and the Willful boy’s face. Still, Harper met her with a gentle gaze and an even gentler smile. Her pain wasn't subtle, and she knew that well.

  It was him who stepped closer instead, the tips of her boots kissing the tips of his shoes in turn. Octavia could feel his warmth, more so welcoming than startling. The brim of his cap brushed against her forehead, for how near he stood. She didn’t hate it.

  “Do you…remember the first time you met her, too? I had absolutely no idea what the hell I was doing,” Harper said quietly, his smile never fading.

  Even if Octavia couldn’t find the drive to respond, he continued regardless. “I don’t know if I ever would’ve figured it out on my own. I mean, not that I necessarily wanted Domino to end up messing with you, but I’m honestly…glad he did.”

  When Octavia's eyes widened in the slightest, he tilted his head endearingly. “Not just because of Orleanna, either. You brought me to…all of this. This is the happiest I’ve ever been in my life. I know we’ve been through some pretty awful stuff, but this is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Maybe it’s strange to be happier about that than anything, but I can’t help it. As weird as it’s gonna be to not be able to do all of this crazy fire stuff anymore, I’m glad she gets to go home, and I’m glad I get to keep…you.”

  And as he lifted his hands aloft, the trumpet resting tenderly upon his palms before her, the same smile glowed warmer than any ember he could ever make. “Would you…do me the honors?”

  Under no circumstances could Octavia bring herself to match his warmth. Still, she could do the one thing she did best. She rested her trembling fingers atop the still-cooling brass of Royal Orleans delicately, savoring the sensation beneath her skin. She wondered if Harper had already done the same a dozen times over. If not, she hoped he’d do so in the final moments he had. She inhaled deeply.

  “Ambassador.”

  Octavia never made it that far. With her touch still resting on the trumpet, she lifted her head to the scarlet Muse above. Orleanna gazed down at her, luminous hands folded neatly together in a manner just as calm as it was timid.

  “I…apologize for the way by which we have wronged you. In our pursuit of a path to Above, it is you who has paid the price. To lay the burden of guilt upon the Heartful alone would be unjust. Still, know that we truly did…not know of the end to come. In my return, I wish only that you would lead the life you were intended to cherish.”

  Octavia risked battling tears for a different reason entirely.

  “We were never meant to touch this realm,” Orleanna went on. “That we would interfere yet further is unthinkable. For that, I deeply regret what has come to pass.”

  She meant the Ambassador, probably. It was still double-sided, and the other side could’ve crushed Octavia where she stood.

  “Upon our departure, I pray that all will be as it was. I pray that you will…also cherish the love that has been given to you, whether or not it is seen.”

  That, too, was double-sided. She was shaking. It was all she could do to nod, and the silence that followed was permission enough.

  “I have borne witness to your pain,” Octavia began, her voice still cracking slightly, “and my light guides your passage from the depths of my heart.”

  If Harper had an issue with her wavering tone, he said absolutely nothing. Instead, he was content to cast his gaze high above, motionless so near to her as Octavia embraced the weightlessness she’d grown to know well. He steadied the instrument carefully with one palm, raising his free hand in a gentle wave to the glistening scarlet that sprinkled the air above freely. The smile he offered to the Muse instead was something far more strikingly aflame than what he’d warmed Octavia with.

  He saw off Orleanna with only glimmering eyes and well-controlled sorrow to match, and Octavia was sincerely impressed with his composure. She wanted to cry on his behalf, for what she wondered if he was restraining for her sake. She did, somewhat, unable to battle the stray tears that bubbled up and spilled over as she watched Orleanna’s sparkling passage with respect. She savored every last shimmer.

  And when Octavia’s hands met with nothing in full, Harper didn’t abandon them as her fingertips settled delicately into his. Instead, his own fingers curled inwards, cupping her touch delicately. Again did his eyes meet hers, soft once more with the same gentle smile to match. It glowed in turn, his sparking fire tamed into something comfortable. The words she’d offered to Orleanna were the most Octavia could manage, for how her heart still ached. Harper didn’t let her go.

  “You’ve been through a lot. You've gone...so far for everyone who needed you the most. I know aaaaall of them have probably said ‘thank you’ a million times at this point,” he joked with a playful roll of his eyes. “I’m guessing you’re sick of hearing it, so consider this an alternative.”

  Octavia’s heart skipped a beat the moment Harper leaned in close, his lips touching upon her cheek as delicately as she could imagine. They, too, were just as warm as he was. He took his time, and it was more than enough for her skin to run hot beneath the place he laid his gentle kiss. She wondered if he felt it. She wondered if he cared.

  When he pulled away, it was almost a relief that he was as red as she was. Granted, the brilliant blush that scattered across his cheeks was taken with stride far beyond her own, for the smile he continued to offer her. Still, Harper averted his eyes for a fleeting moment. “Whether it’s a…good alternative is debatable. No matter what happens from here on out, you’re always gonna have me. I’m always going to be here for you if you need me. And I get lonely, so for God’s sake, please need me every now and then, alright?”

