Octavia groaned at the light filtering through her eyelids. Her mouth and throat felt as though she'd spent the night eating sawdust, her chest was tight and a familiar ache pulsated through her with every beat of her heart.

How long had she played for? Five, six hours maybe. A little overzealous, but if it meant getting rid of the netherborne, she'd play for five or six years. Necromancy came with a price of horrible discomfort. Which was pittance when it meant the survival of humanity.

She raised her head from the armrest of the love seat, and her neck cried out in protest. "Dear gods." Her flute rolled from her chest, and she caught it just before it hit the ground. With slow and careful movements she sat up and stretched her arms and legs, working the stiffness from her limbs. She had no idea what time of day it was, but hopefully, it was not too late for breakfast.

Realisation struck her hard in the gut. She had to go to work. "Damn it." She'd completely forgotten that she had to teach today. Being late on her first day would make a horrible impression. She scrambled to her feet and all but dove into her luggage for suitable attire. Then she pounded up the steps to the lone room on the second floor, the dress hanging from her arm nearly tripping her on the way up.

A bed, and a chest of drawers with a mirror above it were its only furnishings. More bland art hung from the walls and heavy curtains covered the windows. In the center of it all was a claw-foot tub filled with water. Someone must have drawn the bath for her the previous day. It had probably been hot too. Shame.

Octavia stripped and eyed the tub as though it were a mountain she needed to move. She'd stared down an army of netherborne; a cold bath was nothing.

As soon as she eased herself into the water, grogginess fled her body. The cold sunk its teeth into her flesh and pierced through to the bone. But she powered through it and washed herself as fast as her hands could move.

Then she wrapped herself in a towel and shivered her way to the mirror to get her unruly braids in order. They were fraying, with the kinks and coils of her hair escaping their prison, and she made a note to redo them when she had time.

After Octavia was neat and dressed, she went back downstairs and packed away her books. Her last meal was on the boat the previous day, but there was no time for breakfast. So starvation would join misery and pain as her companions this day.

She donned a second layer of warm clothes, grabbed her flute case and headed out. A fresh layer of snow had fallen overnight, and the glare of the sun reflecting off it made her squint. As she crunched through, the forest drew her gaze.

Octavia didn't get the sensation of pinpricks under her skin, which meant the netherborne were gone. Her long gauntlet of playing had worked, and this island could be at peace once again. She would revel in this small victory, but she wouldn't allow it to get to her head.

It was just one small battle in a ceaseless war. There were many other villages out there like Hedalda if not worse. But not for long. So long as there was breath in her body and a song in her heart, she would not stop until she eradicated every single netherborne from this world.

Still, there was more work to do here in Hedalda. Eradicating the netherborne alone wouldn't clear the cloud of gloom hanging over this village. For that, they'd need the help of Jaredeth and several other surrounding kingdoms—most of which had cut ties with this place after the scourge took up residence.

Octavia picked up her pace as she passed the other handful of homes on her street. Outside one there was a man shoveling snow away from his porch. "Good Morning ma'am."

"Good morning," she said with a smile or nod, hoping he would want to engage in neighbourly banter.

"Are you the new teacher? My boy Lyle told me about you." He gave her a boyish grin, and for the first time she noticed his bright blue eyes and freckled face, offset by a healthy beard.

She resisted the urge to groan out loud and inched away. "Indeed, I am, but I fear I may be late so..." Her words trailed off as she caught a glimpse of blue coming around the house. A daywalker floated to the front yard and went through the opened door. 

Her hand flew up to grip the necklace at her throat, and it writhed in her choking grasp. No. No, she had to be seeing things. The daywalker knelt down and stroked the head of a small calico cat.

"Oh no, you're fine," the gentleman was saying. "The first bell hasn't rung yet and..." He frowned and looked back towards his door. "Is something the matter ma'am?"

Octavia ignored the roar of her pulse in her ears and snapped her attention back to him. "N-no, not at all. I was just admiring your cat." She nodded to the animal in question, who was bristling at the daywalker.

"Oh, Beauty? She's technically my wife's cat. She's been pretty jumpy lately, not sure why." He scratched his hair, one hand akimbo as he frowned at the animal.

I can think of one reason. But she planned on keeping that reason to herself.

"Sorry, it seems I've held you up." He gave her a nod. "Have a nice day ma'am."

"You too." Octavia gave a tight smile and turned to continue her trek to work. Her body felt stiff as though she'd spent the night outside. What in the name of sin and symphony was going on? She tightened her grip on the flute case as her mind raced with the possibilities.

If the daywalkers were still here, perhaps the netherborne were too? But how? She played the songs to send them back to the ashen pits. Maybe it hadn't been enough. Maybe she'd finally met her match, uncovered a scourge she couldn't beat.

No. Octavia refused to let that thought solidify itself into a belief. There had to be something else, some unseen force she hadn't accounted for. She should've gone with her initial plan and investigated the situation. It wasn't too late now. But investigating meant going beyond the barrier that protected the village to see the scourge for herself.

