Octavia held the glass vial up, and it caught the light streaming through the living room window, splashing it in colours across the wall. Encased within was a single rose petal, blood red and curled on one end. So many years had passed, yet not the barest wrinkle marred it. She'd kept it as a reminder of that night, when so many of them had rained from the sky, and a reminder of her purpose and goal, too.

Like that rose petal, her resolve could and would never wilt. She would keep pushing back against the netherborne for all eternity and whatever came after it.

After returning from her hike through the woods, Octavia had pulled out all the tomes and scrolls on necromancy. Into the wee hours of the morning she pored over them, looking for any shred of information she could find on the mysterious red symbol.

And there was nothing. No mention of symbols at all. In all her years of necromancy, she'd encountered nothing like it. Necromancy was an "ever evolving art" as her old mentor would say. They discovered new techniques and rituals every other year. With that in mind, someone out there may know the origin of the strange symbol.

Octavia was pulled from her pondering by noise coming from the backyard. Noise in Hedalda? She rose from the couch and tossed on her coat and boots on before scurrying out the back door—eager to know what miracle had dashed away the soul-sucking silence.

Behind her residence, the terrain sloped down towards the trees that separated her house from the main road. The only things back there were old fencing that looked like it had once partitioned off a garden, and a stone well as a source for water.

At the belly of the incline, a group of priests stood in a neat line. In one hand, the held opened books, while the other was stretched out in front of them. Their humming chants filled the morning air as glowing text danced and weaved around their fingers. Two onlookers stood to the side—the High Priest, Sicero and a woman she'd yet to meet. The crisp red coat she wore resembled Beatrix's attire, and the sword at her hip not unlike Pilar's. Another member of the Council.

Octavia bit the inside of her cheek. It would be best if she minded her own business, as asking too many questions could raise suspicion. Or she could feign concern. The priests were the village's protectors after all, and seeing them out and about in small groups could mean something had gone awry.

She pulled her coat tighter around her and descended the incline. Halfway down, the councilwoman turned her head and frowned at Octavia. 

Sicero followed the line of her gaze, his expression friendlier. "Miss Octavia." 

Octavia returned his smile. "Good morning."

"Let me introduce you. This is Councilwoman Diann. Diann this is—"

"I know who she is," Diann said, turning back to watch the Priests, her glossy red hair swaying with the motion. "The music teacher. Kensi had much to say about her at dinner last night. Shouldn't she be at the schoolhouse, though?"

Octavia's brows shot up and she crossed her arms over her chest. "It's a pleasure to meet you as well, councilwoman." She turned her attention to Sicero. "Is something the matter?"

"Routine maintenance. Nothing to concern yourself with."

Sicero narrowed his eyes at his colleague. "You don't need to be so rude, Diann." 

"Am I being rude?" She gave the High Priest a sidelong stare over her shoulder. "I just find it funny that you and Beatrix would waste time and resources on something as frivolous as a music teacher when the netherborne are constantly breathing down our necks."

"So because despair is at your doorstep, your children shouldn't be able to live fulfilling lives enriched with happiness and culture?" Octavia asked.

The councilwoman snorted, the sound a vulgar contradiction to her tailored appearance. "And of course you would know what's best for our children after being here for a day."

The High Priest opened his mouth to speak, but a tremor rippled through the ground, shocking him into silence. The snow jumped as the earth shifted, and Octavia teetered on her feet before widening her stance to keep her balance. A split the ground from the edge of the barrier to the base of the hill.

"Get back," Diann said, drawing her sword.

A pile of rocks just beyond the barrier trembled, unfurling into a saurian form. The beast's sinuous body was plated with rock, and its long tail spiked with metal. Beady red eyes glinted in the late morning sun as it turned its gaze on them and released a haunting, hollow hiss. 

