Even up in her room, Octavia heard the excited chatter from the villagers. There would be time for her to celebrate later. She wanted to draft her letter to the archives while the idea was still fresh in her mind. As she breezed by the widow, the silhouette of her plant caught her eye. She eased the curtain open and marveled at the small tree.

The thing had flourished much more than she expected, sprouting new branches and leaves every day despite the cold. Marin had given her a planter and potting soil, along with an old teapot to store water for it. The trunk was a thick as her thumb now, and the whole thing half as high as the window. To think a tiny bone turned into this.

With necromancy, death can bring forth disease and destruction or it could bring forth life and beauty.

Octavia let the curtain fall and sat on her bed, her thoughts racing. The kind of necromancy Kaleri spoke about couldn't be the same necromancy she'd learned at the archives. It was leaps and bounds beyond her comprehension or skill level. Then why would Kaleri ask her to sing the song?

The arsonist wields the flame as a weapon of destruction, but the blacksmith wields the flame as a tool of creation.

Intent was a cornerstone of necromancy one of the more difficult aspects of the art to master. Perhaps because their human minds objected to consorting with the dead. There was also the fear of tampering and digging into the art and causing another disaster. The necromancers of today weren't nearly as bold or ambitious as their forefathers.

And perhaps that was what held them back. The key to mastering necromancy didn't lie with sin and symphony, it lied with intent. Throwing away all reservations and fears about tampering with what lied beyond life.

That was what the Dawnfire Lily did, what Eli did. And it was what she needed to do to save humanity. Was that what Kaleri was trying to show her?

The revelation left Octavia shaking. She pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes, breathing slow and even to calm her fluttering heart. If she was right, that meant...

Octavia jumped up front the bed and grabbed her jacket and flute case before running from the room. Her pounding footfalls rebounded off the walls and echoed down the corridor. The steps of the foyer slowed her down, and she nigh bumped into a group of priests headed outside. She muttered an apology and rounded the staircase heading into the northwest corridor.

When Octavia burst into the infirmary, she met Lyra and Levi in the waiting room with Annabelle.

"Octavia, is everything all right?" Levi asked.

She nodded her head as she leaned over with hands on her knees and tried to catch her breath. All this time in Hedalda had left her terribly out of shape. "I didn't expect to see you all here. Lyra, how are you feeling?"

"I'm better. My ears don't hurt as much anymore. But I..." Lyra grimaced and worried the hem of her sweater.

"What is it? Is something else bothering you? Your eyes, maybe?" A lot of inconveniences came with budding necromancy, and she'd advised Levi to give his daughter some time away from school to cope.

Lyra looked down at her hands. "You knew Arietta was going to die, didn't you?"

The question hit Octavia like a slap, and she winced.

"That's why everyone was being so nice to her. Giving her gifts, asking her what she wanted to do. You all knew."

Octavia wanted to hang her head in shame. Of course Lyra, the sharp, observant girl she was, would see through their ruse. She locked gazes with Levi and his eyes pleaded with her to lie, but she shook her head. Lyra could handle it, and it was best she knew the ugly side of necromancy early.

She sat beside the girl in the couch. "Lyra, Arietta died over a year ago from her sickness. The Arietta you've known since then is a cadaver. Her soul was trapped inside her body by her father."

Lyra's head whipped around, her dread swaying. "Mister Eli is a necromancer?"

Was. She bit her tongue before the word could escape and nodded. "He did the same thing to his wife."

"W-why? He was always so careful and gentle with Arietta."

Because she was his precious experiment. "Because he's an evil bastard who deserves to rot in the ashen pits for a million eternities. The why of it is not for you to understand. This is the ugly side of necromancy, my dear. But just because a handful of necromancers are evil doesn't mean we all are. Don't ever feel as though you have to bear the burden or punishment of your peers' choices." She grimaced. "Although, saying that makes me a bit of a hypocrite, doesn't it?"

Lyra shook her head. "I don't think so, but what happens now? Are Arietta and her mom stuck here? Tallis told me you said souls get trapped forever."

"No, they're not stuck here."

"They're not?" Levi and the head medic asked in unison.

