Octavia’s heart raced relentlessly right up until she was back in the safety of her room. Even then, it wasn't satisfied until long after the click of the door had graced her ears. Her luck had held out stupendously, by which her return had spared her the visages of her companions, as well. It was all she could do not to outright fall to the floor and catch her breath. Her thoughts, just the same, threatened to tumble out of her mind and spill across the carpet, buzzing as they were.

  For how often she’d played the “calming walk” card, she’d never felt more alert and on edge upon return. This silence, too, was intolerable and suffocating. It wasn’t even necessarily something she could cling to, and her newest peace was at equal risk of compromise. In here, she was never truly alone.

  You were there again.

  Unlike Jasse, she already knew that Stratos was well aware. It was her fault for making it so. Rolling her eyes felt infinitely better than wasting away in her own dread.

  “And if I was?” Octavia answered, unlacing her boots as she steadied her breaths.

  You would not deny it, then.

  “Doesn’t matter. I’ll go where I want,” she said bitterly.

  Have you borne witness to the tolls she harbors?

  “Why do you care? It doesn’t concern you.”

  Octavia, please. Do not shun me.

  “Leave me alone.”

  Octavia did what she could not to acknowledge him, flopping onto her bed almost fully dressed. She didn’t have the energy to change clothes, and could at least find irony in one way her “walk” had left her fatigued. If she didn’t look at his case, closed and idle atop the little table as it was, perhaps she could pretend that he wasn’t real. She’d imagined his voice as fiction, once. She could always try again.

  Octavia, you absolutely must not guide her.

  “She deserves to go home. I’m done arguing about this with you.”

  You do not understand. I beg of you, please.

  “I’m the Ambassador, not you,” Octavia snapped. “You can’t keep her here. If you have something to sort out with her, sort it out up there. I’m not abandoning her.”

  Octavia, you are in danger! he practically pleaded. Believe what you will of me, but I--

  “Shut up, Stratos!” she growled, immediately aware of her harsh volume. She toned it down as best as she could, praying her outburst was at least somewhat localized to her room. “Just shut up!”

  He did. It wasn’t as satisfying as she’d hoped it would be. Octavia's frustration was as reflexive as it was tinted by agony of her own.

  “You’ve got a hell of a lot of nerve to tell me a damn thing about danger, for everything you’ve put me through! How many times have we almost died because of the Dissonance? And now I have to wonder how much of that was my fault? What, because you haven’t done enough to me already? All you ever do is lie, and here you are, doing it again! You’re great at that!”

  Stratos didn’t respond. Octavia squeezed her eyes shut.

  “I am the Ambassador,” she said, her voice low and wavering with anger. “I have one job. I’m going to do it, whether you like it or not. You’re the one who told me she made a mistake. You’re the one who didn’t want to talk about her until now. Whatever problem you have with her, figure it out yourself. What’s done is done. Hold grudges over it if you want, Stratos, but I’m doing everything I can to make things right. If this is what I say is part of that, then damn it, it’s part of that. You wanna be mad at someone? Be mad at me. I’m sick of this.”

  Stratos was silent. She was grateful. She hoped he could feel her venom, for what of it she did her best to sting him with. Octavia sighed sharply.

  “Don’t you ever dare thank me for my help again. All you think about is yourself. All any of you think about is yourselves. As long as you get to go back, it doesn’t matter who else does. It doesn’t matter what you leave behind down here. You don’t care. You really, honestly don’t care. Stop acting like you do.”

  Octavia knew she was pushing it. Even now, it was more than possible she was trading safety for ire, as good as it felt to express. She settled into the bed weakly, sprawled out as she was. If he really did keep his silence, she could genuinely find some of her own.

  With her eyes closed, she honestly expected more racing thoughts to assault her one by one, or rather in a messy clump that splattered across her brain. Peace was a surprise. She attributed it to catharsis, and she rode it out into unconsciousness. It was overpowering and enveloping. She didn’t mind surrendering to a darkness that she didn’t have to choose of her own accord.

  Octavia was so used to nightmares that a standard dream was a rarity.

