Emi and I spend the next hour driving around Cabbage Edge. We turn the location finder off on our phones, just in case that's how the mafia tracked us down, but we're still scared they might have a way of hacking into the traffic light cameras and spotting our license plate. So we're stuck riding around in the car indefinitely until the mafia are caught and captured.

At last, we pull into a crowded, mall parking lot. We can only stay for about twenty minutes before we'll have to pick up and move again, but we need to solve the final clue. Once parked, I open my tablet up to a split screen, one half displaying the Prelude, the other displaying the final piece. Thank goodness I took pictures of the clues and scores.

"You know," Emi says, "Silverenn's descendants technically have all the clues."

"Yeah, but now they don't have the scroll from the museum." I unfurl it. "It appears to be some sort of map. They probably won't get far without this. Every resource Silverenn gives us is vital to completing the hunt."

Emi frowns. "Wait a minute... there was a clue we missed." My fingers freeze, tightening over the sides of the map. "Remember? There was a picture of a necklace in the safe. We never were able to find it." Her face crumples, on the verge of tears. "What if we can't find the treasure because we don't have the necklace?"

My teeth grate against each other as I consider her words. "Well, we'll cross that bridge if we get there. Even if that's the case, we can still create a trap for the mafia to stumble into." I turn my attention to the clue page. "The last clue says 'Correct the name of many past. Known for wrong it shall be last.'"

On the other side of my screen, the last title reads "Crypted Keystone." Very apt considering all the mind games we've been through.

"I should've known the last clue would be hard." Emi flops backward, her head landing on the hearest. "Why can't something be easy for once?"

"Of course they're going to build in difficulty."

Her head turns in my direction, though her eyes focus out the window, at the blue SUV we're parked beside. "What name could Silverenn be referring to? The name of the piece?"

"Maybe."

"You're not helping."

"I'm keeping possibilities open."

A slight pause fills the car. I stare at the notes that decorate the page, though my mind doesn't process them.

"It's a shame you don't have your instrument," Emi says with a sigh. "You could get your daily practice in right now and give us a chance to hear the piece."

My brow furrows. "And why would I do that?"

"The name of the piece might not match what we hear."

It takes a moment for her words to register. "So, while the title is Crypted Keystone, the music won't sound like a Crypted Keystone." My frown deepens. "But what does a crypted keystone even sound like?"

Emi shrugs. "It doesn't matter either way since you don't have you instrument."

"No, wait. You could be onto something." I pull out my phone and search up a virtual piano. I tap out the first few measures, and deep, eerie notes fill the car. Silverenn's back to the blatant disregard of key signatures. It's like she threw in as many dissonant intervals as possible. I pause, squinting at the music and attempting to make out a series of double sharped notes.

"I think that's good for now," Emi says, cutting me off. "It definitely sounds like an encrypted keystone."

"So, if the title of the piece fits the song, that's not the name that needs correcting." I pause for a second. "But maybe if we rearrange the words in the piece's title, we'll uncover the map's location. We're 'correcting' the name of her piece by figuring out the name of the map's location."

"Yeah." Slowly, Emi nods. "Yeah. I mean, why else would she have a fake word in the title? It should be encrypted, not 'crypted.'"

"Can you put the letters into a word generator?" I ask before realizing that Emi's hands already hold her phone. For someone obsessed with productivity, she really is addicted to that thing. Of course, she sees it as a tool rather than a distraction. But it's still ironic.

"You know, encrypted is one of the words you can make when you put both words together," Emi says after a moment. "Also typed, descent, center, serpent, ceder, oyster—"

"Emi, I'm sure we can make a million words with those letters. But we can't sort through the options all day."

"I know, but do you have a better idea?"

My lips press together in thought. "We should stick to using the score in some way to parse out the clue. Otherwise, she wouldn't have taken the time writing the piece."

"She might've, just to throw us off."

"Fair point. But still..." My gaze drifts to the clue again. Correct the name of many past. Known for wrong it shall be last. I look up. "Do you remember the second letter we got from Silverenn? How she said any word that could be the key to the puzzle? I think we need to focus on that, figure out which word is most crucial to the clue's interpretation."