  Octavia couldn’t smile. She wanted to. His embrace was enough, and she sank into it in full as Harper wrapped her up much the same. She could’ve stayed forever, given what was to come the moment she pulled away. He knew, and she was aware that he knew. For how he cupped her cheek gently, it was a respectable effort at spilling his confidence.

  “You’ve got this. They’ll understand,” Harper reassured. “You’re almost done, and I’m…so proud of you. We all are. You can do it.”

  Leaving him was miserable, abandoning the warmth of his touch even more so.

  Ninety-seven became three.

  For what she was to tear out from underneath him, Octavia couldn’t walk slowly enough. Her soul burned in the worst way. To steal from the boy, specifically, was a twofold curse. Every step was a nightmare.

  It wasn’t obvious by the way he was stretching nonchalantly and grinning without a care. “God, finally. You guys drive me absolutely insane. Hurry up and get out of here so I don’t have to look at you anymore.”

  Octavia knew it to be a farce. She knew him better than that.

  “I assure you, the burden was mutual,” Mente bit back coolly.

  “And so continues to be,” Aste added.

  Renato rolled his eyes with a playful smirk. “Nah, you can’t pull that. You guys had your chance to leave, and you didn’t. You like me. Admit that you like me, and we can put this whole thing behind us.”

  “You are arrogant, and that has not changed in the slightest.”

  “And you burn with pride far beyond that which you deserve.”

  “You are rash.”

  “And your decisions are…questionable.”

  Renato waved both halves of Mistral Asunder teasingly. “And you both staaayed,” he sing-songed.

  “You are, perhaps…one of the most brilliant of your legacy.”

  “As we are regretful to say.”

  Renato’s face fell. “Come again?”

  Mente and Aste were hesitant in unison. They took turns. It was softer than Octavia had ever heard them speak, let alone to the Maestro they claimed to detest.

  “You are…incredibly gifted. You always were.”

  “The passion in your blood was remarkable.”

  “To our immense frustration, your demeanor eclipsed your skill.”

  “You would shame those who we have called our own long before.”

  “You are flawed, for a human, and in every way, for your personality.”

  “For your legacy, you are…perfect.”

  Renato was speechless. The cherry oak fingers that wrapped so tightly around the same trembled somewhat, and his wide eyes were inseparable from the two Muses who showered him with praise.

  “God, you guys are really gonna try to get on my good side at the very end?” he joked, his voice wavering.

  “We speak as we mean,” Mente reassured gently.

  “And we mean to say that you are the strongest of your kind we have ever met,” Aste finished, just as gentle.

  “And that was…”

  “Worth a second chance.”

  His eyes watered.

  “I-I…was so sure you guys thought I deserved it,” Renato murmured shakily. “I was terrified of losing you. I didn’t want it to end like that. I loved being with you two. E-Every time I fought, it felt so good. I really, really loved being a Maestro. I’m just…sorry you got stuck with--”

  “You are not broken.”

  Only now did his tears spill, sliding softly down his cheeks as he watched them with awe. “W-What?”

  “You are perfect as you are.”

  Every breath caught a sob that went unshed. Renato clung to what composure he could keep, not bothering to wipe away what tears dripped down into his false hands. It was all he could do to breathe in the first place.

  “To battle so valiantly on behalf of another is of the highest admiration,” Aste spoke.

  “And you have braved your most ruthless fears with the very strength that burns in your blood,” Mente continued.

  “You, who knew not so much as our names…”

  “Could not know us in the way we have known you.”

  “And we know you well.”

  “We knew of your heart.”

  “We knew of your soul.”

  “We knew…”

  “You would stand again.”

  Renato no longer bit back his sobs. He set them free, never tearing his eyes from the Strong Muses above.

  “Thank you guys,” he wept, his voice cracking. “For everything.”

  They were quiet. It was Mente who offered him comfort. “We…regret that we cannot restore what has been lost.”

  Renato shook his head fervently, his curls capturing stray tears as they came too near his eyes. “T-This was…plenty. If it meant I could be with you guys, this was all I wanted. I knew it wasn’t…forever. I’ll…be okay. I’ll be okay.”

  The tearful eyes that drifted downwards into his palms captured every gentle flex of his false fingers around the length of either stick. Again and again did he move them in silence, his soft sobs still more than audible. With Mistral Asunder pinned tightly in his grasp, Renato made every careful movement imaginable, one after another in treasured sequence. It was eternal. Neither Muse chided him, content to let him cherish the reprieve he’d soon surrender permanently.

  Octavia was aware that she, too, was sobbing. She didn’t have a choice.

  When his hands clamped shut in full over either half of Mistral Asunder, he closed his eyes, severed tears cutting a sharp path down his skin. Renato inhaled deeply, exhaling much the same. It didn’t stem every sob, and yet it almost sufficed. When next he opened his eyes, glistening as they continued to be, he at least brought with him a smile.

  “You guys better not forget about me, because I’m not gonna forget about you,” he demanded, forcing a weak grin.