  She hadn’t had the time prior to losing her grasp on reality to fear what the evening would have in store, the roulette of fate spinning and bestowing upon her any stolen horrors of her choosing. She’d gotten lucky last night, for the jumbled imagery of tolls she’d only remembered in passing. At her best, they were the most she had to deal with. There was always an initial terror that came with piecing the puzzle together, trying to figure out exactly where she’d witnessed such gruesome ends and experiences before--and through which eyes. It was the sickest kind of guessing game.

  She didn’t recognize this one--at least, not immediately. She couldn’t recall any tolls upon a shoreline, let alone adjacent to the ocean at all. She blinked. She couldn’t usually do that, either.

  Rarely, Octavia could take control, lucid in the deepest depths of sleep. It was a random occurrence, try as she might to replicate it in the midst of her distress. Not only had she lucked out with a peaceful vision, but her dream body was hers to command as she wished. She flexed her fingers experimentally, false as she knew them to be. She blinked several more times for good measure, false as she knew her eyes to be in turn. She drank in the scent of salt that tinted the air, embraced the humid breeze that scraped her hot skin, and battled the shifting softness that met her uncomfortably underfoot. That was new. All of it was new.

  She blinked much harder than was healthy. Every sensation was far stronger than it should’ve been. There was weight to her body, the floating feeling she’d come to expect in unconsciousness utterly absent. She curled her fingers inwards, digging her nails gently into her palms. It was sharp. If she tried more firmly, it would hurt. It wasn’t supposed to. Octavia inhaled slowly, letting the salty air tickle her lungs. From within, it burned. It was unlike any dream she was used to, unfamiliar as her locale was. Throughout her entire life, she could count the number of times she’d seen the ocean on one hand.

  It greeted her at her back in full, claiming the horizon for miles upon miles. She disliked the way each wave came to lap against her socks, and she nearly tripped in the unstable sand below as she hurriedly escaped its reach. She missed her boots. She couldn’t find them, kicking herself for somehow dreaming of an uncommon discomfort. Where clouds had laid waste to the moon that dared to shine in Tacell, the blackened sky above twinkled brilliantly with every conceivable star Octavia could hope for. With the gentle roar of the ocean to keep her company, she could see the scene as nothing but a dream. It was confusingly beautiful. She recognized the beachside abodes. She had absolutely no idea why.

  It was a nostalgia that hit her like one thousand bricks directly to her stomach, pelting her again and again. Her head nearly ached as she struggled to place where she’d seen them before, let alone the expanse of lush greenery they bordered extensively. Octavia could hardly take it in, for how fiercely her brain was fighting to make sense of the sights. It wasn’t quite in a panic that her eyes scanned the forest’s exterior--it was more of a semi-desperate attempt to garner some crumb of understanding as to her whereabouts. She entertained the idea of moving forward. She did so, more with surreal curiosity than with fear.

  Every step was painfully palpable, every sensation as she walked far too legitimate. She made for the dense flora that awaited her not so far away, somewhere between hesitant and scathingly captive to unspecified familiarity. Octavia was almost afraid to interact with any of the humbly-crafted huts that lined the forest’s perimeter, lest she encounter company of questionable hospitality. There was still plenty of time for this to turn into a nightmare. She hadn’t even slightly ruled out the idea, given her general record.

  “You have come.”

  It was sudden enough to scare her nearly to death, and she almost lost her footing entirely in the sand. She hadn’t even seen the girl appear, let alone approach at her back. Distracted as she’d been by her surroundings, Octavia supposed it was her fault. It wasn’t as though she would’ve attributed such a voice to such a small child, regardless, mismatched in every way.

  She still knew it. Again, Octavia couldn’t place where, and it was practically incinerating her. She knew the impossibly-long blonde waves that nearly kissed the girl’s thighs. She knew the billowing whites and silky threads that surrendered to the breeze. She knew the breathtaking azure skies that captured her gaze. She knew the name. It was there. It was buried, and no amount of sifting through every hiding place in her mind was offering any relief.

  “Ambassador.”

  That, then, was her catalyst.

  “Rani,” she whispered back breathlessly.