The scent of potpourri became so strong it made made Octavia's eyes water. Fear gripped her by the throat and squeezed hard. A netherborne. Attacking in broad daylight. They only got that bold when they'd already made a place their home. She hid her fisted hands in her pockets. 

"Keep chanting," Sicero told the other priests.

Octavia tensed every muscle in her body to stop herself from jumping in and helping. If she got involved, there would be no way to be discreet about it.

Sicero clutched the thick gold chain around his neck and began a chant of his own.

Octavia glanced between him and the netherborne. Her heart slammed against her ribs and roared in her ears like a caged animal desperate to escape.

"You can calm down," Diann said, rolling her eyes. "Sicero knows what he's doing."

Octavia ignored the woman, watching the monster instead.

The beast threw its head back and released a screech that could shatter glass. The line of priests took a step back as the netherborne charged the barrier, lashing out with its claws. A shimmering blue light ignited across the barrier where the monster's claws sunk in.

Octavia's toes curled inside her boots, and she ground her teeth together. It wasn't worth it to blow her cover if he could handle it. But that didn't make it less painful to watch.

The monster screeched again as it whipped its tail around and it slammed into the barrier, the sound like two boulders crashing together. 

Sicero crossed his arms, and his words manifested as glowing letters in front of his palms. The ancient text was not unlike those in her necromancy books, but Octavia couldn't make out what they said from her vantage point. The 

The netherborne screeched as the text coiled around it, thrashing like a fish out of water. Its tail slammed into barrier again as it rolled across the ground.

As Sicero chanting reached its peak, the text's white light spread across the monster's body. Bit by bit, the netherborne's armoured skin, flesh and bone peeled away and disintegrated into tiny white flower petals. They swirled through the dead trees and spread across the ground like the ashes.

The High Priest stopped his chanting and exhaled a long breath as the glowing text disappeared. "Is everyone all right?" The other priests gave him nods and thumbs up. "Diann, Miss Octavia?"

Octavia only heard him in passing, her eyes were focused on the petals fluttering through the frozen trees. He's strong, she realized, stronger than most other priests she'd encountered. He must have done his training at the Divine City, the heart of the Priesthood, under more reputable and experienced mentors.

"Miss Octavia?"

She startled and cut her eyes to Sicero. "I'm sorry. I'm just..." In awe. "...a little shaken up."

"Understandable. These things happen from time to time. I believe the chants rile them up." He looked back at the spot the netherborne had occupied moments ago. "Once we fortify the barrier, all should be well."

"I understand. I should head back. I need to get ready for class." She nodded to Diann. "It was nice meeting you councilwoman." And she took her leave, trudging back up the incline and through her back door.

For a moment, Octavia leaned against it, listening to the continued chants of the Priests. They were enough to keep the netherborne at bay, but not enough to eradicate them completely. And the scourge probably knew that. They were vicious and destructive, but not stupid.

Octavia set those thoughts aside and headed upstairs to get ready for class. At least today she had time to pick out proper clothes and put on make-up. She took out a long black dress with a corset top and painted her lips the colour of red wine. 

The symbol she'd drawn was still on the table, staring up at her, mocking her. She flipped it over crossed to her coat rack to properly cloth herself for the elements. The last thing she did before leaving was double-check her flute case to make sure the instrument was inside and grab both Lyra's book and a pocket-sized book of poetry to read on her long walk.

As Octavia crunched along through dusting of snow, the words blurred away, and her mind wandered back to the bickering between Sicero and Diann. She couldn't fault the councilwoman for feeling the way she did about her presence. It made little sense to worry about hiring a music teacher during such trying times.

Sicero seemed confident in his and his priests' ability to keep the netherborne at bay. While he was strong, the method he used was too slow, and ineffective when dealing with the scourge in large numbers. Which was why they'd keep having casualties.

Whether they liked necromancers or not, they needed one. They needed her. Necromancers had brought the scourge into this world, they could send it back whence it came. But she couldn't help the village until she knew why the netherborne had returned even after her song.

