There was no way to pinpoint with 100% certainty where he'd gone. She had an extremely predictable idea, if a prior sentiment he'd offered so recently was anything to go by. It would break her to do it alone. Octavia didn't have a choice. There was no time to call for help, and hardly any time even to call his name--rather, to scream and scream for him until her throat was raw. She'd need every ounce of breath she could conserve, and she'd need every bit of luck that could bless her guess. If she was wrong, it was over. Even now, if she was incorrect in her assumption of his methodology, it could very well already be over, somewhere unseen and shadowed. Octavia knew him better than that.

The stairwell in the depths of night was one thousand times more intimidating than in the daytime, the scattered windows at every landing nearly useless in guiding her path. With only splinters of moonlight spared to lead her frantic flight, the musty stone walls that caged her on every side threatened to suffocate her at a moment's notice. It wasn't a quick climb by any means, and one she loathed making each and every time.

It didn't matter that there was no bell left to ring. It didn't matter that there was no Maestra left to ring it, the title revoked--for once--with peace and grace. The sound was absolutely devastating. Octavia could hear nothing else with each and every step. Running was making it far, far worse.

Where Josiah's gentle touch and soft words had led her to the very place that had ruined her inside with such patience, she found no such reprieve alone. She yearned for it more than anything, begging and pleading with screams she couldn't emit for his comfort. Octavia needed his reassurance. She again needed someone to tell her they weren't real, her own Hell had long since passed, and her own mistakes had long since been made.

Octavia needed him to say, with explicit certainty, that there wouldn't be two dead acolytes crumpled on the pavement secondary to her incompetence when she reached the top. She needed anyone to tell her she wouldn't find much the same of the forsaken boy she'd grown to treasure with all of her heart.

Every toll of every invisible bell made her unbelievably dizzy, and her fingernails scraped along the stone walls in a desperate attempt to reclaim her balance. Her rapid ascent was staggered, somewhat, the echo of her boots pounding against every stair drowned out in excess by the noises that tortured her head. Any second now, she would slip, surely bashing her skull against some facet of the stairwell and spilling yet more blood upon the gem of the Blessed City.

Octavia couldn't breathe. She couldn't remember the last time she'd taken a breath, her vision blurred by tears and yet more. Every muscle burned as she pushed harder, her knees rising high and adrenaline threatening to poison her blood.

She could see them--both of them, so clear in her eyes each time she blinked. Given the way she'd stolen their own eyes one after another, their pain was clearer now than ever before. There were two smiles that would never have the chance to shine again. There was a sweet laugh, undeterred by suffering unmatched, that could never greet her ears once more. There was a bright gaze, proud and honest as it embraced a city meant to be protected, that would never more look upon anything with love. There was a girl born of budding blossoms and a girl forged in raging flames, both betrayed by a world that should've shown them nothing but kindness and love.

In her ears, one screamed and fought against a destiny that deemed her fire worthless. Surely her wrath had been twofold, born of love and hatred alike. One pleaded for her life, feigning acceptance of her death with a grace not hers to keep. Surely her hands were in agony again, just as Octavia had seen both from afar and up close. It didn't stop every last toll of the bell from shaking her very soul.

She needed someone. She needed anyone. She needed anything, anything that would take her brain out of her head and tear the memories apart one by one. They were supposed to be gone. It was supposed to be over. Two cities, freed from the embrace of their captive angels, should have taken with them every burning flash that seared Octavia's heart.

It didn't matter that she was still running--although for how long, she was unsure. Her lungs were on fire, her body in general not faring much better. She openly sobbed.

It should've been her.

It should've been her.

Don't think about it.

She couldn't help it. There was nothing but. To retrace these exact steps alone with identical urgency, there absolutely could be nothing but. It was just as she'd feared.

It should've been her.

It couldn't be him.

His face flickered in her head, so briefly and yet so strongly. Octavia found precisely one scream at last. It held his name, and it echoed all the way up what little was left of her desperate climb.

The breeze she found atop the stairwell was useless against her superheated skin. Even now, even with her feet firmly upon the limestone that crowned the highest point of the church, the bell that was nowhere to be seen still tormented her within. She'd never scaled the tower at night before, the moon cresting high overhead a gorgeous sight above the Blessed City. It was a far cry from the splotchy pinks and oranges of sunrise that had watched over the acolytes' final moments with calm.