  The girl didn’t acknowledge her recognition, neither confirming nor denying. She didn’t need to. Every deep, powerful word that left her mouth in that masculine tone was enough. Octavia had already grown absolutely confident in her conclusion.

  “I remember this place,” Octavia confessed, her voice far smaller than she’d intended for it to come out.

  “As you should,” the out-of-place tone came from the child’s lips once more.

  “Am I…dreaming?” Octavia tried.

  “You are not.”

  It was simultaneously a validating and unsettling confirmation. Again, somewhat instinctively, Octavia dug her fingernails into the skin of her palms. This time, she let it hurt. It definitely made sense.

  “Why am I here?” she asked hesitantly.

  “I have made it so.”

  Even fully lucid, supposedly, every movement felt ethereal and slow. If she wished to believe her experiences to be a dream, it surely would’ve still sufficed as an explanation. “Why?”

  Rani didn’t answer. Octavia tensed. The words that slipped from her mouth were instinctive. She didn’t so much as bother to consider their risk until well after they hung in the salty air, mired in fog as her every sentence and motion was.

  “You’re…Lord Ramulus, right?”

  Some part of her had almost expected a reaction out of the girl, prompted by whatever laid claim to her spirit in some capacity. In retrospect, given the enormity of her guess, Octavia should’ve known better.

  Where she looked for body language, she found only words. It was different than usual. “I am,” the voice affirmed simply.

  Octavia tangled her fingers together. “Would you…prefer if I called you Rani or Ramulus? Lord Ramulus, sorry.”

  She kicked herself over the immediate disrespect. She wondered why she cared in the first place.

  Only now, at last, was she greeted with at least a shake of the head. It was a comforting gesture that gave Rani a shred of humanity. “Call me as you wish. It matters not.”

  It wasn’t a helpful answer. The dichotomy between his voice and her body was still incredibly disorienting. For once, his words were the only ones she found in this place. Given the Muse she’d managed to banish, it was a relief. Octavia wasn’t sure why his name slipped out anyway.

  “Can Stratos hear me from here? I…heard his voice in this place, once.”

  Rani only stared. She found no emotion behind little eyes, earning only a hollow calm. “Where my heart would reach for his, in this place, he would answer. You, who holds him close, would hear him in turn.”

  Octavia fidgeted. “Can he…hear me now?”

  “If I will him to.”

  It was an odd explanation. To be fair, it was just as odd of a comfort. For how out of it she was at the moment, Octavia was at least away from Stratos by default. She contemplated her freedom for long enough that she was nearly abandoned, the girl turning quietly on her heel and leaving the Ambassador in her wake.

  “Come,” Ramulus ordered.

  Confused, Octavia hurried to oblige regardless. She trailed Rani’s every step, even as she crossed the threshold of greenery bearing the curse of soaked socks alone. It was miserable.

  This, too, was blindingly nostalgic, although Octavia knew her prior experiences in this place had been steeped in something far more agonizing. It was the first time she’d met this mysterious land with composure, let alone with a shred of understanding as to her small guide. Her path was clear, strikingly so, and it was every bit as surreal in turn.

  She traded the ocean for the vibrant, natural songs of an autumn’s evening, by which she was forced to pray she didn’t step on any hazardous insects without her boots on. She hoped it was autumn here, at least. She resisted the urge to pelt Rani--Ramulus, perhaps--with questions, for how she’d bitten her tongue so diligently during their last encounter. She failed absolutely miserably.

  “What is this place?” Octavia began.

  With her--his, possibly--back to Octavia, Ramulus answered without the pushback she'd feared. “It is a place in which I may do what is necessary.”

  Octavia tilted her head. “What do you mean?”

  He didn’t hesitate. She appreciated that. “With what remains, I may yet create and conceive with care. It is in isolation that such fragile fragments of a shattered path may cling together.”

  It didn’t explain anything. “I don’t understand.”

  “Here, I may shape and mold. I may navigate what has been built with precision. I may construct a course of action that would lead to salvation, narrow and delicate as such may be,” he clarified somewhat.

