Octavia set her pen aside and picked up the stack of sheet music, reading every note, checking every ligature, pause and annotation. If there ever existed a perfect song, this was it. She trailed her hand down the side of the page, careful not to smudge the ink.

Since returning from the search of the island, she'd occupied herself with the mind-numbing monotony of recording the song. It distracted from the disappointing amount of nothing they'd found while scouring Hedalda. Even the netherborne hadn't come out to play.

Octavia and Quintus, along with the teams of priest led by Zhen and Ezra spent the entire afternoon searching the island from end to end. While signs of netherborne activity littered every corner, there were no clues which could lead them to the anchor. Despite that, she wasn't too worried, the search of the village held far more importance.

She rose from the couch, stretched and paced around the room. Her body was in a strange, hazy place beyond exhaustion, where it had perished any hope of rest. She paced along the perimeter of the room, stopping by the hearth to let the heat seep into her. Atop the mantle laid a square sheet of paper, coated in a layer of dust.

The other side held a drawing. Of her. Her likeness stared out from the page with bright eyes, etched in ink and charcoal. All the details were there, even the stubborn baby hairs at her temple that curled up no matter how much she smoothed them. She recognized the art style. It filled the pages of a once burnt book.

How flattering. Sicero cared enough about her face to take the time to draw it. Yet only regret, cold and heavy settled over her. She should've kept her distance, turned a blind eye to his shy smile and a deaf ear to his silver tongue. Now her heart paid the price.

A knock sounded on the study's door and Sicero came in, carrying a tray with a porcelain tea set atop. "Pilar told me you were in here. I thought might appreciate something hot to drink." He laid the tray on the clear side of the low table.

"Thank you. Is this yours?" She held up the drawing.

"Ah, yes." He cleared his throat, his eyes darting away as though searching for a distraction. The veil of shyness came over him again, making him look more like a child than a centuries old man. "It's nothing. You can throw it in the hearth if you want."

"Why would I want to do that? It's such a nice drawing." She paced back to the coffee table and laid it next to her sheet music.

He met her eyes again and smiled. "Thank you. Would you like a cup? Marin wasn't in the kitchen so I had to brew it myself. Hopefully, it's palatable."

At her nod, he poured out two cups, and they sat in silence, sipping the spicy blend while the crackling of the fire and the weight of unasked questions occupied the space between them. She peeked up at him, but his eyes were on his drink. Thoughts passed through their hazel depths but remained unspoken. Perhaps he'd resolved that nothing he could say would close the rift between them.

"You were working on music?" Sicero asked, picking up a page.

"It's the song the netherborne was singing earlier. I don't—"

The study's door swung open and Quintus barged in, hair scruffy, bareback despite the cold and carrying a bowl of dried fruit and nuts. He took a seat in an armchair and kicked his bare feet up next to their tea.

"Excuse me. We're having a meeting here," Sicero said.

"Then have your little meeting, but I'm not leaving Octavia alone with you." He tipped the chair back and tossed a nut in the air before catching it in his mouth.

Octavia set her tea down so she wouldn't throw it at him. "I don't need a sitter, Quintus."

"I know, but it never hurts to have reinforcements."

"Noted, but I came here to eradicate the scourge. Whether anyone here likes me is irrelevant. If anyone wants to undermine me, they can certainly try. If anyone wants to kill me, they can certainly try. But I'm not leaving until my work is done."

H breathed a laugh. "Did they tell you someone here sent a correspondence to the Divine City? Thanks to the little bit of power Jaredeth grants me, I was able to intercept it. A few carrier birds may have been lost in the process."

"It was Diann." Sicero said, rubbing his face. "She acted alone, behind our backs, and implicated me as well."

Octavia gave a dismissive wave. "I don't care. The Divine City does not scare me. A hundred and ninety-eight years ago, I made the decision to shoulder this burden. It's heavy enough without you and everyone else constantly bearing down on me with your theories and hypotheticals."

Quintus stayed silent for a long moment and raked a hand through his hair. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be so overbearing. I'm just—"

"Worried, I know. And I appreciate your concern. I suppose someone should worry after me, but I'd also like for you to trust me to know what I'm doing."

"I do. But I'm still not leaving." He leaned back in his seat and continued munching on his snack.

"That's fine." She turned to Sicero. "I'm guessing you wanted to have our talk about that night?"

The High Priest nodded. "Among other things."

"Well, we may as well invite the eavesdroppers in then." Quintus looked towards the door. "I'm talking about you all out there in the hall."

