Octavia's lips curled in disgust as she gazed at the pyre. She stood with Quintus at the edge of the barrier, in the cool, blue haze that came before the dawn. Wood stood piled knee high in a neat geometrical stack interspersed with dried leaves and strips of old cloth.

Atop it all, laid Eli, his body wrapped in linen strips soaked in a pungent elixir that made her eyes water, and throat burn. Judging by the spots of blood seeping through the fabric, Quintus had been thorough with him, but no punishment would ever be enough for what he did.

"Here you are my dear." Quintus reached into a box of goodies by his feet and handed her a thick match ripe with the scent of sulphur.

Octavia struck it against the wood and tossed on the tinder, watching the fire run and expand. It roared and crackled until it engulfed the pyre, consuming everything in its path, but seeing Eli's body go up in flames didn't fill her with the satisfaction she wanted.

His spirit was in eternity, while Arietta and her mother were trapped in rotting bodies, doomed to suffer an eternity of darkness. It filled Octavia with a bitterness that soured her stomach. She wanted grab his burning body and throttle him one more time.

Quintus dipped his hand into the box again and produced two rods with cured meat attached to one end, holding them close to the flame. They popped and fizzled filling the air with the scent of spices. "The Priests didn't find anything in Eli's house. According to Beatrix, he sent out letters regularly, so we may be dealing with a larger scale issue."

She figured as much. Eli couldn't be the catalyst of humanity's destruction on his own. "I'll draft a letter to the archives. They're more inclined to listen to me."

"Indeed, they are." He flipped the meat over. "I'll make arrangements to have the girl and her mother transported to the crypt. I was hoping we could find this bastard's research. A way to stave off the rot would help immensely."

Octavia held her hands out to the fire to warm them. "Perhaps there is a way to track it down. Does the post in Avaly keep record of the letters that come through?"

"I believe so, and if that's the case we may have a trail to follow." He offered her a sizzling skewer. "Cured meat, cooked over the burning corpse of thine enemy. This is how you celebrate a victory, my friend."

Octavia tried to put on a smile for him, but it fell flat. Was it really a victory?

"You did well Octavia. Don't be so hard on yourself."

"Then why do I feel so utterly incompetent?"

"I suppose everyone feels that way when the things they learned aren't enough to get them by. I know old Morrigan drilled it into your head, but sin and symphony isn't all a necromancer needs." He tapped his skewer against hers before taking a bite. They ate in comfortable silence and watched the fire die down to glowing coals and embers. The rising sun slanted through the trees, casting warm, yellow light over the snow.

Quintus stuck his skewer in Eli's remains. "Meet me in the bell tower within the hour. We can deal with the daywalkers later but I want these damn netherborne gone."

She nodded and headed into the cathedral. The halls were empty and quiet for the most part, save for the kitchen where Marin was already up and at work. She meandered her way to the foyer and took the steps to the third floor. Instead of putting her in the back with the other priest, she was tucked into the southeast corner of the building, in a cozy, spacious room that overlooked the pond.

A whiff of poppy seed and citrus tickled her nose as she went inside, a far cry from the musky scent of age and neglect she'd found on her first day in this room. She grabbed her flute case from the trunk at the foot of the bed.

As she hurried down the hall, a door at its end opened and Sicero stepped into her path. His curls were shorter and his face clean-shaven.

"Good morning, Octavia," he said with a small smile.

"Good morning. You're up early."

"Indeed. Actually, I was just going to look for you." He raked a hand through this hair, and the patch of white peeked from behind his ear.

Octavia frowned. "Is something the matter?"

"Yes. Walk with me, please." He led her pass the stairs to the northern side of the building. "I need your help with Tallis. I haven't told him about Arietta and he was talking about going to visit her."

"I see." Octavia grimaced. She wasn't sure if she had the emotional strength to break any more bad news, but for Tallis, she'd endure it. He needed strong shoulders to lean on. "Where is he now?"