  Even trembling, he found the strength to raise his hands, flashing the Muses’ vessel back at them proudly. There was no contrast. It was as intended. It was still every bit as beautiful, cherry red that was just as unique as the boy it clung so perfectly to. “We’re besties. We match. Even when you’re gone, you’re not taking that away from me.”

  The way Mente and Aste tilted their heads was almost endearing. It had taken far too long for a shred of gratitude to reach their Maestro’s ears. Now, they left nothing to be desired.

  “Do not falter.”

  “Take pride in all that you have done.”

  “You will be strong, with or without our power.”

  “And this world will be better for it.”

  “We wish you…”

  “The best.”

  Octavia didn’t have the heart, nor the drive, to interrupt. She barely had the words to speak anything more than her task required. When two Strong gazes fell to her from on high, it was a rarity. So often had she seen them fix their partner alone with weak disdain and irritated insults that she was sparsely a focus. She matched their attention with silence of her own.

  “Ambassador,” Mente began.

  “Our deception was…cruel,” Aste went on.

  “And we recognize it to be so.”

  Just as Orleanna had been regretful, they’d opted for the same. By comparison, for who she was speaking to, their apologies were far more jarring. What words of acceptance Octavia could offer were as fragile as they were poorly delivered. “It’s…okay,” she croaked, swallowing what residual sobs she could.

  “We…did not know,” Aste insisted.

  “Of this, we swear.”

  “That we were forsaken, we became desperate.”

  “And that we were desperate, we would…”

  Mente trailed off. Their voices in unison were soft for a different reason entirely, and it was unlike them. In that moment alone, they were not the confrontational Muses she’d learned them to be. For once, they matched their small and innocent statures in the worst way. “You both wanted to go home,” Octavia said, her own shuddering voice far softer. “I don’t blame you.”

  For a moment, they were quiet. It was Mente who relented first, their words still tiny and vulnerable. “You have brought salvation to our Apex.”

  “As you have done for Seraphe.”

  “You, too, have conquered your greatest fears…”

  “For those we hold dearest.”

  “You struggle on our behalf…”

  “And yet we would still betray you.”

  If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

  “You have given us all…”

  “And we have led you to suffer.”

  “Do we truly…”

  “Deserve to return?”

  Strong as they were, never once had Octavia imagined that they could be so delicate. Two eyeless gazes in tandem eluded her, cast uselessly at their sides in shame. She missed their pride. It was an unnatural emptiness. It wasn’t who they were.

  “You deserve it,” Octavia murmured. “You’ve always deserved it. I’m not mad. I…want you two to be happy. You stayed to help when you could’ve left. I’m grateful for that.”

  It was to say nothing of a second chance granted to a boy at her side, watching on as he was. She stole a shaky breath. “Please be…happy up there.”

  And when they offered her their attention at last, they were still small in every way. “We could not ask for a finer Ambassador,” Aste said.

  It should’ve been warm. Showered in gratitude as she so often was, it should’ve been from those who so rarely gave their thanks that her heart was blessed. Instead, it stung. In more ways than one, she had faltered as an Ambassador. If Octavia strained, she could swear that she still felt a precious touch upon her shoulder. Her tears would fall forever, even as she met a Maestro’s gaze.

  The trembling grin he presented to the Ambassador, then, she knew to be both true and false. Renato was unhurried, somewhere between trying to meet her eyes and not. Octavia couldn’t blame him--not for the discomfort she was oozing in turn. She bled hesitation, and she knew herself to be stinging him all the same. Still, even now, it was her soldier who fought to comfort her instead, searching for a smile she still didn’t have the heart to piece together.

  Renato uncurled his fingers, one slice of cherry oak resting calmly in either false palm. “So, do you have to, like, touch them both at the same time? Or is one of them enough? Never figured out how that works. Does it hurt? Is this gonna hurt me? Not really lookin’ forward to that, if it is. Be gentle with me, alright? I’m a sensitive guy.”

  When not a single laugh nor the slightest smile touched Octavia’s lips, she watched him deflate somewhat. She felt bad instantly, whether or not she could help it. She was upon him, her death sentence for the Strong boy specifically capable of sending his heart straight to Hell. Octavia feared it fiercely, a roll of the dice she was helpless to predict. Renato’s words of confidence were of little comfort. She knew he couldn’t guarantee what emotions were to come in the wake of her guidance.

  And still, even so, he opted to simply take Mistral Asunder in one hand alone, cupping both sticks carefully. It was with his free hand instead that he laid five more cherry oak fingers firmly atop her shoulder.

  “Hey.”

  Octavia raised her tearful eyes to him.

  “I know what you’re thinking,” Renato said softly.

  She rarely saw him with anything but a grin when he smiled. Still, the smile she did find was faint, and it was a comfort all the same. She didn’t hate it.