She needed reinforcements, but how would she get someone here without raising suspicion? It might prove troublesome. She wasn't even sure how to contact anyone outside of Hedalda. 

When Octavia finally made it to the schoolhouse, the third bell hadn't rung yet, and she wondered if she was early. It would probably take her a while to adjust to the rhythm of this place. Avaly had had a more rushed atmosphere to it. Days seemed to whizz by faster than they were supposed to. But Hedalda seemed slower, more relaxed. Activity in this place came in lazy waves that were few and far in between.

As Octavia stepped inside, she found Pilar lounged behind the front desk with her sword across her knee. With long, sure strokes, she ran a file along its edge, her brow wrinkled with concentration. On the table in front of her was a bottle of what looked like oil and a cloth.

"Good day," Octavia greeted, closing her poetry book.

Pilar looked up with a smile. "Oh, Octavia. You seem to be in better spirits today."

"Well, it's been a better morning." Octavia stuffed her coat into the cubbyhole. "Is there a way to send messages to the mainland? I need to contact a friend in Avaly."

"The Cathedral has courier birds. We don't fly them out if the weather is bad, but it seems like it's been clearing up these last few days. I'm sure Sicero wouldn't mind helping you out. Another, less efficient option would be to send it with someone on the boat. We're not due for one for a few days though."

"I see. Thank you." She reopened her poetry book and left her tiny, red bookmark where she'd left off.

"Is it a good one?" Pilar asked, nodding at Octavia's book.

"Oh, this old thing? It's just poetry. Would you like to borrow it?"

She gave a wave of dismissal. "I couldn't, you don't seem to be finished with it yet."

"I've read it a hundred times, so there's nothing new in it for me." She held the book out. "I insist."

"In that case I'll gladly take it off your hands. It's hard to find anything around here that isn't a textbook or manual." Pilar took the book and flipped through.

Octavia smiled as her mind lit up with an idea. An excuse to contact her colleague on the mainland and get him here with little-to-no suspicion. She'd draft a letter and take it to the High Priest as soon as school ended, and hopefully reinforcements would arrive within a week.

As soon as she reached the classroom door, the third bell rang, its chime pouring warmth over the village like morning sunshine.

"All right, let's pack up everyone." Winslet's said.

Octavia knocked before stepping inside. She met the same atmosphere as the previous day, with the kids putting their work away and tidying up the class. The desks were arranged in neat rows and columns, unlike the semicircle from the previous day. And the daywalkers were still there. Still following Tallis around, looking down at him with their eager, ghostly faces.

Winslet was cleaning her side of the board with quick, efficient passes of the eraser. "Oh, good you're here. Can you take over now? I need to head to council hall." She didn't wait for Octavia to answer and grabbed up her papers and bag before heading out the door. "Bye everyone!"

"Bye Miss Winslet," the kids called after her.

Octavia set her flute case on the desk. "Lyra, your book."

The little girl bounced over and took the object question, hugging it close to her chest. "Did you like it?" 

"It was... insightful." She wasn't about to tell the child that the latter half of her book was filled with lies. "I fixed the binding for you, so it shouldn't fall apart anymore."

"You did?" She opened the book and flipped through, her face lighting up when none of the pages fell out. "You did! Thank you so much, Miss Octavia." She ran off to join her peers. "Look, Tallis, Miss Octavia fixed it."

Octavia smiled. As the children took their seats, she noticed an empty desk next to Lyra. A certain grey-eyed girl had sat in it the previous day. "Arietta's not here today?"

"She's sick, so she misses a lot of school," Tallis said.

Octavia frowned. She remembered the dark hollowness around Arietta's eyes, the striking paleness of her face, but the child had seemed to be in good spirits regardless. Perhaps she could make arrangement for some home schooling. She dashed the thought from her head. Her job here was to teach music and end the scourge. It would be best to keep a reasonable distance from everyone. Students included.