Octavia shook her head. "I can help them, but we need to be discreet. I don't want to raise any suspicions amongst the villagers. Well, any more than needed. Levi, any ideas for where we can put a green space in the town?"

"Beatrix and I were discussing demolishing the florist shop in light of what happened. But it's the last building before the lake. And with everyone gathered out front, there's a risk of us being seen."

She stood and paced out of habit. "We'll need a diversion, then we can skirt around the south side of the village to the back of the florist shop. I'll need Quintus' help too."

"Can I come?" Lyra asked.

"Sure."

"No," Levi said.

Octavia rolled her eyes. "She knows the ugly side of necromancy now. She should know the good side too."

"Please, papa." Lyra looked up at her father with pleading eyes.

"Fine. You can go." He nodded to Octavia. "I'll see if I can get Beatrix to distract the crowd so you can get by. Hopefully Quintus is out there too."

"If not, I can send someone to find him," Annabelle said. "And I'll gather a team to help you transport the bodies."

***

Half an hour later, Octavia stood at the back of the Cathedral with a team of three medics. One carried Arietta while two carried Pauletta on a stretcher. Lyra worried the edge of her scarf, squinting at a daywalker wandering around the horses.

Quintus came around the building. "Octavia, what..." He looked back and forth between the medics and the cadavers. "What's going on here?"

"Talk later," Octavia said, grabbing him by the arm. "We need to move." They rounded the building, stopping just before they were in view of the fire pit. For a while, only the sounds of merriment came from the front of the Cathedral, and she wondered if Levi ran into trouble.

She peeped around the corner and caught him exchanging words with Beatrix and Winslet, but their conversation drowned out by the sea of chatter.

After a few more minutes, the Head Councilor broke off from the group. "Everyone gather around!"

As the crowd turned away, their group broke into a jog, weaving through the trees at the south edge of the village. While Beatrix regaled the crowd with encouraging words of rising above adversity and rebuilding from the rubble, they slipped away, moving past the pond to the eastern side of the village.

"Are you all right, Lyra?" Octavia asked.

The girl jogged alongside her, breath puffing in front of her face. "I-I think so."

They made it to the rear of the florist and ducked to the back of the building, out of view and earshot. Octavia took out her flute, assembling it blindly while she searched for a decent spot for the bodies. A well sat at to east side and a tree to the west, but apart from that, the yard was empty.

She dragged her foot and made a line from the door to the middle of the yard. "Lay them on either side of this line, ten feet apart."

"In the snow?" the medic asked.

"In the snow." Octavia flexed the numbness from her fingers and did a quick breathing exercise.

"Are you sure about this?" Quintus asked.

"Yes." The conviction in her voice surprised even her, but it was easy to cast doubt aside considering what she was about to do. "Can you contain the song, please? I don't want to alert anyone until we're done."

"Sure."

When the medics laid Arietta and her mother in place Octavia raised her flute to her lips. There was no hesitation this time, no fear as to whether or not she could do the song justice. She didn't think, only played.

Kaleri's song filled the yard, the smooth, sweet notes falling over the cadavers. A radiating ache settled in her chest but she didn't falter. This had to work. Arietta had suffered enough in life; she didn't need to suffer in death too.

As the song reached its peak, the cadavers grew paler, nearly blending in with the snow. Roots grew from their arms and legs and dug into the ground while branches sprouted from their chests reaching up for the sun. The snow receded like ebbing waves, pulling away from the grass and wild flowers shooting from the earth. They swayed to the melody of the song and filled the air with the scent of new life.

The trees sprouted trumpet flowers that hung low to the ground like willow leaves and swayed like church bells. A blue glow rose from the roots, up the trunk and into the flowers. It gathered between the trees and morphed into two daywalkers.

Arietta and her mother stood hand in hand staring at each other with wide, glowing eyes. Pauletta scooped her daughter up in her arms and twirled her around, and Arietta's airy giggles weaved in with the song. They paused their merriment to face Octavia. Pauletta inclined her head in a bow, while Arietta gave an enthusiastic wave, and they both disappeared in a cloud of white petals.

The pain in Octavia's chest redoubled, but she pushed through the rest of the song, even though every breath felt like inhaling fire. When it was all over, she lowered her flute and wiped the moisture from her eyes. The pain made her head spin, but it was well worth it. She'd done it, what they'd thought was impossible for so long.