Octavia wondered if he cared, if it was perhaps too different from the world the flame's broken eyes had seen as she'd succumbed to a fate she didn't deserve. There was a difference, then, in the way he chose to face the earth below rather than shy away from its view. Selena had fallen face-up, her last agonizing moments of life full of pure sky overhead.

With his arms spread in just the slightest, Josiah, instead, had long since settled on the alternative. The railing held the weight of his careful balance well, perched so precariously atop the metal that it seemed one strong gust of the evening breeze would spell his end. Octavia knew he wouldn't care, save for the dissatisfaction of choosing his own terms. She could imagine the way he would roll his eyes all the way down. She couldn't imagine the sight of him once his body touched the ground again. The image burned the inside of her head. It was enough.

Stradivaria crashed to the limestone, hastily discarded as she broke into the most desperate sprint she'd ever made in her life. Octavia had gotten lucky before, in times of peril. Others had intervened. Circumstances had shifted. Up here, atop the very place that had twisted and broken her long after her struggle had ended, she would get no such reprieve. Even now, the bell tower of the Velrose Church fought to steal from her yet again.

Her boots pounding against the stone were still softer than the beating of her own heart. If he knew she was there, never once did he acknowledge her. Octavia watched as the boy tilted his head upwards, drinking in the sky for a moment.

One foot left the railing. Josiah didn't fall with a cry, nor with words upon his lips at all. He departed the tower peacefully, silently, leaving the very world in his wake as Octavia saw his eyes close.

She, too, jumped.

The top of her boots hooked the bottom rung of the railing from beneath as she struggled with his weight, both hands trembling with a combination of effort and sheer terror. Her breath was uncontrollable, and Octavia was outright gasping for air as her tears splashed against his sleeve. It took everything she had to keep still, battling to stay grounded to the opposite side of the barrier from the boy dangling in her frantic grip. In the process of clambering for his wrist, he'd swung inwards, his forearm surely pained by the sudden impact of rough granite against his bones.

Josiah didn't struggle. For a moment, he didn't speak, either. All that filled the void was the sound of Octavia's own labored breaths, the unassuming autumn breeze grazing them peacefully, and the stifled sobs that she fought to restrain. There were no bells. Even now, even like this, his face was enough to scare them away.

Octavia watched as his head drifted downwards, calm eyes taking in the city so, so far below. When they raised ever higher, they met her own, half-lidded and hollow as they were.

"You can let go now," Josiah murmured. "It's okay."

She shook her head desperately, readjusting her grip out of sheer panic. He was nowhere close to slipping. Still, the paranoia was absolute torture. Josiah watched her pain quietly.

"It really is okay. Don't worry. Close your eyes and look the other way."

Again, Octavia shook her head. Her best attempts at suppressing her sobs were in vain. He sighed, still relatively motionless as he hung perilously over the rim of the tower.

"I didn't want you to see this," Josiah admitted.

"You're not supposed to be doing this!" she cried, her voice cracking.

"Maybe I shouldn't have said anything. I should've known better. I'm sorry for making you worry about me. Go back to bed. It'll be over quick."

"I'm not going anywhere!" Octavia wailed. "I won't let you!"

Josiah's soft voice was viciously unsettling, as though he was already dead. "I'm not supposed to be here."

"Of course you're supposed to be here!"

He shook his head. "I survived that day by a complete stroke of luck and an absolute coincidence. This isn't what was meant for me. I wasn't meant to get this far."

"But that means something!" Octavia sobbed, her tears practically splattering against his face below. "There's a reason you're still here! There's a reason you're with us!"

"It's like I said. I'm not ungrateful. I really did cherish everything we did together, all of us. I don't regret that, Octavia. I don't regret any of it one bit. I'll miss you guys, all of you."

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

"So why, then? Stay!" she shouted.

"She needs me."

Octavia could barely breathe, readjusting her grip once more. She was steady, her anchoring firm. He wasn't light, and yet he wasn't heavy, either. She couldn't hold him forever, and yet she'd die before she let him go. She so desired to have him atop the tower with her, to see his feet touch something solid and his body escape the gaping grasp of open air. In Josiah's gaze, she still found no fear. Never had Octavia wanted him to be afraid so badly.

"She's alone. She's been alone for too long. I can't leave her alone again. I won't let her down anymore."

"She wouldn't want this!"

"She would."

"How can you say that?"

Again, Josiah closed his eyes. "I know her. No offense, but I know her better than anyone ever will."

Octavia gritted her teeth through her tears. "I've lived through her eyes! I've been her! She only ever wanted for you to be happy!"

"She wanted us to be happy together. This is how we end up together again."