"What are you thinking?" Emi asks.

"I'm thinking 'known for wrong' refers to the title or name we're supposed to correct." I pause. "The word 'last' seems pretty important, too. Maybe we need to look at the last measure." I turn my attention to the final page. "Huh, this is interesting. This is the only piece that has a D.C. al Fine at the end."

"So there are basically two endings," Emi finishes. "There's the measure at the end of the piece, and the 'fine' measure half-way down page one — the official end."

"Exactly."

"So we need to analyze one of those measures."

"Or both of them."

"So what's the name we're supposed to correct?"

We both go quiet. I stretch my legs out. They're starting to cramp from being in the confined space of the passenger seat for so long.

"Let's focus on what we do know. Or what we think we know," I say. "We can't waste time sitting around. There's too much to lose, or potentially gain." My eyes focus on the clock on the dashboard. We've been sitting here for eighteen minutes. Pretty soon, we should get going before Silverenn's descendants catch up to us.

Emi cranes her neck, and we start by writing out the names of the notes in each measure. When we're done, we decide to leave the parking spot we're in and move to a new location. On the way over, I figure out the scale degrees and chordal progression of both measures. It doesn't make any sense, though. After another half hour passes and we're parked in another lot outside a shopping plaza, we're no closer to the answer than before we started working on the clue.

"It just doesn't make sense," Emi says. "I was expecting it to spell some sort of location or coordinates, or something."

We tried both, plugging in the scale degrees and chord progressions as coordinates in varying combinations.

"That's the problem," I say. "We shouldn't expect anything from Silverenn."

A growl from Emi's stomach interrupts us. Suddenly, I'm aware of the cloud that's descended on my head, the pit that's yawning in my stomach. Emi glances around the shopping plaza, eyes landing on a pizzeria.

"Shall I order a pizza or something?" Emi asks.

"Pizza sounds good."

Emi stares at the building for a second. "Should we... go in there?"

I glance around, just like she had before. The surrounding cars, all basking in the afternoon sunlight, provide no answers.

"Maybe I'll call in the order, then pick it up in the store when it's ready," Emi says. She focuses on her phone screen, searching up the pizzeria's website. In the meantime, I continue to look at the score. The notes have blurred together, almost lost any meaning whatsoever. That's what happens when you scrutinize the same thing for almost an hour.

"Hello? Yes, I'd like to order a large—"

Emi's voice fades. The page blurs in and out of focus. I blink twice, and three inked words crystallize.

D.C. al fine

Correct the name of many past.

Many past what? Years? Decades?

Lives?

Correct the name of many past. Known for wrong, it shall be last.

D.C. al fine.

D.C. Silverenn?

"Cerise!"

I jump back to the present, head snapping toward Emi. She holds her cell phone a few inches from her ear.

"What toppings?" she asks.

"Anything." I grab my phone by my side. This time, I'm not waiting for Emi to lead the charge into research. I need answers right now. My thumbs fly across my phone screen, typing: 'wat was Silverns ull anme.' Fortunately, Google is smart enough to understand my spelling errors. At least, I think that's a good thing, though it could contribute to the rise of robots in the future.

Emi hangs up the phone. "I got olives on one half, artichokes on the other."

"Fine," I mumble, scrolling through the website I just clicked on. "Does the name Diema Capri mean anything to you?"

"No, who's that?"

"Apparently that's what Silverenn went by. She got her name changed in 1917, right before she went into business." I scroll down further. "Interesting. Apparently, she was going for a play on Carpe Diem, or Seize the day."

"Criminal activity isn't the best way to seize the day," Emi says.

"It only got her seized by the police. Though she escaped shortly after..."

"Her name is symbolic then," Emi says.

"Yes. You might say it's a name that many get wrong, a perception that should be corrected."

"Correct the name of many past?"

I stare right into Emi's eyes. "Exactly."

"What does Carpe Diem have to do with the piece?"

"I don't think it's a coincidence that Silverenn changed her first and middle name to Diema Capri Silverenn in 1917. It's a weird name, don't you think?" Emi nods. "And her initials, her initials mimic D.C. al Fine, D.C. referring to Da Capo, or back to the beginning." I break off, staring at the paper again. The cipher is so close to being broken. I can sense it in my bones. But I'm a few degrees off center. A little more must click into place.