  “You’re…building things here,” Octavia tried desperately to interpret. “Building a…path? To where? Above?”

  From here, she could see Rani nod, the sandy cascade scraping the girl’s skin gently in the process. “Whether it will hold true remains to be seen. As such, I toil.”

  “I-I thought that was my job,” Octavia stammered, growing more confused by the moment.

  “Where you would guide, there must be a boundary to cross,” Ramulus spoke calmly. “Those facets of this realm which would steady the boundary are to be reinforced and guarded. Should they slip out of place, I could not undo what has been done in full.”

  Octavia knew she was pushing him. She didn’t care, baffling as his words were. “There’s a boundary? What kind of a boundary?”

  “That which would divide Above from this realm.”

  It made enough sense. “The ’facets’ you’re talking about, are they by any chance...little rules, sort of? For how you guys…work?”

  In the slightest, Rani peered over her shoulder. Octavia stiffened. She had no idea how to word this without sounding ridiculous. She opted for the most ridiculous option of all, hurtling all caution to the wind.

  “L-Like, uh, imagine a…spider web. It takes lots of tiny threads to keep it together, and if too many of them break, it falls apart, but you wouldn’t really stop to count all of them. A-And the more of them you add, the stronger it gets. Maybe some of them are stronger than others. Except, in this case, you’d have to…keep track of them all, somehow? I don’t know if that makes sense.”

  She tensed as she awaited his reaction. Lord of All as he was, Octavia wondered if he was the type to berate the Ambassador for such language. To her immense surprise, he didn’t object. Rani faced forwards once more, and Ramulus’ voice met her ears. “I suppose that would be a fair comparison, yes.”

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  There was a sigh of relief that came with validation. It was embarrassing. At the very least, it would make processing his words easier, given the grand scale to which he spoke.

  “Does this…place have a name?” Octavia pressed.

  “It goes by the Isle of Silence.”

  She blinked. “That’s really what it’s called?”

  “It could not truly be called Silence, that is to say.”

  Octavia fidgeted with her fingers as she walked. Every word that left Rani’s lips, foreign as the voice that spoke them was, gave a more confusing answer to her questions than the last. “I’m not following, sorry. What does that mean?”

  “It is a material substitute. Call it what you wish, Silence or otherwise, but know it to be false.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  He was patient. She’d give him that. “Where Above would meet this realm, Silence would bridge the gap. This place is no Silence, and yet it is the closest I have come. It is here that I may ensure the boundary is secure.”

  Octavia’s head hurt. The hand gestures she rationalized with were lost on the girl who outpaced her. “So, it’s called the Isle of Silence, but there’s somewhere else really called Silence, and Silence is…where the boundary is? Is Silence the boundary? Like, is that what it’s called? Does it have a name? And do the people who live here actually call it that? The Isle of Silence, I mean? There’s people that live here, right?”

  “They do.”

  That was the question he’d chosen to answer, apparently, of all the ones he could’ve selected from her messy stream of inquiries. It was something, at least. “Where is ‘here’, exactly?”

  “A place of purity. All here will remain untouched by mortal corruption for their short lives, more than likely. In that way, it could be considered a paradise. Their hearts are unblemished, much the same as yours.”

  Octavia blinked. Then, her eyes widened. “They’re…Heartful? All of them?”

  “Indeed.”

  For how rare Mixoly had asserted Heartful humans to be, the thought was unfathomable. Her mind couldn’t keep up with him, not for the weight behind each and every shattering statement made with such calm. “A-And Rani, then, she’s your…Maestra? Where’s your Harmoni--where’s your…vessel?”

  “She is.”

  Octavia raised an eyebrow. “She’s…what?”

  “She serves as both.”

  Her heart skipped a beat. “Excuse me?”

  “Here.”

  Octavia didn’t get to press. In truth, she’d been so absorbed in the delicate answers Ramulus had graciously gifted her with that her surroundings had blurred long ago. It was only now that she paid heed to the crumbling architecture and pitiful remains of limestone constructs. Trodding upon stone in wet socks was deeply uncomfortable, and every soaked step left her praying not to slip.