"In his room." He nodded to the way ahead. "Right up here." When they stopped in front of the door, he knocked. "Tallis? Can I come in?"

"One minute!" the boy called from beyond the door. A few bumps and crashes sounded from within the room, along with the slapping of feet against the floor. "Come in."

Tallis' room was minimally furnished with a single bed, bedside table and a bookcase. The wardrobe stood open, clothes and toys spilling out from it onto the wooden floor. The boy sat on the floor, sticking his feet into some worn-out boots.

"Am I in trouble?" Tallis asked, glancing back and forth between Octavia and Sicero.

"Not at all." She set her flute on his bedside table. "We came to talk to you. Can you sit, please?"

He frowned at her, but obliged, hopping up onto his bed. "All right, but I have to take this back to Arietta before breakfast." He plucked the flower crown the girl had worn yesterday from his pillow.

Octavia sat beside him, while Sicero leaned against the door. "Tallis. Arietta..." The words lingered on her tongue. To think a simple word held so much power, and what she would say would tear him apart. "Arietta died last night."

The crown fell from his hands into his lap and he pulled away from her. "No. No you're lying!"

"Tallis," Sicero said, but Octavia shook her head at him.

Tallis snatched up the crown and jumped down from the bed, wheeling on Octavia. "Why would you lie about something like that?!"

"I wouldn't. You know I wouldn't." She kept her face impassive, even though his words cut her deep. Of all the paths he could've chose, it had to be denial.

"Tallis listen to Octavia," the High Priest said. "You know she'd never do or say anything to hurt you."

For a moment he stayed silent, a thousand thoughts passing through his eyes. His grip on the crown tightened and he shook his head. "No, Arietta's fine. She was just having a bad day. I'm going to see her. And she'll be fine, I know it."

Octavia's heart broke for him. So young and pure, and hesitant to believe the ugly things in this world. She hated to do this to him, but the only way to get through to him was to show him the ugly, painful truth waiting at the end of his path.

"All right." She stood and grabbed her flute case. "We'll all go see her together then." Sicero cast her a dubious look as she motioned for Tallis to lead the way. They followed him down to the first floor, through the quiet corridors to the infirmary.

Tallis raised his hand to knock, but stopped with his fist floating in the air.

Octavia held her flute case in a tight fist, hoping Tall is would come to his senses and believe her. But the boy squared his shoulders and knocked on the infirmary's door.

A moment later, Annabelle emerged. She frowned at Tallis before looking up at Octavia. "Can I help you all?"

Isolate her, Octavia mouthed.

"We came to see Arietta," Tallis said.

The head medic scrunched her brow, but nodded and motioned for them to come in. The waiting area was empty, save for another medic sorting through sheets of paper behind a desk. Octavia waited with Sicero and Tallis until they were called into the back.

Tallis was the first to take off down the hall, and she took long strides to keep up with him. Octavia's breath fogged when she stepped into the room. The windows were cracked to allow the cold air in—their only way of staving off the rot—and a long curtain partitioned off the back half of the room.

Arietta lay on a single bed, linens covering her up to her shoulders. Her skin was nigh as white as the sheets she laid on, and her hair brushed down over her shoulders.

"W-why is it so cold in here?" Tallis asked, running up to the bed. He took off his jacket and draped it over his friend. "Arietta gets cold easy, you can't have it so cold in here! Where's her hat? And her scarf?"

Annabelle sighed looking down at him as though he were a small, lost animal. "Tallis. She's gone."

"Arietta?" He touched her shoulder and pulled his hand away as though she'd burnt him. "Why? Why is she so cold?"

She put a hand on the boy's head. "Arietta died last night Tallis. She succumbed to her illness."

Tallis grew still, his gaze on his friend again, and the flower crown fell from his hand. "But she can't be gone. We didn't get to have our sleepover... We didn't..." His hands shook and his eyes brimmed over with tears, his breath coming in short hitches.

Sicero stepped forward and placed a hand on his head. "I'm so sorry, Tallis."

