Octavia hadn't bothered to ask how Renato had survived diving down the side of a mountain, let alone how he'd managed to bring two Maestras along. She figured it out firsthand instead. [♪]

His forward momentum, a fearsome weapon in and of itself, was as much an asset as the Harmonial Instrument he'd all but entirely mastered. He broke into a dead sprint, the distance between himself and the screeching wall of Dissonance rapidly shrinking with each step. Octavia's initial panic at the sight hardly mattered, for how he shirked the metal below altogether. Instead, he threw his full body weight onto his hands, again testing the limits of well-crafted cherry oak as he caught himself. Twice more did he tumble, gathering ever more velocity as the tips of Mistral Asunder delicately tapped the thick plating below.

The third time he flipped in full, it was no longer delicate. It was a miracle he hadn't outright burst a hole beneath him into the interior. The steel shell crunched under the explosive pressure, crumpling downwards in time with a deafening boom. In contrast, Renato went up.

Octavia had witnessed, for very brief periods of time, the extent of Renato's spatial awareness in mid-air. Blessed with immense acrobatic prowess of questionable origin, the twisting, turning, and tucking of his body at any angle he desired was always breathtaking to watch. As such, when his ankles sailed clear over his own head, Octavia assumed his lofty upward burst of easily fifteen feet would surrender to swift descent shortly. The way he'd brandished either drumstick was as shocking as their byproduct. Two simultaneous downward flicks of his wrists, instead, beat to life a unified burst that hurt her ears. He went up again.

Octavia blinked. She blinked harder. She wasn't sure if she was seeing this correctly.

Even so, the same self-assured grin was still plastered permanently onto his face. She watched in utter awe as airborne freedom blessed Renato's body with all the range of movement he could desire. It was the opposite of a freefall, the boy spinning and inverting precisely in time with evenly-spaced explosions upon the open sky. Invisible as they were, his rapid ascent was all Octavia needed to attest to the strength of sound in plain view. Twenty feet. Twenty-five feet. Thirty feet. He was practically flying. It was absolutely captivating.

At the apex of his height of choice, he did at last submit to gravity. Arms wide and fingers taut, his breathtaking ascent brought him just above the hazy smoke Octavia feared. Her stomach emulated her eyes, performing backflips of its own as Renato careened towards the awaiting Dissonance below. Mistral Asunder met it first, one quick inversion and a lively cry of effort accompanying yet another devastating boom. His momentum brought the full, crushing weight of his gathered height with him, blasting downwards like a meteor as it crashed into the cloud.

There was absolutely no way Octavia could hope to stay upright, knocked hard to the chilled metal below as it rocked beneath her feet. The sight of the coagulated smoke rupturing haphazardly, a crater punched into what had moments ago been a sea of agony, was incredible enough to make up for it. The screeches and wails of the mist paled in comparison to the powerful sounds she was already enduring.

Octavia waited for him to come down, to boast, to spin a stick in either hand and fix her with a grin. She waited for words of pride and victory that would gift her with much-needed hope. Instead, Renato never came down. He went back up, and he began anew.

"How is he…doing that?" Viola murmured, equally transfixed by the sight.

Every blast, every spin, every twist and push and swing of his wrists kept him airborne. Not only was he unhindered by the streaming wind, but he was stealing it for his own gain. Renato didn't return to the roof below, more than content to kiss the cool rush of the night sky forever. Rising to meet his ruthless sonic blows, the ascending smoke gave chase in its own way.

In desperation, it surged, battling to clot and rebuild what had been torn apart. Not once did he give it the opportunity, the rhythmic bursts of sound slowly growing on Octavia as wonderful background noise. His movement was fluid, his fighting style free. It was so like him, and no one else. He'd made the strength of sound all his own.

From here, even at this distance, Octavia could hear Renato's joyous laugh once more. She could see his face split wide with the most brilliant grin that had ever touched his lips in all the time she'd known him. Under the recaptured gleam of the moon he'd just barely given permission to shine, she could witness the blinding shimmer in his eyes that came with utter bliss. He was having fun.