  “I’m gonna be fine. Life…goes on,” he offered. “I’ve got a ton of stuff to look forward to, and I’ll be damned if this is what keeps me down. Now, that being said, it’d be real nice if you stuck around for a lot of it, you know? Or, like, all of it, ideally. This was a blast. Okay, not the messed up stuff, but the--you know what the hell I mean, okay? God, the way I ended up with these two was so friggin’ stupid, too. You wouldn’t believe me if I told you. It’s insane to think they led me all the way to you and Maddie. And Vi, but I don’t think she was too happy about that.”

  Octavia wished she could laugh. Still, her heart ached terribly. She hated that it wasn’t getting easier. She wished she’d taken it this well. She wished she knew Stratos was safe, eagerly awaiting the return of those he'd traveled beside all along.

  Renato stretched out his hand, a striking contrast of cherry oak upon cherry oak greeting Octavia’s eyes for one last time. He grinned--genuinely, truly, and beautifully. She’d missed it. “And with or without these guys, I’m…still gonna be your soldier. You’re not getting away from me. I’m gonna hunt you down and drive you insane forever, got it? So…do what you’ve gotta do, braids.”

  It was with a deep breath and fingers that still yet trembled that she met his, the very tips of her skin brushing against the length of either drumstick in turn. “I have borne witness to your pain,” Octavia said quietly, “and my light guides your passage from the depths of my heart.”

  Renato met Mente and Aste with the same grin, his gaze far more gentle than anything she’d ever once seen him fix his partners with. The milky luminescence that graced the open nothingness in turn, scattering and speckling the air like delicate stars, was every bit as gorgeous twinfold as Octavia had expected it to be.

  They passed in tandem, two lovely beacons of brilliance departing the world in shimmering whites that painted the atmosphere with speckled radiance. Octavia adored every sparkle along with him, for how she could feel the boy trembling slightly. The moment they were out of sight, her fingers only touching cherry oak of another kind entirely, Renato hesitated to let her go.

  His grin was for her instead, even if she couldn’t offer him the same. With careful adjustments of his false fingers that he hadn’t needed in quite some time, Renato poked at one of her braids playfully. “You’ve still got work to do, you know. You’re not done.”

  Octavia nodded, his joking demeanor somewhat lost on her--even appreciative as she was. His voice alone was all that stopped her from turning on her heel in full, her gaze already halfway over her shoulder.

  “Be…gentle with her, okay?”

  Octavia’s stomach twisted into a knot, as it so often did.

  She watched Renato rub the back of his neck uncomfortably, casting his eyes at the emptiness below. “This is between you and her. I’m…not messin’ with that. When it comes to this stuff specifically, you know her better than I do. Be kind to her. Please.”

  Octavia couldn’t stop the tears that were already stinging her eyes preemptively. It was the one execution she'd dreaded the most.

  Ninety-seven became two.

  She heard the sobbing before she’d taken more than a single step.

  For the heart she would annihilate, for the spirit she would break apart and scatter to the wind, Octavia couldn’t fathom making it all the way there. It was the worst of them all.

  She didn’t have a choice. For a moment, she couldn’t even bring herself to move any further. All she could do was listen to the soft cries that echoed throughout nothingness itself.

  “It will be alright.”

  Octavia should’ve known which one it was, earlier. It was the first voice she’d ever eavesdropped on.

  Where she would’ve expected Madrigal to shake her head in protest or argue in some way, the Spirited girl only clung to Lyra’s Repose for dear life. The base of the harp rested inches from her lips, and her tears trailed neatly down every string. Her hands shook viciously, much the same as her breaths.

  Octavia was amazed that Madrigal was on her feet at all, for how her whole body trembled much the same. The girl could hardly raise her eyes, cast only downwards as they were. Octavia didn’t need to say a word. Madrigal’s pain was more than contagious, a spirit of wind visibly shattering into pieces Octavia could never hope to put back together.

  It was Lyra alone, then, who offered comfort where the Ambassador could not.

  The Spirited Muse wasn't content to linger high above her Maestra, as had been the case for the others. Instead, she was low, her intangible brilliance enveloping Madrigal’s trembling hands on either side. Her faceless gaze, too, was given so closely to the Spirited girl’s own, difficult as it was to catch. Her reassurance was as physical as the form bestowed by the Ambassador could bring into being. Whether or not it was enough remained to be seen. Octavia prayed that there was, at least, some warmth between the two.

  “You are not alone,” Lyra murmured. “Nevermore shall you be alone.”

  Madrigal shook her head, her curls capturing stray tears that escaped her cheeks. “But you won’t be here, and I’ll be left behind without you!”

  “I will be with you in spirit forever.”

  “That’s not the same,” Madrigal sobbed, her voice cracking. “I won’t be able to hear you, and I won’t be able to see you, and I won’t be able to--”

  “I am upon everything in this world that you treasure the most, for it is your eyes through which I have seen,” Lyra argued gently. “So many times have I taken your precious hands that my touch is surely ingrained in your own for eternity. My Magical Madrigal, you shall always carry the Apex of Spirit within you, whether witnessed or otherwise. Cast your gaze high, for I am not truly lost.”

