Harmony

Octavia 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.

Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

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.