  The fraying structure encircled by mossy ruins and columns she couldn’t identify spoke to abandonment. That, too, was achingly familiar. It was overgrown, vast, and carried a hint of sanctity that made her second-guess desecrating decaying ruins with ocean-stained footwear. Octavia groaned inwardly, try as she might to focus. If she would’ve given the ancient scene more thought, she could’ve classified it as dreamlike in turn.

  It was nearly at the center of the decrepit chaos that Rani contently stilled, indifferent to the variable sea of stone that encircled her. Something about the action, with Octavia halting before her in tandem, stabbed the Ambassador with sharpened familiarity. Part of her wondered if she was to hear the same story again, of what came from none and how it fell to ruin. At this point, she was in too deep. He should’ve known that.

  “So…where’s this?” Octavia asked hesitantly.

  “It was once a place of worship, to my understanding. To them, in its disarray, it is still such.”

  Octavia’s eyes trailed every last broken bit of masonry in turn, combing the remains of the little altar several times over. “What do they worship?”

  “Myself.”

  She nearly choked. “You let them do that?”

  “It is this child, rather, that they idolize,” Ramulus clarified.

  Octavia couldn’t help but stare at Rani. Never once had she seen the girl blink--or so she’d never noticed.

  “Her heart is blessed by my power, and they in turn believe her to be a gift,” he continued. “I detest it, and yet I do not object. I know their intentions to be pure. Much the same, I cannot compromise this place. I have already done so enough.”

  For how Valkyria and Seraphe had rejected so vehemently the same sentiment in their respective prisons, Octavia was baffled. He was a Muse so far above them both, and yet he tolerated their praise with such patience. It was unthinkable.

  “What do you mean you’ve…done enough?” she tried.

  Ramulus was calm. “There are necessary fragments of the path I have crafted incidentally that should not have existed. This world is fragile, and we are not meant to intervene from within. It is a risk, lest we alter what is natural. For one, I have cursed those who call this place home with that which should not be seen.”

  It took a moment. “Are you…talking about Dissonance, or something else?”

  “You are correct.”

  Her eyes widened. “They can see it?”

  Rani nodded. “It was not my intent. Such is perhaps part of their adoration for a child who may vanquish agony given form.”

  “And Rani’s fine with that, too? Fighting Dissonance, being worshiped, all of it? You talk through her, I figured that part out. You’re an…Apex, right?” Octavia guessed.

  She vaguely remembered hearing so previously, and hoped she was still correct--not that it would’ve changed overnight. She’d never seen Rani blink, that much was true. Still, not once had she heard any voice besides Ramulus’ own leave the girl’s mouth.

  “She possesses nothing to express.”

  Octavia blinked. “What?”

  Rani was motionless as she spoke, much the same as before. “This child is not alive.”

  Again, Octavia could do nothing but stare, even as her stomach churned. “What do you…mean?”

  “Upon the Descent, this child was deceased, newly born as she was. It was her in whom I found a vessel. It was the most efficient means, even if I do lament the circumstances,” Ramulus explained calmly.

  Octavia wanted to vomit. “Y-You…killed her?”

  Rani shook her head. “As I have stated, she had already lost her life mere moments into existence. I had done nothing to her, nor would I have interfered with this world of my own accord. Aside from such, I had not the luxury of time for a different course of action. I was forced to act swiftly, lest yet more be lost. Try to understand, Ambassador.”

  It didn’t stem the nausea that overwhelmed Octavia one bit. She felt dizzy, and she prayed it wasn’t bleeding into her voice. “I-I…act swiftly for what?”

  He was quiet. To stare down a dead child was infinitely more disturbing. Every time she looked upon Rani’s face, the chills that racked her spine were agonizing. It didn’t matter that the girl could move and speak. Her eyes were hollow, now more than ever. Octavia wondered if she simply hadn’t noticed.

  “You have met with She Who Brought the World to Ruin,” Ramulus stated plainly.

  Octavia’s heart pounded for a different reason altogether. “Y-Yes.”

  His tone was deceivingly soft. “What are your impressions of her?”