  Madrigal’s sobs settled into shuddering gasps, still equally tearfully and besieged by much the same relentless trembling. “I-I’m afraid to say goodbye.”

  Lyra tilted her head slightly. “For what reason, my beautiful child?”

  “What if you forget about me?” Madrigal murmured.

  The way by which Lyra’s luminescent fingers rose to brush against Madrigal’s tear-stained cheek was melancholic. “For time immemorial, I could never hope to do so. You are treasured in every way.”

  Madrigal fought to battle the sobs Octavia could visibly see wracking her shoulders once more. “A-Are you gonna get to see Ethel again?”

  The Muse’s tone softened ever further. “I will. For that, you have my utmost gratitude, my beloved child. You have returned to me that which I adore.”

  Even if Madrigal couldn’t hope to bring herself to smile, she could nod her head accordingly. “I-I’m happy for you.”

  “And I for you, for what love has blossomed in your heart,” Lyra said. “There are those who would yet adore you much the same as we. It is…beautiful to witness. Of the path you tread, you have my utmost blessings. In that way, may you find happiness.”

  Madrigal’s eyes widened, swimming and shimmering as they were. “I-I…”

  “I say unto you once more, my precious child, that you are not alone,” Lyra repeated. “You have earned companionship where once was none. You have fulfilled a dream where once was naught but resistance. I am not truly lost, but simply unseen. If your eyes cannot find me, then lay them instead upon those we have found together.”

  Madrigal wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, smearing her tears along her forearm as she shuddered. “I-I’ll miss you lots,” she whispered hoarsely.

  “And I you, my child, with all of my spirit and soul,” Lyra whispered back.

  Octavia didn’t push them to part. She didn’t push Madrigal to smile for her beloved at the cusp of their departure, nor did she have the heart to intervene in any capacity. Even so, it was Lyra who called to her first.

  “Ambassador,” she spoke, “I…thank you for all you have done for this child. I thank you for the love you have given her and the sights with which she has been blessed. I thank you for what I may pray is to come in her precious life, by which I would implore you to ensure her happiness forevermore. It is all I ask of you, perhaps more so than even my own ascent.”

  “I’m not leaving you here,” Octavia finally interrupted with a shake of her head. “Ethel’s waiting for you.”

  Lyra paused for a moment. “There is so little more I could request. For us, in our deceit, you have done more than neither words nor actions could ever repay. Perhaps it is bold of me to push, for how I have wronged you, and yet I would beg of this alone. I ask of you, Ambassador, please watch over her. Please…love her where I cannot.”

  Octavia nodded, willing her voice to stay firm. “I will. I promise I will.”

  Madrigal didn’t need to offer the harp to Octavia’s waiting touch, given how it was more than accessible in her loving embrace. With one gaze into Madrigal’s tearful eyes, she found a reluctant nod as permission. She wondered if her heart was racing even faster than the Spirited girl’s own.

  “It’s okay,” Madrigal whispered. “You can do it. I’m…ready.”

  Octavia inhaled deeply, never once breaking eye contact with Madrigal as she fought to still her trembling words. “I have borne witness to your pain, and my light guides your passage from the depths of my heart.”

  Madrigal didn’t break down so much as she did crack slightly, her lip quivering and her tears spilling with such fervor that they splashed against Octavia’s hands. Octavia raised her eyes high, following Madrigal’s own to the Muse that had risen for the Ambassador’s task alone. The shining viridian whose voice she’d once stolen in a time of crisis was equally as resplendent on the way out as she’d been at her luminous birth, and Octavia treasured her departure. Each shimmering speck of Spirited greens upon the air contrasted with the glistening stars in Madrigal’s eyes, sorrow not unlike that of Octavia’s own offered up to Above itself.

  “I love you,” Madrigal sobbed openly. “I love you, I love you, I love you!”

  Octavia couldn’t blame her one bit. The moment she felt nothing beneath her fingertips, the moment in which Madrigal’s desperate embrace fell to only herself alone, she wasn’t content to let the Spirited girl cling to emptiness. It was her turn, and the Ambassador settled her hands onto Madrigal’s shoulders gently. As tenderly as was possible in the wake of every sob, Octavia tilted her head forward, laying her forehead to rest against Madrigal’s own. For how Madrigal came to rest her own shaking hands atop Octavia’s, too, Octavia was content to be still.

  “I already miss her,” Madrigal wept bitterly.

  “I know,” Octavia whispered, her own tears unrestrained.

  “I miss her,” Madrigal repeated. “I miss her.”

  “I know, I know.”

  Madrigal’s glassy gaze burned. “I know you know.”

  And that burned even more.

  How Octavia didn’t collapse right then and there was an absolute enigma, her vision utterly blurring and her heart pounding as it was. When Madrigal, instead, embraced her tightly, she didn’t resist one bit. She settled into the Spirited girl’s touch with shudders of her own that she struggled to suppress. If Madrigal noticed, she said nothing. Octavia was grateful. When she pulled away, Madrigal was just as devoid of a smile as her. Still, Octavia found great relief in her temporary composure. She wondered how long it would last. Once again, she was left to wonder if it was on her behalf.