Whatever cold winds and chilling screeches could besiege Octavia were mitigated by Renato's sparkle. His confidence flooded her heart with all the warmth she could've wished for.

"He's gonna tire himself out if he keeps doing that," Viola muttered.

Octavia could hardly peel her eyes from the Strong boy, not immune to her own irresistible smile. "Let him."

In lieu of protest, Viola raised Silver Brevada to her lips. "Then you can't leave me on my own, okay? It's our turn."

Octavia lamented turning her attention to the one-third of Dissonance she'd adopted, remorseless smoky violet plaguing the back half of the train. In the time she'd spent witnessing Renato's skill, it had grown yet more, a fuming ocean of agony that spilled over the rim in wispy droplets. She adjusted Stradivaria on her shoulder once again, settling the bow onto the strings. She did what she could to steady her breathing and still her pounding heart.

"Right," she answered.

"I won't give up if you won't," Viola said, eyes level only with the Dissonance blotting out the sky.

Octavia nodded. "Then I won't."

It had simultaneously been not too long ago and far too long ago that their instruments had sung together in perfect harmony. The beautiful song woven between the voices of Stratos and Brava incarnate was to be both admired and feared. Balance was precious, and the concussive blasts Renato's onslaught had forced them to withstand were surprisingly helpful. Freedom of movement, blessed in part by the security that came with companionship, urged them forward. Beautiful in every way, two valiant melodies pierced the night air as one.

It was with ferocity that her light bloomed, her ice sparkled, her rays blossomed, her crystals sharpened. Again, the sun was born of her fingertips, glaciers born of her lips. The stars were born of her strings, their shimmer bursting brightly upon her frost. They were in sync, a heart of light and a soul of ice striking against the Dissonance with all their songs could give.

Every blow upon poisonous memories assailing them was true, radiance exploding with a dazzling flash as it cut clean through the smog. Spearing crystal was fierce, razor-edged ice slashing through the violet void with equal ferocity. Octavia's skin burned, her fingers pulsed, and her blood bubbled with the scorching warmth of rebellious luminescence. She traded fear for power, and she could taste the adrenaline on her tongue. She played with everything she had, and the conjoined song kissing her ears was absolutely perfect.

Viola never surrendered. Where her lungs faltered, her trust compensated. Octavia already knew it was a possibility, and she rushed to capture Viola's anguished eyes the moment it hit. Her fingers never stopped moving in the face of the girl's exhaustion, radiance bursting forth from ravaged strings endlessly.

"Catch your breath!" Octavia called above her song. "I'll wait for you!"

Viola did. As many times as was necessary, she did so. In the wake of breathless reprieve, her tired lips would once more return to the battlefield that was Silver Brevada. She raged on into the flute, offering up ice born of fatigue and determination alike. Oxygen was of different value entirely to Octavia, her stamina well-paced and comfortably balanced. Her scathing starlight wasn't eternal, and yet could burn for longer still. For now, it was all Octavia could do to put her trust and strength into Stradivaria's touch. For what faith she poured onto the strings, she was rewarded with warmth in her arms and wrath upon the darkness.

The Dissonance bent beneath the weight of their assault, repulsed and repelled as it screamed forever. There was progress, somewhat, in the form of smoky spirals and splattered wisps that died with horrific wails in their wakes. For what fizzled into the darkened sky, then, yet more would rise from below to replace it. A train so haunted by clinging agony was fuel to the sickest fire. It burned, and burned, and burned, ceaselessly rolling and ferociously screeching.

It was a box of bad memories, and yet it was finite. There was an end, at some point--surely. Octavia had lost track of how long they'd battled. So, too, had she lost track of how much had risen. It had been plenty, and she liked to imagine it was the majority. That didn't make her life any easier. That didn't help Viola.