  “She's...nice. I can’t see her as someone who did anything wrong. From what I know, she made a mistake, and she regrets it. She just wants to go home. I don’t blame her,” Octavia said.

  That was all she dared to offer. As to everything else, even in the face of the Lord of All, she knew better. Octavia prayed she knew enough of the spider web for her secrets to truly be secure, even unspoken in her heart.

  “I see,” he replied.

  And when Rani’s eyes left her own, flickering to nowhere, it didn’t make his words any more pleasant.

  “You cannot return her to Above.”

  Octavia’s heart snagged somewhere between anger and sorrow. She couldn’t choose which tone to take with him, and it landed almost clear in the center. “She deserves to go back! She’s sorry for what she--”

  “She is unable to return to Above.”

  Octavia froze. Her blood, too, stilled in her veins. “What?”

  The words that left Rani’s mouth were as slow as they were chilling. “She Who Brought the World to Ruin is incapable of crossing the boundary.”

  “I-I…why?” Octavia stammered.

  “This realm has made her impure of her own volition. She cannot return with such imperfections upon her blood. It simply is not possible, nor can it be made so.”

  Octavia tangled her fingers together so tightly that she risked losing circulation. “There’s got to be a way to get her across!”

  Rani shook her head. “There is not.”

  “You can’t do something about it? You’re the Lord of All!”

  Again, Rani shook her head. “Not of this, even should I desire to do so.”

  Octavia wanted to scream. “But she wants to go home just as badly as all of you do!”

  “And it is for that precise reason that you must not attempt to guide her.”

  Her breath hitched in her throat. “Huh?”

  Ramulus was indifferent to her confusion, his explanations sharp and unforgiving. “To cross the boundary in reverse from this realm is an unfathomable task, by which the very laws of the world must be rewritten with care to undo what has been done. It is a feat so unforgiving that any missteps will shatter what path we cling to now, Ambassador. Even to simply avoid the toxins of this realm cursing the purity of Above is an unthinkable trial, so narrowly averted.”

  Octavia tensed. The way Rani’s eyes pierced her so, empty as they were, was impossibly painful. He continued regardless. “She Who Brought the World to Ruin detests this realm, for what impurities she has come to find where beauty was desired. She is tainted. Even with the aid of the Ambassador, she would not be able to cross the boundary. When she makes such a discovery, this world will be in peril once more.”

  Octavia’s heart nearly stopped. Every word he spoke was worse than the last. “W-What do you mean?”

  There was an irony to be found in her simultaneous gratitude for every answer Ramulus offered and the way she half-wished for the truth to stay stifled. “It was her inability to return to Above which first brought the world to ruin. Should she encounter the same impossibility twice over, she would surely do so again.”

  It took a moment. When it hit, it burned. It was a slight not against herself, and yet one the Ambassador couldn’t stand for.

  “She wouldn’t do that!” Octavia cried. “S-She wouldn’t…bring the world to ruin again! She doesn’t like it here, yeah, but neither do you guys!”

  “So disillusioned was she with this realm that her agony poisoned the boundary. So vivid was her grief for a paradise she’d imagined that we in turn paid the price. In that way, perhaps, it was two realms that fell to the mercy of her despair. To free her from her confines would jeopardize both once again.”

  “Mixoly wouldn’t do that,” Octavia argued weakly.

  Rani shook her head. “It was all that could be done solely to salvage this much. Where the ninety-six would find refuge from her suffering in such vessels, it is she alone who would be shackled for the safety of this world. I do not blame you for your ignorance, Ambassador, for your heart is pure and your intentions are the same.”

  Octavia gritted her teeth. “So everyone else was tied to a vessel for protection except her? You…you imprisoned her?”

  “In doing so, she, too, was protected. If such was not the case, you would not have met her. She would not exist, nor would her agony have been stilled. Know, Ambassador, that for what she has wrought, you may count your blessings that there is any world left to walk upon at all.”

  Octavia bit her tongue. She really wanted to scream.

  “For what she has unleashed, her hatred surely endures. She cannot be trusted, nor would she ever earn such trust again in the wake of so grave a sin.”

