One week. That was how long it had been since Octavia saw a netherborne. She'd been playing her flute religiously every night, just enough to keep the scourge at bay, and maybe annoy her neighbours.

She wondered how long her presence alone would deter the netherborne. How long it would be before there was an attack. Every night she went to bed fearing that she'd wake up to the walls of her residence caving in. The worry and paranoia sat over her head like a thick, grey cloud, ready to burst and rain down on her.

But luckily for Octavia that cloud had a silver lining. The boat was coming in today–if it hadn't already arrived. And, if her letter had reached its destination on time, reinforcements would be here.

Octavia headed out the door. It was still early–an hour or more before the second bell would ring–and a bleak, grey sky hung over Hedalda, along with a repressive chill that crushed her shoulders into a hunch. They had seen no snow for three days, but if the thick clouds hanging in the north were any indication, they'd be getting more soon.

She walked along the frozen ground, flute case in hand. The windows of the neighbouring houses were dark, and the street was empty save for one daywalker pacing along a wooden fence. She squeezed her hand into a fist so the squeak of her glove would fill the silence.

The quiet was the most unnerving thing about Hedalda, even more so than the netherborne. At least she knew how to deal with the scourge. In Avaly there was always talk and laughter, people about. That place had been lively, even with the netherborne present.

And the lack of that was what made the silence in Hedalda so chilling. It made the town feel empty. There was nothing to remind her that there was still life there. That she wasn't alone.

When Octavia reached the end of her road, she turned away from the schoolhouse to round the pond. Up ahead, two people stood on the bridge, one unmistakably Councilwoman Diann—that red hair could signal boats into the harbor.

Standing with her, was a man dressed from head to toe in black finery, with a large, cross-shaped contraption leaning on the guardrail next to him. Diann leaned in and touched his shoulder, saying something that elicited a dazzling smile from the man.

Octavia arched a brow, picking up her pace as she neared the bridge. She took careful steps onto the ice-slicked stone, using the guardrail for leverage. The man glanced over Diann's shoulder and caught her eye, giving a small smile, while councilwoman turned, following his line of vision.

"Octavia, my darling," the man said, taking her hand and pulling her into a hug.

"Quintus." She returned his embrace, a smile breaking out on her face. "It's been too long. You look well."

"Thank you. I feel well." With his strong jawline, disarming smile and dark yet gentle eyes, Quintus was considered by many to be the epitome of beauty. The perfect balance of hard and soft features.

"You know each other." Diann's lips pressed into a thin line.

"Of course. Octavia is the friend I told you about, the one who invited me here."

"So she is." Her face remained impassive, but the glint in her eyes belied her irritation. "I should get back to the hall. I'll leave you to it." She gave Quintus a tight smile before heading over the bridge, back straight and steps measured.

"She's not too fond of you, is she?" Quintus asked when the councilwoman was out of earshot.

"She's taken issue with the council's decision to hire me. I understand her reasons, but not her hostility." Octavia sighed and leaned against the bridge's stone rail. "Thanks for coming. I hope the trip out wasn't too horrible."

"It wasn't, by being here is." He rolled his shoulders and rubbed his arms. "By sin and symphony, there are a lot of netherborne here. And," he added, before Octavia could speak. "You have a worrying look about you."

She looked at him, arching a brow. "I don't know what you're talking about. I'm fine."

"No, you're not." He placed a hand on Octavia's shoulder. "Relax."

The muscles were raised and bunched up, like her body was preparing for something to jump out and attack her. She exhaled and lowered them, but doing so sent a jolt of pain running across her back.

"You may also want to ease up on the handle of your case. If you want it to last that is." He gave the item in question a pointed look.

Octavia shifted it and frowned at the imprint left behind on her glove. Her hand shook, and she swallowed, her heart fluttering in her chest. The scourge was affecting her in ways she hadn't accounted or prepared for. She needed to find what was keeping them in Hedalda before they stole her sanity.

"I don't like this," Quintus said, rubbing his arms. "I'm beginning to feel it as well."

"I haven't dealt with a scourge like this before. There are thousands of them, here on this island. It's like a veritable army."

"We'll talk about it later. You have a class to teach, don't you?" He shouldered his massive case and gestured for her to lead the way. Together they walked back over the bridge, towards the schoolhouse.