She thought Viola was catching her breath again, initially, the absence of gorgeous song a tell-tale indicator of oxygen reclaimed. Octavia played on alone, the cries of a violin mingling with those of crying agony in turn. It usually took twenty seconds, although she'd only half-cared to count. She found nothing, and waited thirty seconds instead. When the melody of a flute evaded her for a full minute, Octavia tore her eyes from the eternal swell of writing purple.

Silver Brevada had instead become a desperate crutch, spearing against the steel shell below as it supported its faltering Maestra. Bound to one knee and brilliantly red, it was a miracle that Viola was still upright at all. Her entire body shook as she gasped pleadingly for air, the Harmonial Instrument wobbling as she struggled to maintain her balance. She didn't. Her hand slipped.

Viola collapsed, slamming the side of her head against the unforgiving steel below. Silver Brevada clattered to the same, pale fingers frantically reaching for the instrument with little success. Her fragile body was wracked with coughs and wheezes, for how her limits had been surpassed long ago. Even so, she dragged herself on her hands and knees, bare skin chafing against cold metal as she fought to grasp the flute once more.

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"Viola!" Octavia cried in horror, her song nearly halting altogether.

"Don't stop!" the girl croaked back, her voice hoarse. The words alone were too much, and she was cursed to cough heavily.

"Stay down for a bit!"

"I can…still…"

Viola never finished, trailing off into yet more choking in place of speech. One hand crawled to her throat, and she grasped at what pain surely rested within. The other still yet drifted towards a discarded flute, rolling inches away with each desperate flail.

"I'll be fine, please, just rest for a bit!" Octavia begged.

Truthfully, she wasn't fine. The upward trickle of Dissonance that had continued its ascent was slowing, the last vestiges of seeping agony at last greeting her in full. It didn't minimize the severity of the situation, the sea of smoky fog still writhing before her without hesitation. She was left to tense and pray, pleading with every muscle to withstand her song.

What light she had spoke to progress, surely, the blinding radiance of stolen stars blessing her every note. The quantity was immense, either way. As to whether Octavia had been cursed to simply survive or blessed with the strength to overwhelm, she wasn't sure. Her heart pounded with something more than adrenaline.

If this alone was too much, she feared for the boy who'd taken on double behind her.

One look at her back found his feet upon the roof at last, shoulders heaving with just the slightest hint more of effort. Renato's smile had slipped somewhat, deteriorating to a faint grin that spoke to fatigue. When he once more attempted the same acrobatic endeavors of before, the height he gained and the explosions he birthed paled in comparison to his prior power.

It was still an undeniable testament to his strength. Regardless, it was far less fruitful in quelling what Dissonance remained. With certainty, he was losing ground, forced to retreat in the most minute amounts before preparing yet more dramatic blows. Subtle or not, it was damning all the same. Renato wasn't the type to give up--he was the type to burn himself out.

He was the type to take the fall on her behalf.

Octavia's knees shook. Her stomach twisted into a knot. At her feet, Viola paid for the Ambassador's confidence. She coughed violently one too many times, pale fingers trembling as they brushed against her lips. When they drew back, delicate skin was stained with splattered red. That was enough for vision to blur, a heart to race, the world to spin. Octavia's breath fled her in full, stolen by the wind and coated by the screeches that drew ever nearer.

They were hurting. They were in danger. Once more, she was the catalyst for pain.

Octavia could hardly see Stradivaria's strings, sluggish hands moving instinctively as her feeble light did what it could. What little she had left was still vivid in its own right, fired deep into the heart of the swirling smoke. It wasn't enough. She knew that much. She couldn't feel the handle of the bow between her fingers. Octavia trembled so viciously that she nearly dropped one half of Stradivaria altogether.