"Where are you going with this?" Emi asks.

Truthfully, I don't know, yet. Maybe we just need to talk it out.

"The clue is Silverenn's name. More specifically, I'm pretty sure the 'D.C.' part is what's significant, the part we need to pay attention to, since this is the only piece in the collection that has a D.C. al Fine in it, and D.C. is referring to Silverenn's name."

"So the part we should pay attention to is Da Capo, at the beginning," Emi finishes. "Not the final measure of the piece."

Slowly, I nod. "Yeah. Yeah, that makes sense. This clue is in the first measure."

"Or line."

"We'll find out."

Emi looks over my shoulder while I pull up the notes app on my phone.

"Let's see," Emi says. "It starts on a D major chord." I glance up to see her frowning.

"What's up?" I ask.

"What kind of lunatic starts a piece on a major two chord in a minor key?"

"Silverenn?"

Emi points her irritated gaze at me. "Silverenn shouldn't get to break all the rules. What happened to establishing the key signature with tonic? Is there something wrong with not starting on the first scale degree?"

"Apparently there is." I drag my attention back to the music. "So it starts on a D major chord, then shifts to a diminished F seventh chord."

"Who does she think she is?"

"Who did," I correct. "And it's best not to speak ill of the dead."

"She was too proud for her own good." Emi shakes her head.

"Can we focus on the task at hand, please? We're dealing with a D major chord and a diminished fourth. Yeah, it's weird. But it may have a special meaning."

My head drops so I can stare at the page. It's beginning to hurt from continually looking down.

D major to F diminished. Emi's right, it's a wacky combination. But it's masking something else, I know it is.

"D-E-A," I say. Emi just blinks at me, exhaustion pulling her eyelids down. "Those are the first three notes."

"E isn't part of the D major chord," she states, monotone.

"It's a neighbor tone," I say. "Thrown in for fun. D-E-A-D."

Emi frowns. "Wait, repeat that."

"D-E-A-D."

Her black eyes widen. "Oh my gosh." Her words are barely audible.

"What?"

"What does D-E-A-D spell?"

Shock nearly paralyzes me. "Dead?"

"Dead!"

My head reels so much, I fall backward against the headrest, my skull bouncing slightly on impact. "Dead?" I hold the music in front of me, reading the notes in the next chord. "Face!"

"I don't know whether to laugh or cry," Emi says. "What does that mean?"

"Look it up." I'm still staring at the music, my cloudy vision still tracing over the eight notes, so I'm not sure if she does. Fatigue sweeps through my bones, and I have no desire to change my line of vision.

"There's a local site called Dead Face Cave," Emi says after a bit. She pauses before continuing. "Cerise, I think we did it."

"I know." I still can't fathom that this is the last clue. We know the final location, the location of the treasure.

A high-pitched ringing splices the air. Emi and I freeze in place. A shiver runs down my spine as I remember the last phone call we received.

They can't have found us. After everything we did to ensure we weren't followed, Silverenn's descendents couldn't have caught up. And why would they call if they were here, about to ambush us? Still, panic shoots through my limbs, and my heart thunders in my chest as Emi reaches for her phone and accepts the call.

She visibly deflates. After a moment she says, "thank you very much. I'll be right over." She hangs up the call, then turns to me with a smile. "Pizza's ready!"

I exhale in relief, and tension melts from my muscles. "Good. What'd you order?"

"Artichoke," Emi says, releasing her seatbelt.

My jaw falls open. "Why would you put anything ending in 'choke' on pizza?"

"It tastes good. Besides, we ought to eat more vegetables." She shuts the door and jogs over to the pizza parlor, ending the discussion.

Finally, my mind flashes back to when Emi was ordering, something about olives and artichokes. I should've paid more attention. It's too late to change the past now, so I'll just have to pluck out the artichoke bits when I eat. Vegetable pizza is better than no pizza.

Once we get that treasure, we can each order a pizza all to ourselves. The thought makes me grin.