Necromancy In D Minor ✔️

Symphony of Lies (Encore)

Octavia sat on a stone slab that used to be a part of the inn, back-dropped by a pile of rubble higher than the buildings. Sicero stood before her, hands in pockets as he waited for her to collect her thoughts.

And when she finally found words, they came out in a frantic rush. "It was him. This village was just one big experiment. He wants humanity destroyed so necromancers can rule. He didn't care about Arietta. All that crying and pleading yesterday. It was all a show."

She wrapped her arms around herself, squeezing her biceps as anger set her chest ablaze. "How could I have been so stupid? He used Arietta as a pawn, and I fell for it. I never should've gotten so attached to the children."

"Don't say that. Those children love you. Arietta loved you. You brought them so much joy in such a bleak time." He laid a hand on her shoulder, the warmth of his palm seeping into her skin. "And thanks to you, they'll know a life free from fear of the scourge. You did in two months what I couldn't manage in ten years."

"To what end. Arietta is dead. Tallis' parents are dead, the village is half destroyed and—"

"And none of it was your fault." He sat beside her, his hand lingering on her shoulder. "All things considered, I'd say this is as favourable an end as we'll get. It's hard to accept, but some things are beyond our power."

She swallowed the lump in her throat. That was just a nicer way of saying she couldn't save everyone. Still a bitter pill to swallow.

Quintus joined them by the pile of rubble, dragging an unconscious Eli by one foot behind him.

"Is he alive?" Sicero asked.

"Unfortunately, and he may have a bit of a headache when he wakes up." He hoisted Eli up by his foot and shook him before letting him drop. "Priest can you take him back to the Cathedral and keep him confined?"

The High Priest nodded. "I should also inform Beatrix and Levi of these developments." He took Eli off the ground before laying him over the back of his horse. Then he tossed a smile at Octavia over his shoulder and pounded off.

Quintus rocked back on his heels, arching a bushy black brow. "Not going with your beaux?"

"No, Quintus." She walked past him and climbed the stoop into the shop. Her mind registered the chime of the bell subconsciously, and she stood there in the cold quiet, eyes roaming over the candles, scented waters and oils.

An impressive front for sinister research, Octavia decided. How charming it had been the first time she visited. Now the sight of it made bile pool in her mouth.

Quintus brushed past her and disappeared in the back of the shop. A moment later, a muted "damn it" sounded through the shop.

Octavia ran to the workroom and skidded to a halt at the door, a hand clamping over her mouth. Pauletta laid half across the bench, chisel in one hand while the other hung limp. She stared at the wall with the same abysmal eyes as her daughter. A wooden box sat in splintered pieces on the floor by her feet.

"By sin and symphony." Quintus closed her eyes and tossed his overcoat over her. "She's fresher than the girl. Three months old at most. Why would he turn her too?"

"Because he's sick. He's evil." Octavia's chest heaved, her breath coming in heated puffs as anger mixed with her disgust. "I should've snapped his neck."

He picked up Pauletta. "You'll certainly have the opportunity later. For now, we should return to the Cathedral. I'm sure your friends will have questions."

They left the shop as they met it and made the journey back to the Cathedral. While Quintus rode, she flew, her eyes on the horizon instead of the village below. The steady beat of her wings displacing the air didn't provide the calming comfort it used to and the green hues in her vision sharpened and blurred. She took her emotions and crumpled them together like useless paper, tucking them away in a forgotten part of her brain. It left her body cold and heavy, but numbness was far better than the cocktail or rage, sadness and regret.