After a beat of silence, Pilar walked through the door, along with Zhen a gang of other priests, a few medics and Councilman Levi. They took up residence in various parts of the room, some sitting, most standing.

"What do you all think this is? Dinner and a show?"

Sicero stood brows angled over his eyes and lips twisted in a scowl. "Whose brilliant idea was this?"

Zhen coughed. "It was mine, my Lord. I overheard you asking Octavia to tell you about that night. And well, I was curious. The rest of them met me out in the hall listening in and here we are."

"I should put you all on cleaning duty for this." He scowled at his colleague, who leaned in the far corner of the study. "Really Levi? I thought you above this kind of folly."

The Councilman shrugged a shoulder. "I have reasons to want to learn more."

Octavia caught Sicero's hand. "It's all right."

"Are you sure?" His fingers curled over hers for too short a moment.

"I'm an educator at heart. Curiosity intrigues me." Since they were acting like eager students, she would treat this like a lesson. She'd done many lectures on the history of necromancy to young and old at the archives. She moved to the head of the room, turning to face her class. "To understand what happened that night. You must first understand the events that led up to it. Feel free to stop me if you have questions or need clarity."

The ruffling of fabric filled the room as people got into more comfortable positions. Some sat on the floor while others found something to lean against.

Octavia waited until they settled to begin. "Up until around five hundred years ago, humanity thought the nether was only a place where the spirits of the departed went. But that changed when a necromancer glimpsed beyond eternity and discovered the ashen pits where the netherborne roam. Does everyone here understand what the netherborne and the ashen pits are?"

"Aren't the ashen pit a dumping ground for the gods' neglected creations?" Pilar asked. "Which is essentially what the netherborne are?"

"That's a very shallow understanding. The netherborne occupied this world in a time long before humans did. But they ravaged it, much like they're doing now. The gods deemed them too violent and destructive and cast them into the ashen pits.

"For us necromancers, the discovery of the ashen pits was a pivotal moment in history. While finding something new is great, humanity's greatest flaw is that we can't mind our own business. Once our curiosity is piqued, we get this insatiable yearning to know more.

"And naturally, some started looking for ways to see into the nether, the same way we see into Eternity. We called that time the Song Bloom. Because so many new songs were composed during that time in hopes of getting a tiny glimpse into the pits."

"So you're saying if necromancers weren't so curious about the ashen pits, we wouldn't be in this predicament?" Ezra asked. "And you wonder why everyone hates you all."

Quintus barked a laugh. "Don't act all high and mighty, priest. The Divine City isn't a shining pillar of morality either. I doubt things would've been different if the priests had discovered the ashen pits first. Don't mind the prefects and their sweet nothings about saving humanity and restoring this world. They're curious about the netherborne too."

"Moving on," Octavia said, before Quintus started an argument. "A hundred years after the discovery of the ashen pits, a breakthrough was finally reached. A link was found between this world and the ashen pits."

"What kind of link?" the head medic asked. She sat cross-legged on the floor with a notebook and pen in one hand, while the other twisted her pigtail.

"It's..." Octavia bit her lip and took a moment to put her thoughts in order. "You can think of this world, the ashen pits and eternity like rooms in a building. They're connected by doors, but to get through said doors, one needs to meet certain conditions. While our forefathers found the door between this world and the ashen pits, no one knew the conditions needed to get through.

"But they could glimpse past the door, peep through the keyhole so to speak. However, everyone who glimpsed the ashen pits went mad. They hallucinated, threw themselves from the pinnacles of the archives; there are even accounts of some peeling off their own skin. For a long time following these events, no one dared to look past that door. Though it was speculated that the door could be opened with a Petalsong."

"What is a Petalsong?" Levi asked. He'd moved from his secluded corner to a spot near the fireplace.

"Petalsongs are the most powerful and dangerous forms of necromancy. Before that night, we only knew one—the Night-Blooming Rose. Those who attempted to play it disintegrated into a pile of rose petals before they could finish the first ten bars. Which is why our forefathers forced everyone who heard the song to swear an oath to never play it."

"Which brings me to the meat of this lesson." Octavia folded her arms and leaned against the wall. "I was working at the necromancy archives when we caught wind of someone searching for another Petalsong. A rogue necromancer we referred to as the Harbinger. It caused quite the frenzy at the archives. Teams were thrown together and deployed to all corners of the world to find this rogue."

Annabelle raised her hand. "Why the Harbinger? Didn't they have a name?"