  She felt her fingers curl into fists, with or without her permission. “I…saw her talking to Stratos. I didn’t understand all the way, but didn’t she just want to make the world a better place? Why is that a sin? What did she do that was so wrong?”

  Rani tilted her head somewhat. “You have attempted to bear witness to her toll, then.”

  Octavia nodded resolutely, unashamed. “Yes, I have.”

  Ramulus paused. “She was not to touch this world at all. None were, lest it be tarnished by our influence. In her selfishness, she had upset the balance, and went on to destroy what had been so lovingly made. This world she sought so longingly has become her prison, and it is perhaps fitting in that manner.”

  She could feel the same fists shaking at her sides. “She made a mistake, and she regrets it! That’s cruel!”

  “‘Regret’ does not salvage the boundary alone,” Ramulus countered calmly. “‘Regret’ does not restore what will never again be. ‘Regret’ does not erase the agony that plagues this realm by her hands, ‘regret’ does not restore the ninety-six to their rightful place, and ‘regret’ does not undo what wrongs have been done unto those you love.”

  Octavia’s blood burned in the worst way. To be furious with him was a danger she couldn’t wrap her head around in full. She couldn’t help it.

  “For every way by which you have suffered thus far, for all that you have lost, she is at its center.”

  “You’re not--”

  “It is in no small part, by her actions, that you no longer enjoy the love of a sister.”

  Every thought in her head screeched to a halt at once, her bubbling anger nearly stilling along with it. It wasn’t quite enough. In truth, it only scorched harder the more his words seeped in.

  He was worse than Stratos. She wasn’t falling for it. Octavia said as much.

  “You’re not turning me against her.”

  Rani stared her down, dead eyes and all. Where she didn’t emote nonverbally, Ramulus’ intent and emotion was unclear. For how neutral his voice remained, he was unreadable. It was only by the pressure that lined his every statement that Octavia could get any sort of feel for his resolve. She did everything in her power to glare right back into the same hollow sky.

  “I’ll find a way to get her across the boundary,” Octavia insisted. “I’ll find a way to get her home.”

  “You will not.”

  His words were as plain as they were weighted. It didn’t matter that they came from the mouth of a child. They struck deep into her racing heart. For Mixoly’s sake, sweating as she was, she wouldn’t back down.

  “I will.”

  “It is you, then, who would bring the world to ruin once more.”

  Octavia shook her head. “I won’t give up on her. If there’s no way, I’ll make one.”

  “And if you cannot? When she is untethered and learns of her fate, what next will you do?”

  Octavia paused. “I’ll…make sure nothing happens. I’ll make her want to stay.”

  “You would endanger this world,” he warned.

  “That won't happen.”

  “You would endanger all whom you have struggled to save.”

  Octavia shook her head once more. “That won't happen," she repeated.

  “You would endanger your friends.”

  She froze.

  “For if you fail, if you go so far on her behalf, they will perish.”

  It took absolutely every ounce of willpower she could scrounge together to find her breath. It took yet more to defy him further.

  “That won't happen,” she asserted thrice over.

  Ramulus was silent for a moment. Octavia wanted to shout at him, danger be damned. He was their Lord of All. His powers were questionable, if not grand. If he could strike her down here and now, she would never know. If he had the incentive to do so, she would never know. She was gambling the hardest she’d ever gambled in her life. It was only her rage that burned more brightly than her fear, and pure adrenaline was all that kept her from collapsing beneath the weight of dread.

  “You are aware that you are replaceable, correct?”

  Octavia recoiled. It was a sentiment she hadn’t heard in some time. It was a route she hadn’t expected him to go down. She didn’t have the words to match his harsh rhetoric.

  “You are disposable. It is not to say that we are not grateful for what aid you have granted up until this point, but the risk you would pose to their peace is too great. You, Ambassador, are a threat. Know that if you continue to walk this path, you will be replaced. It will not be your decision to make.”

  Octavia took the greatest gamble of all. She pulled it straight from Mixoly’s lips, one trembling hand proudly over her pounding heart.

  “You won’t.”

  Rani gazed at her without words. She pushed, her eyes sharp and deadly for a girl with no life to speak of.