  “O-Octavia,” Madrigal stammered in the wake of her tears, “thank you for being my friend.”

  Octavia nodded, dabbing at her own eyes with her sleeve. “I always will be, okay?”

  “I love you, too,” Madrigal murmured.

  “And I love you just as much.”

  “There’s…one left,” Madrigal tried, raising a trembling finger accordingly. “We’re really almost done. Isn’t that amazing?”

  Octavia followed Madrigal’s motion with care. “Yeah.”

  “And they’re…all gonna be happy up Above again. You’re amazing, too. You brought them all back together.”

  It wasn’t all of them. Her eyes still watered, no matter how many times she fought back.

  “Yeah,” Octavia answered once more.

  “We’re gonna do so many fun things after this,” Madrigal said, her voice wobbling fiercely. “T-There’s…so much I wanna do with everybody. There’s so many places I wanna go. I-I want you to go with me. Let’s…finish this up, okay, Ambassador? I believe in you.”

  Octavia followed the direction she’d been guided towards. She was aware of the eyes on her. For a moment, she wasn’t even certain why she'd saved him for last. It wasn’t as though they’d ever been close, their interactions limited and his words biting when applicable.

  Ninety-seven became one. It was surreal. She still couldn’t believe he’d stood up for her.

  Octavia had never entirely figured out the relationship between the brash Muse and his beautiful Maestra, for how they’d once bickered in earnest. The Ambassador had never spoken to him much, ultimately, and therefore knew so little of his love--had he any to spare. She liked to imagine he did, for how every frosted melody that had burst from Silver Brevada never failed to chill Octavia’s blood in the best way.

  Every step towards them was a dream, her head fuzzy and befitting of Silence itself. His Maestra’s soul was tangible where the Muse was not. Surely Octavia would have at least one thing to cling to when she inevitably collapsed--although whether secondary to relief or grief remained to be seen.

  “I…never thought we’d get this far.”

  “You have so little faith in your Ambassador?”

  Viola crossed her arms with a smirk. “Not that. It’s just…there’s a lot of you, you know. It definitely took a while. Some of them were a lot harder than others.”

  “And yet your soul has remained steadfast through it all.”

  Viola recoiled. “Oh my God, are you complimenting me?”

  Octavia could’ve sworn she heard Brava chuckle. “Do not become complacent with such praise, girl. To grow is an eternal endeavor. It would do you well to humble yourself.”

  Viola rolled her eyes. “Okay, I should’ve seen that coming.”

  “I am not without respect,” Brava offered, crossing his own luminous arms in turn. It was almost comical, two Soulful individuals a sharp, mirrored image of one another. “I will honor your resolve with true praise, for what you have overcome. Take pride in the path your unwavering soul has led you down, and let such determination guide you forevermore. Seek to better yourself, girl, and your life will surely be bountiful.”

  “You keep talking like there’s still something wrong with me, you know,” Viola half-joked. “You could’ve stopped at the first part.”

  “You…had once spoken of a desire to move further. You had spoken of nurturing your budding strengths. In my absence, aspire to do so regardless. This is the intent of my words. Nothing more.”

  Her smile softened somewhat, and she eyed him with genuine happiness. “That’s…fair.”

  “Will you be stricken by loneliness?” Brava pressed.

  Viola laughed. “Haven’t decided yet. Doubt it.”

  “Then the sentiment is mutual.”

  “Oh, get over yourself,” Viola jeered. “It’s…alright if you miss me. You have my permission.”

  “And you, girl, have mine,” he returned gently.

  Octavia wasn’t used to anything even slightly resembling a soft demeanor from him, and it was almost jarring to witness. It was Viola, then, whose presence served as her primary comfort. Where others had hesitated to gift the Ambassador with a true grin or had desperately hunted for some form of joy, the Soulful girl’s existence within the endless confines of Silence was enough. Octavia wasn’t offered Silver Brevada immediately, still clutched in the Maestra’s hands as she pulled it tightly against her chest. She was offered a soft smile instead, a stark contrast to the soul of ice she’d come to adore.

  “Ready to wrap this up?” Viola asked.

  For her and her alone, Octavia struggled to find her words. “I-I…I don’t know.”

  “I can’t believe this is actually happening,” Viola said, nearly on her behalf. “I remember when this was just…an idea that I had. I didn’t think it was actually possible. We really did it. I mean, you did it. You…kind of did all the hard stuff. We were just along for the ride.”

  Octavia shook her head. “That’s not true,” she argued quickly. “There’s no way I could’ve done any of this without you guys.”

  Viola grinned, faint as it was. “You know you’re stuck with us now, right? You could get rid of them, sure, but you’re not getting rid of the rest of us.”

  And even now, she wished she could smile back. Viola, of all people, deserved it. Viola, who had brought her this far, deserved her gratitude the most. When she couldn’t, Viola’s face fell, and it was a gentle gaze instead that met her own.

  “I’m sorry.”