"Why does it have to be now? You'll see her again someday, when you're meant to! I'm sure of it!"

"I'm meant to right now."

"Josiah, please!" she wept.

"I can't…wait anymore. I've made her wait for so long. I've been hurting Selena for so, so long, and all this time, I had no idea. I can't go on knowing that. I can't do that to her."

"You're her most important person! She doesn't feel that way, I know it!"

"I shouldn't get to live my life when she can't do the same."

"Your life is precious!"

Octavia screamed her words with such ferocity that she'd shaken the city below. Josiah's dead eyes widened somewhat, taken aback by her volume. Her voice shook fiercely with every word.

"Maybe I shouldn't be alive if she's not, but I am! Maybe I shouldn't be alive if I couldn't help Sonata, but I am! Maybe I shouldn't be alive if Priscilla isn't here with me, but damn it, I am! Maybe I don't want to be! There's people I want to be with again, too, but there's people I love here just as much! If I'm still standing here after everything, if I'm still alive after every single time I could've lost my life, shouldn't that mean something?"

Josiah was quiet. Octavia's voice battled her own sobs.

"You're going to see her again, someday. I'm going to see the people I love again, someday, too. Until then, there are people who love you right now, both of us, that we can spend just as much time giving our hearts to. You have people who love you more than you could ever know. Make lots of memories and take them with you to her when the time really does come. You deserve to be happy just as much as she does."

"This is what would make--"

"This would kill me," Octavia whispered. "This would kill us all."

"You're gonna guilt-trip me?" he said coolly.

"I'm going to do whatever I have to to show you that your life means the world to me."

"Please don't make this difficult. Don't make yourself more upset," he pleaded.

"If this is really and truly what would make you happy, then I'm not letting you go alone."

Josiah's eyes widened in full, his body jolting beneath her grip. "What?"

The glare she fixed him with was as sorrowful as it was resolute. He flinched.

"Don't say things like that."

"I mean it," Octavia growled through her tears.

"You have a lot more to live for than I do. You just said it yourself. You don't really want to die," he reasoned.

"I don't, but I will if it's for you."

Josiah narrowed his eyes, his voice sharp. "Don't you have regrets? Aren't you afraid to die?"

"I'm terrified," she admitted, sobbing.

Little by little, his voice was rising. "You're the Ambassador. If you die, they all have to start over. Everything falls apart. You leave behind all the people who were counting on you, and you throw that away over someone who threw away the one thing that could help you out. You wouldn't do that. I know you. You're not that stupid."

Octavia dared him with her eyes wordlessly, tears or not. "It doesn't matter. You matter."

"Don't just…throw around sentiments like that!" Josiah snapped at last.

"I'm serious!" she shouted back.

"Knock it off!"

"I won't let you be alone!"

Josiah paused. He inhaled sharply, twisting the wrist she clung to so pleadingly in just the slightest. He didn't yank or flail, only adjusting himself enough that the act of grasping him grew ever more difficult. When Octavia continued to hold fast, he twisted further, and yet further still. He balled his fingers into a fist, tugging downwards slowly in a subtle attempt to break her grip. It nearly worked, even with two hands firmly upon him. All the while, his narrow eyes, tinted with pain, stung her with a piercing gaze she'd grown to hate.

Octavia compensated for his resistance in the form of surrender. She relaxed the hold one of her boots had around the railing, her body rapidly jerking forward with such force that her stomach lurched. Her life wasn't quite flashing before her eyes. Still, she was absolutely nearing the threshold as her entire torso dangled precariously over the rim of the rail. She knew exactly what would happen if she moved her other foot.

Her eyes swam with fresh tears to the point that her vision was clouded. Even so, she stared him down just as hard. To have died so many times over as the Ambassador wasn't enough to numb her fear of succumbing to the same fate as the acolytes who haunted her. It was at least a comfort, in a sick way, knowing she wouldn't go alone. Her heart threatened to burst.

Josiah's eyes softened, widened, flooded with hurt and shimmered with sorrow. He stilled in her grip, unmoving as she struggled to maintain her own balance with him in tow. His fist uncurled, his fingers trembling in its place.

"You're serious," he murmured shakily.

Octavia opened her mouth to answer, be it with sharp chiding or reassurance. All she choked out was a sob. Josiah could only stare.