Giving up was repulsive. She'd sworn not to. She was fighting a losing battle all the same. Three people struggled below her, and yet two more shattered themselves to pieces at her side. Violet advanced from her front and her back, and what confidence she'd carried was swallowed by swelling agony. Octavia was hyperventilating. She couldn't see straight, and her light was failing. She found bells so far from home, and the voices meant to match. It was how they'd ended up here, after all. Agony was her fault, here and here alone. Today, just the same, her light was not enough. It never was. It never was. It never was.

And even now, on the last outskirts of consciousness, Viola reached for Silver Brevada.

Her blood-stained fingers strained and shook, fumbling in exhausted desperation for her partner. He rested too far from her touch. She would've had to crawl to his power. There was no possible way, for how she was completely and utterly drained. Her shallow breaths, where she could salvage them, rattled fiercely. She could hardly keep her eyes open, fingernails clawing painfully at her chest as she choked. Still, Viola reached, and reached, and tried without surrender.

There was guilt that came with a broken promise, and it ached in every way.

"Stradivaria."

I am here.

"I need you."

You will have all I can give.

With trembling hands, Octavia did what she could to steady him on her shoulder. "How…much can I do alone?"

You are the Ambassador. You can do anything your heart wills to be so.

His voice was louder than the bells.

"I…"

You are not alone, for I am with you.

And in her heart, he wasn't the only one.

She didn't look. She closed her eyes, and she felt him in her heart where he belonged. She didn't need to call for him. She knew he was there. Octavia inhaled, exhaled, and pressed her fingers against him once again. She rested her head against his body, brought the bow to rest over the strings, and filled her blood with love. She wouldn't get it wrong twice.

Octavia's song wasn't aggressive, necessarily. It didn't make it any less strenuous. It didn't alleviate the burden of quaking muscles, nor of blazing tendons that fought to withstand heat blasting through every vein. Never before had she channeled so much of his raw strength through her body, and his touch made her a conduit for a supernova.

It was a pressure rather than a pain, compressing and crushing her beneath the weight of pure brilliance. The sun was born of her heart, and the stars rushed through her blood. What left the strings as she wove a nameless melody into the air was radiance that could blind the moon above. Even she didn't dare to open her own eyes. She could feel the way it fought to pierce her eyelids, all-consuming and relentless. Octavia wouldn't give it the chance.

Octavia did everything in her power not to move. Every ounce of concentration she could muster was offered solely to the movements of her hands and fingers alone. She had never felt so connected with him, relishing the way he became her everything. She inhaled the dark and exhaled the light, a vessel befitting the title of Ambassador.

She was frozen, one with the song that she brought into the world as it radiated around her. Even now, what erupted from every pore was white-hot and molten, scalding in a way that didn't quite singe her skin. She could hear the screeching, unending and agonizing as it was. If she were to call for him, instead, she knew she'd find his voice. She didn't need to. He was here within her.

She played for long enough that she forgot who she was, becoming a beacon of light and a reservoir of strength not her own for eternity. She didn't mind it. If this was what it was like to burst into flames, to become a brilliant star in the brightest sky, she would've enjoyed the sensation. She debated opening her eyes, still battling the residual white that struggled to slip past her closed lids.

She wasn't sure when, if ever, she should stop. Her entire body was emboldened by the purest possible concept of light she could ever hope to describe. How much time had passed was beyond her, hinted at only by the tell-tale ache in her every muscle. There came a point when crushing pressure began to rescind, an infernal supernova sparing her as it waned. She could breathe. When had she ever stopped?

Octavia finally opened her eyes at last, threatening white no longer ever-present. Her light gradually stemmed, dying out as the trailing comets in her heart cooled over. The consequences of straining for so long were settling in. Her fingers were chafed, the skin upon the strings rubbed red and raw. The rushing night air stung the wounds in turn, and she winced. Her arms, blood ablaze with radiance to shame the sun moments before, throbbed and ached. Her favorite consequence was the absence of screeching altogether.