"Did you bring the books?" Octavia asked. "It was the only excuse I could think of to get you here without raising too much suspicion."

"Of course. These children aren't rotten, are they? I swear the class in Avaly finds new ways to drive me up the wall every day."

"No, quite the opposite, actually. I think you'll be pleasantly surprised."

When they got to the schoolhouse, Octavia stepped inside first, holding the door open so Quintus could shimmy in with his case.

"I didn't know we were having a guest today," Pilar said with a smile as she slid a leather-bound book across the desk. "I should give this back before I forget."

"I'll have to bring another one tomorrow. How was it?"

"Oh, it was beautiful and heartbreaking. I hate the author for making me root for Rose to find her love, even though I knew she'd be heartbroken in the end."

Quintus cleared his throat.

"Oh, uh. Pilar this is Quintus. I used to work with him in Avaly." Octavia placed a hand on her friend's shoulder. "Quintus this is Pilar. Avid reader, Priestess and guardian of the schoolhouse."

"Charmed, my lady." He took Pilar's hand and brushed a kiss over the back. Octavia rolled her eyes. Of course he had to make everyone in the village fall in love with him before he rode off into the sunset.

The elder woman cleared her throat loudly, her cheeks tinged pink. She opened her mouth to say something but the third bell blared.

"We should get to class." Octavia pulled Quintus towards the cubbyholes before shoving her extra layers of clothes inside.

Quintus stuffed his own vestments next to hers and they made their way to the classroom. "You made friends with a priest? Morrigan must be twisting in her grave."

Octavia scoffed. Her old hag of a mentor was too much of a fundamentalist. The usual sounds came from in the class–Miss Winslet telling everyone to pack up, the scrapes up chairs, and hushed conversation.

Octavia did her usual knock and enter routine. "Good afternoon."

"Hi Octavia," Winslet said, as she stuffed a stack of papers in the desk. "Can you..." Her words trailed off, and she gazed at a spot over Octavia's head. "Who is this?"

"This is Quintus, a friend and colleague of mine."

"Oh, well, can you make sure they carry their homework? Some of them can get forgetful. See you tomorrow." And she was out the door.

"Nice to meet you," Quintus said to her retreating back. He scrunched his brows and tapped Octavia's shoulder before leaning in close. "There are daywalkers in here." He eye-pointed to the two hanging over Tallis' shoulders.

"Really? I hadn't notice." Octavia placed her flute case on the desk and turned to address the class. "Settle down everyone. As you can see, we have a guest today. This is Mr. Quintus, a good friend of mine. I expect you all to be on your best behavior."

One of the children's hands shot up, eager little fingers wiggling. She should've expected questions. Quintus was the shiny new person now, and they'd want to spend a good chunk of the class interrogating him.

"What's your question?" Quintus asked, before Octavia could think better of it.

Kensi leaned forward in her seat. "Are you Miss Octavia's boyfriend?"

Octavia ground her teeth together, lest she say something she'd later regret. She shouldn't have expected any less from Kensi. The child was blunt like her mother.

Quintus barked a laugh that quickly turned into a cough when Octavia glared at him. "My apologies. I seem to be coming down with something. But no, I am not Miss Octavia's boyfriend."

Another hand shot up, belonging to Tallis, and Octavia gave him a nod. "Are you a musician too? Can you play a flute?"

"Yes, I am a musician. But no, I play the glass harp." Quintus set his case down, balancing it against the desk.

Arietta scrunched her brow. "I know what a harp is, but I've never heard of one made of glass."

"Actually, it's not uh..." He looked at Octavia. "May I demonstrate?"

"Sure Quintus," Octavia said, pulling up a chair. She settled in as crossed one leg over the other. "Just barge in and take over my class."

"Don't mind if I do. Children, you are in for a treat."

As long as Octavia had known Quintus, she still didn't understand how his contraption of a case worked. She knew it was a bunch of boxes attached to each other with a puzzle of leather straps and metal latches that only he could decipher.

He flipped a few latches, pulled a few straps and the top box came free. "I'll need some water and a bowl." After setting it on the desk he opened it like a book. Rows of wine glasses were nestled in the velvet interior.