With a slight lurch of his body in the open air, he managed to swing his way close enough for his extended fingertips to just barely grasp the top of the railing. He didn't resist Octavia's grip, trembling with mild effort as he pulled. Octavia, too, grunted laboriously as she did the same, fighting to regain her balance and a solid foundation with which to support him. It took everything she had, every muscle in her body screaming and aching from holding him in place for so long. He contributed the most as he climbed back up the railing, turning his back on the welcoming void of the city below.

Even when he threw his legs up and over the metal, even when his feet touched the limestone with an unimaginable calmness and quietness, Octavia couldn't fight the way her heart still threatened to burst. She couldn't bring herself to let go of his wrist, lest she blink and find him on the ground so far below.

He wrapped his arms around her. It took effort to steal one of those arms from her relentless grasp, but he managed to do it anyway. Josiah was motionless, wordless even now. With his face well over her shoulder, his hair softly brushing against her cheeks, Octavia couldn't capture his eyes. Her own eyes were once more threatened by an ocean she couldn't fight, relieved and overcome with grief for what she'd yet to lose all at once. He beat her to it.

Josiah's breath rattled on each deep exhale, his embrace stiff and tense. It was tight, somewhat uncomfortable as he held onto her for dear life. What started as unsteady breathing turned into soft distress, cries Octavia could hardly make out. His fingernails dug into the fabric of her dress, curling inwards against her shoulders as they trembled fiercely.

He buried his face close to the crook of her neck, so near that Octavia could feel his sorrow against her. When he began to sob, it was the worst sound she'd ever heard leave his throat. It was the loudest sound she'd ever heard leave his throat.

"I miss her," Josiah wept. "I miss her so much."

There was little Octavia could do but return his embrace, her own shaky grasp of feeble reassurance useless as she fell into step with his suffering. Once more, she couldn't support his body weight as he slumped against her, his own knees giving out under the pressure of his agony. This time, she really did follow him down. Upon the limestone, she let him sob his heart out in her arms. She refused to let him go.

"I can't take it anymore, I miss her, I miss her," Josiah cried again and again. "I can't do this. She was everything for me."

"I know," Octavia cried in turn, his tears much her own.

"She was the most important person in the world to me."

"I know."

"She didn't deserve it. She didn't deserve any of it. She suffered, right up until the end, and I couldn't be there for her."

"I know, I know," Octavia sobbed.

"I had no idea that she…I didn't know. I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry. I can't…I don't know what to do."

"She never told you," Octavia mumbled through her pain, holding him tighter. "It wasn't your fault."

"I should've known better!" Josiah shouted, his voice cracking. "I knew her! I knew her better than anyone!"

There was nothing to say. Octavia buried her face in his shoulder as well, staining his flannel shirt with the echoes of her sorrow.

"I didn't see it that way," he wept softly. "Maybe I should have. Maybe I…should've tried to. What would that have been like? Would it have made her happy?"

"She was happy just to be with you."

"I could've made her even happier," he whispered. "And that hurts so, so badly to know."

"You did…everything you could," Octavia offered, nearly choking on her words. "We both did everything we could."

"It wasn't enough."

"I know."

"She was my best friend."

"She still is."

"We spent our whole lives together. I don't know who I am without her."

"You're Josiah," Octavia murmured. "You're precious to me. You're precious to all of us. We love you so much, no matter why you're here or what hurts you."

"That's not enough," Josiah sobbed.

"It's everything."

"You don't need to lie to me to make me feel better."

She pulled him closer, as close as he could come into her arms. "I'm not lying," she breathed.

Octavia could feel the way his entire body was shaking against her own, his sobs outright uncontrollable as Josiah shattered to pieces in front of her. She closed her eyes, rested her head against him, and let him do what he needed to do most. The tower that once gave a home to a bell instead gave refuge to the sound of sorrow, tethered to the grasp of the very same city. It was a place that had torn not only her own heart to shreds, but the boy who'd outrun a fate worse than death.

So high up, so distant from the sleeping streets below and those unaware of his want for eternal silence, it was a quiet Hell to be shared by those who mourned the same loss. Every tear Octavia shed burned as it rolled down her cheeks, settling into Josiah's flannel sleeves in wet patches.

For all the things she'd lost to Velrose, for all the bell tower had cursed her with, her reclamation of its twin meant nothing. Her dual blessings of guidance had meant nothing. There was no victory to be found in such hurdles to be conquered. For once, in the face of the very place she'd stood and lost her mind, she'd finally managed to protect a piece of her heart. Octavia wept bitterly, holding fast to that piece as Josiah entrusted her with his pain. His life was the greatest blessing the blossom or the flame could ever bestow upon her.

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