She'd surveyed the expanse of roof just long enough to see it off. Octavia captured the absolute threshold of the smoke's dying cries, hazy violet once steeped in agony now reduced to fizzling flecks of mist. Along a wind unlike that which still besieged her, it passed along, floating high into the night and surrendering to nothing. The spectacle, even in departure, was hauntingly beautiful in the most grotesque way. Like rain, it sprinkled upon the evening air, falling skyward rather than down upon her. Vanishing purple was shredded and widespread, wispy debris painting the air.

She found the same spanning the entire length of the train, every last swath of the rampaging fog reduced to ascending dust. There was a brief moment of terror where she feared it would reconvene, for how much had plagued her in the first place. She was beautifully wrong, once-swirling smoke transfigured into drifting ashes that escaped her high above. Octavia bore witness to the death of each and every one.

Renato's eyes, too, charted the same path as her own in equal disbelief. His shoulders still lightly heaved as he caught his breath. He tilted his head, his hands surrendering to his pockets instead to be mesmerized by the spectacle alongside her. He fought for his turn with her enraptured gaze, waiting patiently. When he caught it, he didn't let go.

His eyes were warm, his smile gentle. "It's like I said, braids," he said softly. "You shine too damn bright for the rest of us."

His words were just as warm, even in the midst of her creeping disorientation. It was one more thing that touched her heart. Octavia did what she could to find a smile worthy of matching his own.

Viola's coughing brought her back to reality, a tender reprieve shattering like glass as Octavia dropped to her knees. The haste with which she laid Stradivaria to rest beside her was enough to elicit a thick clunk against the steel. She regretted the force she used, somewhat. Even so, her attention was solely on the girl who'd finally stopped reaching for her partner. Viola's breathing had calmed, her face still splattered a soft red and her palm still tinted with dried streaks of blood.

One corner of her mouth echoed the same. It was a reflex for Octavia to brush her thumb delicately across Viola's lips, desperate to disperse what blood still laid waste to her gentle expression. Octavia only smeared it more, and she winced at the sight. It hardly mattered. The pressure of Viola's smile, weak as it was, pushing up against the pad of her thumb eased her heart.

"You're incredible," Viola whispered.

"Are you okay?" Octavia murmured, cupping one aching hand around Viola's reddened cheek.

Viola's fingertips, bloodied as they were, still found the strength to grace the back of Octavia's hand. "I'll be okay. How do you feel?"

Octavia shook her head. "Why does that matter? You're a lot worse off than me."

Viola closed her eyes, smiling softly in place of her gaze. "It matters to me."

"Viola," Octavia said, "I…I'm sorry I couldn't do more. You wouldn't have gotten hurt if I hadn't--"

"You didn't give up. That's all I could ever ask for."

Octavia couldn't fight the tears that pricked at the corners of her eyes.

"My…Ambassador," Viola breathed, stroking the back of Octavia's hand.

She couldn't fight the smile, either.

"Is she gonna be alright?" Renato asked.

The approaching boy peered at the Maestra with kinder eyes than usual. He tapped the tip of his shoe against the steel below absentmindedly, looming above them both.

Octavia was more than relieved that she could nod. "Yeah. She'll be fine."

"Nicely done, Vi," he praised with a grin. "You've still got it."

His praise was lost on her, and she rolled her eyes. "I never lost it," Viola muttered hoarsely.

"That was…all of it, then," Renato continued. "I think we…actually did it."

For a moment, his words were surreal. The liberated moon served as Octavia's primary evidence, a tranquil glow newly freed from the grasp of hateful mist. She was content to bathe in its placid embrace. Her tired hands still graced Viola's skin and her heart still resonated with the echoes of luminous love. Even without Stradivaria in her arms, she swore she could still feel his touch within.

The blaring whistle of the train, exceedingly late by several hours, nearly scared her to death. All three Maestros jumped, actually, startled severely by the sudden roar. Octavia's peace didn't last long. That much wasn't new.

Renato shrugged, still shaken. "Guess he figured out how to drive it."

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