  Octavia was an endless well of tears. They came with love, each and every time.

  “He…saved your life, right?” Viola tried softly.

  She nodded. It was a comfort, then, that she truly had taken Stratos' final moments for herself. “Yeah.”

  “I told you that he loves you.”

  The lump that rose in her throat was uncontrollable. It was eternal, at this point. For all the fear of deceit and personal suspicion Octavia had harbored, Viola had never been wrong about him. It was Octavia’s own fault for not believing in her words. That, too, ached.

  “Ambassador.”

  Brava’s voice, firm yet gentle all at once, tore her from her sorrow. She raised her eyes, glistening as she knew them to be.

  “Upon my ascent, it is your responsibility to close the boundary,” he began. “What would have been the task of our Lord now falls on you. Within Silence alone, you are the Ambassador still. Once you do so, this world and Above shall be severed, and all will be as it was. This is your final duty.”

  Octavia only stared. “How do I do that?”

  “You will feel it in your heart,” Brava answered simply.

  Viola scoffed. “That’s not very specific.”

  “His light yet lives within you.”

  Octavia’s heart skipped a beat. It skipped several, and she feared fainting.

  “Return what he has granted to Silence, then,” Brava clarified, “and it shall be done. You carry that which you are not meant to hold, and it is what keeps you tethered to the boundary. Stratos has blessed you beyond what you should possess. It will assist in your task. In this manner, he guides your heart still. Use his light well.”

  Her eyes widened. The thought of Stratos’ radiant love still within her was all that could bring her peace. It was all that could clear her head and steady her trembling hands, for how she struggled to maintain true composure even now.

  “Ambassador, know that Stratos is…questionable. He is gently conceited, and quietly arrogant. He is not as he seems, and his soft nature is a farce. Beneath his fragile demeanor rests that which, in truth, I find to be intolerable. Put simply, he is pretentious, and I do not take pleasure in his company.”

  It was ironic.

  “Still, his sacrifice was noble, born of a heart worthy of the utmost respect,” Brava continued gently. “What he has done for you, few others would do the same. Hold your head high, Ambassador, and know for all time that his faith in you was not misplaced. In his final moments, his atonement was…valiant. If he would go so far for you, then yours is surely a life worth defending.”

  And in front of him, where she’d feared unleashing them the most, Octavia's tears were shockingly absent.

  Brava's gaze flickered to Viola. “If what you say is true, then, girl, deliver on your words and provide the happiness you have promised. Your methods are irrelevant, crass and bold as they may be.”

  Viola flushed instantly. “How the hell do you even know about that?”

  Octavia smiled.

  It was a first.

  Viola caught it, and her own matched so wonderfully. It came with a flute Octavia had long since memorized every sparkling key and shimmering facet of, for how many times she’d stood alongside it. Her hands were extended, the shining instrument Octavia had come to adore resting tranquilly in Soulful palms. It was only for a moment that the Ambassador hesitated, her fingers aloft for one final time. The soft gaze she loved in every way served as permission. Her fingertips kissed the cool metal, and she offered the Muse his peace.

  “I have borne witness to your pain, and my light guides your path from the depths of my heart.”

  Brava had nothing more for her. Truthfully, there was nothing more that he could give, for the way he’d restarted her broken heart. An apology was irrelevant, and words so simple were the greatest apology he could give. Octavia didn’t want to surrender precious light, still surging through her veins as it apparently was. Still, she rationalized as she watched cerulean sparkles fizzle and fade, it was what Stratos would’ve wanted. She clung to the idea all the way through to the last flake of azure radiance that greeted her eyes. It wasn't unlike the snowflakes that had blessed her bed so, so long ago.

  Her empty touch met Viola’s. If Octavia had her way, it would’ve stayed there forever.

  “That’s…” Viola began, trailing off.

  She didn’t need to elaborate as to their success. The sentiment was collective, unbelievable in every way. Octavia wondered when she’d wake up, another day of tolls in a picturesque settlement awaiting her. She wondered when she’d wake up further, Priscilla blessing her with the grace of pancakes and affection she’d craved for ages. She floated through an endless dream with only five others to show for it, and she could hardly find the energy to turn her head.

  “I told you it was your light.”

  He’d been utterly silent, immune to the sorrow she’d cursed four Maestros with in turn. Octavia half-expected him to start berating her yet again, to strike her down with his own fear and righteous concern as to a world at risk of ruin once more. Instead, with his hands stuffed into his pockets, his soft smile was a comfort she hadn’t had in quite some time.

  “It really was yours,” Josiah said gently. “Technically.”

  Octavia shook her head. “It’s…his. It belongs to Stratos.”

  Josiah shrugged nonchalantly. “Yes, but he still gave it to you. That’s what matters. It’s yours now.”

  Octavia folded her hands together uncomfortably. “Is it bad that part of me doesn’t want to give it back?”

  He shook his own head in turn. “That’s your choice. No one can force you.”

  She knew, logically, that it was the only way. She was well aware that he, of all people, realized the same. Still, there was something endearing about the way that Josiah refused to push her.