  “You won’t replace me,” Octavia spat. “You can’t. You have no one and nothing to replace me with. You need me. I’m all you have.”

  “There are other Heartful who could easily play the part,” Ramulus reminded coolly.

  She struggled to steady her breaths through gritted teeth. “There's no one else who could do what I do. There’s no one else who would go to the lengths I would go to--that I’ve gone to. No one else would’ve done what I did for Seraphe. Deny it all you want, but it’s true.”

  “What remains to be done is simple.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “She whom Jasse claims as her own will serve more than sufficiently. Already, she has proven her obedience and willingness to serve the cause.”

  Octavia stiffened. It was almost an insult. Even so, she felt awful for the way by which she was about to demean Faith. She could never offer a face-to-face apology for what wasn’t said aloud. She offered one in her head.

  The hand upon her heart was practically strangling her dress. “Faith can’t be the Ambassador. She doesn’t know what she’s doing. She’s weak, and she wouldn’t be able to stand the pressure. She wouldn’t be able to cope with tolls, even the ones that were left. She’s not cut out for the job. If you really thought she was, you would’ve chosen her first.”

  It slipped out, more or less. She didn’t regret it. Octavia doubled down the moment she saw Rani’s eyes narrow in turn. It was the first true change she’d found on the girl's face, and it almost felt good to trigger. The venom she noticed dripping into her words felt just as good.

  “Oh, yeah,” she hissed, “I know. I’m aware.”

  Ramulus took the truth calmly. He didn’t deny it. Instead, he listened in silence. She pushed.

  “I’ve done everything you wanted,” Octavia insisted, her voice as steady as she could will it to be. “Even now, I’m still doing what I’m supposed to. I’m the perfect Ambassador. If you replace me, you have nothing. You’re stuck in the middle, with half of you up there and the rest of you trapped down here until who knows when. If that’s really what you want, then go ahead and replace me. I dare you.”

  Still, he was quiet.

  “I’m going to witness Mixoly’s toll. I’m going to let her out, and I’m going to save her heart one way or another. I’m going to be your Ambassador through it all. That’s how it’s gonna go.”

  She may as well have been dreaming, for how disconnected she felt from the girl who directly defied the Lord of All. Octavia could hardly process half of the words that were leaving her mouth, at this point. It wasn’t exactly a terrible feeling. It only burned when Ramulus answered.

  “With certainty, I am aware that there are tragedies for which you blame yourself.”

  Whatever adrenaline she’d ridden thus far evaporated instantly.

  “I am aware there are innocent lives you believe yourself to have forsaken.”

  Whatever composure she had, too, was rapidly unraveling.

  “I am aware that there are those you hold most dear, punished as they have been, whose suffering you take onto your shoulders.”

  She couldn’t breathe.

  “Mutilations.”

  She couldn’t think.

  “Emotional agonies.”

  She couldn’t move.

  “Deaths, even.”

  She didn’t exist.

  “Know, then,” Ramulus spoke, “that should the world fall to ruin once more, the blame will truly lie solely with you, Ambassador.”

  It had been some time since she’d heard bells. To hear them in such a serene place was disgusting.

  “Know that, should it come to such, I will do as I must, and you will become my enemy.”

  Octavia squeezed her eyes shut.

  “And know that there are none alive, neither among your kind nor our own, who would forgive you.”

  Her heart could’ve exploded.

  And with her eyes closed, she felt the touch atop her head before she could register Rani anywhere in her general proximity. Where she shivered in the darkness that came with selective seclusion, hiding in terror behind her own eyelids, the blackness that enveloped her instead was unpredictable. It wasn't her own. She tumbled into it without remorse, and Ramulus' voice was no more.

  She came up with a gasp. She came up confused, bordering the line between the dream world and reality. Octavia came up, still sprawled out on her bed, questioning whether or not her unconscious experience had been a standard one. She’d forgone the bells, at least, fleeting as they’d been.

  Octavia came up with wet socks, dripping gracelessly onto the sheets in a sickening puddle. She found her answer. It shook her to her core.