She'd have to do it under the cover of night. After only one day here, she was going to break both the rules laid out by the Chief Councilor. Well, one. The netherborne presence was an emergency and enough of an excuse to venture out at night. As for going beyond the barrier, she'd deal with whatever consequences befell her.

The schoolhouse came into view, just as the first bell sounded. Its ring blared through the entire village, the vibrations invading Octavia's senses and sending a familiar warmth through her. The same warmth she'd felt when they breached the barrier yesterday. So the bell's toll was a ward as well. The Priests in this village were not to be trifled with.

Octavia finally made it to work, sighing as she entered the warm interior of the building. Cubbyholes and cabinets greeted her, labeled with names. Beside it was an empty desk with a chair behind it.

Hanging in cubbyholes were small jackets, scarves and bags that belonged to equally small people. There was a large one to left with her name on it and rested inside was a basket of sweets decorated with bows and ribbons. As she picked it up, a card fell away from its bottom.

"Welcome Miss Octavia!" it said, in bright painted letters. All the children had signed their names along with their teacher. She would have been moved by the gesture if she wasn't wound up from the morning's events.

She put the gift back and relieved herself of her scarf and coat. Murmuring drifted towards her from down the hall and she followed them to a door with covered in chipping blue paint. When she knocked, the noise inside ceased, and the door swung open.

A woman who Octavia assumed to be Winslet stood beyond the threshold. She was tall in stature and wore slacks and suspenders with a crisp white shirt. Her dark eyes widened at the sight of Octavia, and she glanced back at her class.

"Uh... what are you doing here?" she asked, brows coming together.

Octavia found her rudeness off-putting, and bit back a scathing retort before it could escape her lips. "I'm here to teach music. Am I in the wrong place?"

Winslet eased the door shut and leaned back against it, stuffing her hands into her pockets. "You must be Octavia then. You're in the right place but at the wrong time. The children don't have music lessons until after the second bell."

Octavia was careful to keep her frustration from her face and her voice leveled. "I see. I was only told to report to the schoolhouse today." All she could think about was that freezing cold bath, the empty pit in her stomach and her nigh frozen toes.

"So Beatrix didn't tell you." She sighed and shook her head. "She gets forgetful sometimes. Oh, I'm Winslet, by the way, nice to meet you." She shoved a hand in Octavia's face.

"Likewise." Octavia shook the woman's hand, hoping none of the irritation she was feeling seeped into the gesture.

"Do you have a lesson plan ready?" Winslet asked.

Octavia heaved a sigh and resisted the urge to slap herself. She'd forgotten about that too. "I don't, actually."

"It's all right. You just got in yesterday, and it's rough settling into a new place. I'll let it slide this time. You still have until the second bell. But since you're here, why don't I introduce you to the children?" She opened the door, and the murmurs of soft conversation drifted into the hall.

Octavia followed her into the classroom. It was bigger than she expected. Light blue paint covered the walls, along with children's doodles and handprints. Sixteen desks sat arranged in a neat semicircle in the room's center. A larger desk was up front, back-dropped by a blackboard with math problems on it.

But all of that faded into the background when Octavia spotted the two daywalkers in the classroom – one man, one woman. They floated behind one of the boy children and stared right at her. 

The children sat up straighter as Octavia stood before them with their teacher. All eyes were on her – the shiny new person.

"Class, this is Miss Octavia," Winslet said. "As you already know, she'll be your music teacher, and will take over class after the second bell. I expect you all to treat her as you would treat me. Is that clear?"

"Yes ma'am," the children chimed in unison.

"Is there anything you want to say to them?"

Octavia opened her mouth to speak but nothing came out. It was a rare moment for her – walking into a situation unprepared. It didn't help that the children were looking at her with eager expressions, like they expected her to tell them the meaning of life. "I look forward to working with you all," she finally said. How dumb. This was a children's music class, not a business venture.

"Good. We'll have to say goodbye to Miss Octavia for now, but she'll be back later, all right?" With that, they stepped back out into the hall. "Well, that was awkward." Winslet ran a hand through her short cropped hair.

Octavia dashed the moment from her mind. She wished she could dash this entire morning away with it.

"I suppose you could stay in the office upstairs if you don't want to go back home. Or go somewhere else. It's entirely up to you. There are materials in the cabinets near the cubbyhole. Use whatever you need. Take care." Winslet gave her a little wave before disappearing into the classroom.

For a while Octavia just stood there, cursing this morning. Her first official day in Hedalda and everything that could go wrong was going wrong. She wanted nothing more than to go home and crawl into bed, pretend this day never happened and try again tomorrow.

But this was the price of being a liar, of keeping up a farce. She had to keep spinning the web of lies and ensuring every strand was in place, reinforcing those that were weakened.

Or everyone would find out who she truly was.