The boy turned to Octavia, eyes wide and pleading.

"I can't." This time it wasn't a half truth. There was nothing she could do for Arietta, and it hurt her, just as much as it hurt him. Octavia knelt down to hug him tight. He didn't deserve to know this kind of pain. She wanted to give him the usual comforts, tell him that Arietta was in a better place, but that was one lie that refused to cross her lips.

"It's not fair!" he wailed, his body quaking as he sobbed. "Why does everyone have to die?"

Octavia rubbed his back, and his tears seeped into her sweater. "You're right. It's not."

"I didn't." He hiccuped. "I didn't even get to say goodbye."

"No, but you did something even better." She held him at arm's length, hands on his shoulders. "You helped make Arietta's last day special. Her time here was short, but you all gave her a lifetime's worth of happiness. I'm sure she was grateful to have you as a friend Tallis."

He bobbed his head.

"If you ever want to talk, come find me, all right?" As much as she wanted to stay and comfort the boy, Quintus was waiting for her, and putting an end to this mess was the only justice she could give to those who'd died.

So, while Sicero took her place, she left the room, stopping to breathe for a moment. She didn't notice Pilar sitting in one of the couches until the woman cleared her throat.

"I'm sorry," Pilar said. "I wanted to tell him last night but..." She shook her head. "Sicero shouldn't have put this on you, you've done enough already."

Octavia shrugged. "It's fine. I have to meet with Quintus, else I would've stayed with him."

"I'll take your place then."

"Thank you." With that, Octavia left the infirmary to head for the bell tower. As she mounted the foyer's steps, footfalls sounded in her wake.

"You're headed up to the tower to meet with Quintus, yes?" Sicero asked as he fell into step with her. "Should we get everyone inside?"

Octavia shook her head. "Actually, everyone should be outside for this."

They parted ways in the foyer and Octavia made the long trip up to the bell tower. Quintus was already there, lining up his glass harp on a long table. He gave her a cursory wave as he half filled a narrow wine glass.

She set her flute case on the windowsill and assembled the instrument. Outside the window villagers milled about the main street and the Cathedral courtyard. Even from way up in the tower, the whispers of gossip reached her.

"Shame what Eli did."

"I heard he killed his wife and daughter too. That poor child. That poor woman."

"I thought he was such a good neighbor. He made my wife and I that gift box for our anniversary."

"Goes to show, you never really know anyone."

Octavia lined up the holes of her instrument before glancing over her shoulder at Quintus. He knelt in front of his glass harp, eyes aligned with the water in the glasses. Then he wet his hands and tested each glass, taking a little from this one and adding a little to that one. Could he have picked a more cumbersome instrument to master?

She sat on the windowsill and gazed over the village, past the frozen trees to the ocean beyond. Two months ago she'd crossed those waters with ambition coursing through her veins and a song in her heart. After all she'd endured, it seemed like ages had passed

"Ready?" Quintus asked.

"Were I still a normal human, I would've been dead by now." She stood and stretched, flexing her fingers to stave off the numbing cold before raising her flute to her lips. With help and a high vantage point, banishing the netherborne would be simpler than the six-hour gauntlet she'd endured on her first night in Hedalda.

Octavia kicked off the song playing low notes to mellow out the pitchy, yet sweet sounds of the glass harp.

The melodies twirled together and spread over the island like a cleansing, spring rain. Vibrations of power pulsed with the tune, delivering sin and symphony to the netherborne who thought they could claim this world as their own. Tiny petals in every colour imaginable twirled up from the forest, catching the light of the dawn as they danced on the wind.

This world belonged to humanity, and bit by bit Octavia would return it to their grasp. Even if it killed her. Hedalda was but a tiny skirmish in a full scale war, but these small victories have her the hope and courage to keep going until she won this world back. For humanity.

Silence followed the last note of the song—not the chilling, graveyard silence she'd grown used to, but the comfortable silence of lovers watching a sunset. It lingered for a moment, then an eruption of cheers rose from the village.