Octavia shook her head. "Not a name, nor a face. Everyone we asked about this person, described them as being very ordinary. Most only glimpsed the back of their head or the side of their face. Quintus and I, along with our friend Celesta were sent to the desert regions, where we first caught the Harbinger's scent."

She met Sicero's eyes, and he looked away quickly, hands clasped together. "We followed their trailed far south, to the farming regions. We rode late into the night and as we neared a small village called Ingano, we heard the song, felt its power, and realized we were far too late."

"I'm sure you all have heard this part a million times before," Quintus said. He leaned forward in his seat. "The Petalsong that brought the netherborne into our world is called the Dawnfire Lily. Quite the tune—so soft, so beautiful, yet chilling. While Octavia went to help the villagers, Celesta, and I traced the song back to its source. But by the time we got there, the song had ended and only a pile of ash remained. And just when I thought the night couldn't get any worse, what do I hear? The Night-Blooming Rose."

Octavia grimaced. "I didn't think. I just—"

"Well,of course you didn't think."

"I had to do something Quintus. So I played the song and the next thing I knew, I was flying. It all happened so fast. I don't know how or why the song didn't kill me. There were times when I wish it had." She shrugged a shoulder. "I suppose none of it matters. I couldn't shut the door and the netherborne are here."

"Why didn't you just try a different song, the other song?" Zhen asked.

Octavia flinched at the question, and wrapped her arms around herself, staring at her toes. "Because the problem wasn't the song. It was me. A song can only be as strong as the necromancer playing it. And we need to choose the next song I play carefully, because it could kill me. We're not sure if anyone else can survive a Petalsong long enough for it to have an effect. We've had many... unsuccessful volunteers."

"We're not going to find another Harbinger anytime soon," Quintus said. "That maniac may have been the worst kind of evil, but they were a far better necromancer than any of us."

"What do you mean 'worst kind of evil?'" Sicero asked.

She continued to stare at her socked feet and curled her toes against the rug. "The worst kind of evil is silent. It doesn't boast. It's not loud or boisterous or cackles at the moon at night. It moves in broad daylight, smiles politely at you as pass by on the street. It may even invite you into its own home and offer you tea. Its motives are its own and its own alone, and you'll never know its plans until the world around you is burning."

Octavia looked up and found the room filled to capacity, with little standing room remaining. She'd been so engrossed in her lesson that she didn't her class size had doubled. "Are there any other questions?"

"I find it hard to believe that all this time our enemy was a faceless nobody," Ezra said.

"You can keep blaming me if that's the kind of motivation you need. I don't mind that people hate me, so long as they don't get in my way."

"Is the Night-Blooming Rose a song, or is it your title?" Pilar asked.

"Both, the song was attributed to me after I played it successfully." She gazed over the room. "Anyone else?"

"Before the Winter Ball, I'd never seen a netherborne larger than a building," Zhen said. "Are there many others like it? Or are they rare?"

Octavia breathed a mirthless laugh. "My dear, the netherborne you've been fighting are mere rodents. There are many larger than this island roaming the ashen pits. Count yourself fortunate that those can't get through."

"Why can't they?"

"Because my efforts weren't completely in vain. Remember that door I spoke about. While it's still open, it's only slightly ajar. The netherborne we see and fight in this world are the ones that manage to jostle their way through. If the door had remained wide open, humanity wouldn't have lasted a year."

A chorus of enlightened 'ohs' sounded through the room.

The High Priest stood and turned to face his subordinates. "All right. I think we've all berated Octavia enough for one night. I'm sure she's tired from the day events, as we all should be, and we have more to come tomorrow. Let's turn in."

There were a few grunts of disappointment, but the Priests obliged, filing from the study. Murmurs of conversation trailed in their wake as they disappeared down the hall.

Councilman Levi stopped at the threshold and looked back. "Thank you Octavia. This has been, enlightening. And I apologise for my crude behaviour. I figured since Lyra is... the way she is, I should learn as much as I can."

"Think nothing of it. How is she?" Octavia asked.

"As good as she can be considering. Annabelle gave her something to help her sleep. I'm not sure what else I can do."

"Just be there for her. She's going to be uncomfortable for a little while, until her sight and hearing adjusts. But Lyra's a strong girl. Have some faith in her."

He nodded. "I should head up to check on her. Goodnight."

Octavia sat on the couch once again and exhaled a long breath. While her bones were weary, her mind was buzzing with the euphoria she got after a long lesson. There was something special about imparting knowledge. Giving people something they didn't have before, something they'd carry with them for the rest of their days. Something they could spread. Knowledge was indeed, the best disease.