"We'll get it." Lyra took Arrietta's hand and went to the shelf in the back of the room. The children brought two pitchers of water and a wooden bowl to the desk.

As Quintus filled the glasses he knelt so his eyes were level with them. The process took longer than Octavia would've liked, but she knew better than to interrupt him. Quintus was meticulous about his craft, but that was part of what made him a stellar musician and necromancer.

"All right," he said, pouring the last of the water into the wooden bowl. "This is a glass harp."

"Those are just glasses of water," Tallis said.

Quintus smiled and dipped his fingers in the wooden bowl, rubbing them together. "Indeed, but with a little bit of magic." He ran a finger along the rim of the glass, and a soft sweet sound filled the room.

The children gasped, eyes wide and mouths agape.

"Are you a wizard?" Arietta asked, her grey eyes sparkling with wonderment.

Octavia resisted the urge to roll her eyes. If this kept up, Quintus' head would grow big enough to sink the whole island.

"No, just a lowly musician. How about I play something for you all?" He wet his hands again and played a slow melancholic melody. The sounds weaved through the room, rising and falling in gentle waves.

Octavia smiled and allowed herself to get lost in the song. It had been years since she'd last heard Quintus play, and the glass harp was an intoxicating instrument. To think something as simple as glasses of water could produce a sound sweeter than a babe's laughter. Now that she was hearing it again, she didn't want him to stop. She could float on those beautiful notes for all eternity.

When the song ended, the children applauded and Quintus gave an exaggerated bow.

"That song was so pretty," Kensi said.

"It's one of my favourite ballads," he explained. "Called the Dissonant Three."

Tallis raised his hand. "What's a ballad?"

"It's a song that tells a story," Lyra said before Quintus could answer. "Do you know the story Mr. Quintus?"

"Of course." Quintus came around the desk and leaned against it.

Octavia cleared her throat. "That story may be a bit too scary."

"So are the netherborne, but they're here." He flicked the lingering droplets of water from his hands. "This story takes place in a time nigh forgotten. Long before humanity knew this world, long before we traversed its hills and valleys, it was known as The Plains of Ash. And on these plains the gods waged war for many millennia."

Lyra's hand shot up. "Why were they fighting?"

"Money, power, love? It's not important. What does matter is that there were defectors amongst their ranks. A dissonant three who refused to fight. Ozyn of death,Temori of earth, and Aurora of light. They made a domain of their own, where they rested until the fighting ceased.

"And when they emerged into the plains of ash, they found death and destruction at every corner. Countless corpses covered the lands, and the waters ran red with blood. The stench of death and malice and discord clung to the air and smoke and dust blocked out the sun.

"So the dissonant three pooled their power and created the ancients. Beautiful, elegant beings with the grace of butterflies and voices sweeter than a nightingale's. And they gave the ancients the gifts of sin and symphony so may create life anew from death and destruction. The end."

"That's it?" Tallis asked.

"It's a song my dear boy, not a three act play." Quintus leaned over the desk and began fiddling with his case again. "And while we're on the topic of stories, I have something for you all." He lined the boxes up beside him and opened them one at a time. Books filled their interiors, all colourful spines and crisp pages. "Happier stories. Hopefully. I haven't read them all."

"Are all of those for us?" Lyra asked, mouth agape.

"Indeed, they are. Octavia asked me to bring them. So be sure to thank her."

"Thanks so much Miss Octavia," Tallis said. "That's so cool of you."

"You're welcome." Octavia rose from her seat. "Why don't you all come pick out a book to take home?"

The children rushed up to the front and browsed the selection of books, with Quintus masquerading as a librarian.

"What's this one about?" Arietta held up one bound in red-stained hide.

"Ah, The Star Chaser," Quintus said, nodding his head with scholarly approval. "That's about a girl who wanted to live on the moon, so she builds a flying machine to try to reach it."

Octavia picked up a thick, leather-bound tome with plates of metal accenting the four corners. She'd specifically asked Quintus to bring this one in her letter. "Lyra?"

The child whipped her head around, dreadlocks swaying with the motion. "Yes, ma'am?"

"I believe you might be interested in this one."

She took the tome and turned it over in her hands. "What's it about?"

"Necromancers."