"By sin and symphony." Quintus gazed at the greenery, slack-jawed and wide-eyed—an expression mirrored by Lyra and the medics. They walked around the trees in quiet astonishment, marveling at the lush, green life back-dropped by dead, frozen trees.

A horse's whinny broke through the silence as Levi rode in on a honey-coloured steed. He craned his neck up at the trees that stood higher than the buildings. "My gods. It worked?"

Octavia nodded. "They're free." Arietta, the sweet child she was, and Pauletta, the innocent soul she was, had made casting her doubts and fears away easy.

"Octavia, you brilliant, brilliant woman." Quintus seized her by the shoulders. "How? I must know."

"I had a bit of a revelation." She sat on the back step of the shop and rubbed her eyes to clear the black spots from her vision. "We've been holding ourselves back, Quintus."

"And by we you mean...?"

"Necromancers. We can't master sin and symphony until we toss out our reservations about consorting with the dead. We've created and fostered this mindset that what we do is taboo, and it's only serving to our detriment."

Quintus stuck his hands in his pockets and exhaled a long breath. "That's too heavy, even for me."

"It scares me. The reason Eli was so successful was because he didn't care. He had no doubt that was he was doing was just, and he was willing to hurt, manipulate or trample over everyone to achieve his goals. The Dawnfire Lily likely thought the same way. We're so scared of causing another disaster that we've stagnated ourselves. I don't think that's necessarily a bad thing but..." She shook her head. "I'm torn. Necromancy evolved so quickly in the past because our forefathers were bold. But look where their boldness led us."

He sat down next to her. "It makes sense, and in light of everything that's happened perhaps a bit of fear is good."

"But, in light of everything that has happened, we need to evolve. We're barely keeping up with the scourge. And you heard what Keleri said. The gods punished them because the netherborne ravaged this world." She rubbed her eyes. "I don't know what to do anymore. I don't want us to become the monsters everyone thinks we are."

"I understand." Quintus put an arm over her shoulder. "We'll keep this between you and I for now. If this gets to the archives, they'll want you to free all the souls in the crypt."

She closed her eyes as her head spun. "I'm not sure if I can. That took a lot out of me."

"If you want to head back, you should do so now. Once the crowd spots these trees they'll flock here."

"You can take my horse," Levi said, patting the mare's flank. "She's a tad on the older side but she rides smooth."

"Thanks." She mounted the steed with help from Quintus and made a slow ride around the edge of the forest. Despite her fatigue, she smiled. Arietta and her mother were free, off to Eternity to roam its beauty.

Octavia glanced looked back at the trees. The trumpet flowers swayed and vowed in the northern winds. Levi picked up Lyra so she could touch a low-hanging bloom just out of her reach. And that sight alone made all the frustration she'd endured worth it.

The lazy gallop through the snow took some edge off her fatigue. She left the horse at the Cathedral's rear and went up to her room. She'd never been happier to see a bed, but the daywalkers sitting on it ruined the moment. Tallis' daywalkers. So far away from their precious boy.

They jumped up when they saw her by the door and exchanged a look. The female of the pair floated forward, hands clasped together. "You're sending us away soon, aren't you?" Her words were distorted and airy as though she were speaking into a tube.

Talking to the dead was ill-advised, but Octavia had been curious about these daywalkers. "Yes." She walked past them and sat on her bed before she fell over from exhaustion. "Are you Tallis' parents?"

The male nodded. "We never left the village after..."

"Is there any way we can stay?" the woman asked, the glow in her eyes nigh blinding.

Octavia shook her head. "You don't belong here. You know that."

The daywalker pressed her lips together, a river of glowing tears streaming down her cheeks. The male took her in his arms and smoothed her wispy hair. Had she not grown so sick of their presence during her time here, she may have felt sorry for them.

"I just wish we could talk to him one last time," the woman said between sobs.

"And tell him what?" Octavia leaned to the foot of the bed and flipped open her trunk.

"How much we love him. How proud we are. We never got to say goodbye to him."

Octavia pulled a few sheets of paper, a pen and a thick tome from the trunk. Her letter to the archives could wait a little longer. "Now's your chance."