  “Is this gonna hurt?” she heard Renato mutter.

  “Shut up!” Harper hissed back quickly.

  Octavia stifled a giggle. Granted, she had five more reasons to surrender. That was plenty. For all she knew of his heart, tethered to her own as it had been, she liked to imagine Stratos would understand. Ultimately, she knew for a fact that he would. She never got the chance to try, regardless.

  “If…you really think her heart is pure, I’ll trust you.”

  Octavia blinked. “What?”

  Josiah’s smile never waned, much to her surprise. “She Who Brought the World to Ruin.”

  The name alone was enough for Octavia’s stomach to lurch, if not only for a moment. It hadn’t slipped his mind after all. She might've been foolish for thinking it would. “Josiah, I didn’t--”

  One hushing palm only made it halfway aloft. He hardly needed it. “I don’t know a damn thing about her--personally. Frankly, I don't want to. I’m not the Ambassador, though. I don’t trust her, to be honest, but I trust you. If you trust her, then I’ll trust that.”

  His words were nearly enough to bring her to tears again. Octavia could’ve sworn she caught a handful of scattered nods in her peripheral vision, whether or not she met Josiah's eyes alone. For more reasons than one, she was aglow. Of what she could feel inside, she searched for the love that bubbled and pulsed where she could reach.

  She’d never done it without Stratos. Octavia closed her eyes, folding her hands together over the very heart she’d shared with him so many times over. If she delved deep, she wondered if she’d find more than simply what had been left for her.

  I’m taking everything you have!

  She wondered how much she’d stolen. She still couldn’t decide if it was hers to begin with.

  Octavia wondered, too, if it was supposed to burn. She wondered if it was supposed to surge through her veins, explode from her pores, ignite her blood and sear her soul with the strength of the stars. What she was actually looking for was debatable, and she found none of the white-hot adrenaline Stratos' luminous prowess had typically scorched her body with.

  Instead, she counted every last heartbeat she could feel. They were warm. Octavia wasn’t certain if they’d always been that way. It didn’t hurt, and she hadn’t quite noticed earlier. Where her theft of the Muse's fury had once been a deep breath, all that was necessary was shallow by comparison. She liked it, almost. She’d miss it, somewhat. There was little to fixate on, not for how she still couldn’t shake her interest on whether or not he was in there somewhere. It was a concept that didn’t ache as much as she would’ve expected.

  The blinding light that besieged her eyelids from afar, closed as they were, was irrelevant. Octavia counted every last beat even now, surrendering to a smile that she couldn’t quite pinpoint the origin of. She could hardly describe it as a warmth, for how specific of a sensation it truly was. If it really was Stratos, then his toll was the least of it. He didn’t need to be in her blood. She didn’t need to steal his eyes. This was enough. Here and now, should this be him, it was more than enough.

  And when she felt it wane, there was a melancholy that came with it. When her pupils were freed from within, returning to a softer darkness, she somewhat lamented it. Octavia liked to imagine that there was something left over, faint as it was and equally inaccessible. It was enough of a fixation to blind her senses, at least momentarily. In the absence of the gentle sounds of Silence that had encircled her, she instead found only the familiar rustling of that which tickled her ankles.

  The only light she found upon cracking her eyes open came from above rather than within, true sunshine born of the mortal world kissing her skin. The breeze that greeted her was disorienting, for how still Silence had been. This, too, was a dream, isolated as she found herself in an open meadow. It was every bit as lovely as it was surreal. It was familiar. To have lived to see it again was unfathomable.

  His case was still there, right where she’d left it. In that way, Stratos would never escape her.

  Cherry

  - 23. Ropeburn -

  - 27. Retaliation -

  - 28. Restore and Ruin -

  - 39. Confidence -

  - 42. Up in Flames -

  - 44.5. Soulless -

  - 46. Guilty -

  - 49. Not Alone -

  - 49.5. My Miracle -

  - 51. Missed Connection -

  - 52. Switch and Derail -

  - 55. Shot in the Dark -

  - 56. Strong -

  - 62. Snow Angels and Cherry Blossoms, Part I -

  - 63. Snow Angels and Cherry Blossoms, Part II -

  - 65. Voiceless -

  - 69.5. High Voltage -

  - 77. Burn the Rope, Part I -

  - 79. Burn the Rope, Part III -

  - 94.5. Ruined Light, Part II -

  - 97. Storm Over the River, Part I -

  - 97. Storm Over the River, Part I -

  - 98. Storm Over the River, Part II -

  - 98. Storm Over the River, Part II -

  - 99. Storm Over the River, Part III -

  - 102. With Love -

  - 103. Above All Else -

  Bonus: In the style of (and with the software used for) Vocaloid music, River of all people actually ended up with his own little vocal character song! You can find the lyrical version , the instrumental version , or both on the main playlist (with lyrics included). Worked just as hard on it as always. One last song for the road.

  For easy access, you can always find the full soundtrack in playlist format , as well!