For all of her talk of fleeing south, the path had been scathingly simple. She'd followed where her protesting ankles had rebelled, sucked downwards along mountainous trails that grew steep and winding. Craggy cliffsides were her biggest threat in the dead of night, although she'd largely gotten lucky. Again, Viola thanked the ample moonlight that had seen fit to guide her way. What settlement she'd landed at upon reaching the foot of the mountains was pleasant, if not welcoming. She found her inn, she found her rest, and she found her drive under the rising sun.

Viola hadn't fully decided whether or not to believe Cielto. It wasn't that she had any reason to see him as untrustworthy, nor that she'd deemed him a suspicious person. He'd offered kindness, after all, a rarity as that was. Still, she recalled most facets of the supposed task, and they made little sense in unison even now. She'd already had plans to leave. If she followed where he guided, it would be largely by coincidence.

She did him the honor of at least considering it. "Considering" was passive, and "considering" took little effort on her part. Viola was mostly preoccupied with something between self-preservation and wanderlust, for how he'd once asked if she intended to shirk the former. She really did have far fewer encounters with Naturals, her grandmother's words be damned. There were those whose tails and ears still haunted her on occasion, passing by what places should've stood for human salvation. She saw spats. She stayed out of them, lowering her head and scurrying ever quicker.

The sun came up, and the sun fell. Viola counted the days, one after another, and she so often wondered if her grandmother still thrived under the same sun. In a perfect world, she would be comfortably nestled within the warmth of yet another unblemished settlement, by now. In a world truly perfect, Glissanda would still be unblemished, itself. As to when cruel paws would begin to dig deep and claim their crystalline prize, she didn't want to know. Already, the earth was perhaps succumbing to the same violence.

In terms of what her "soulmate" looked like, Viola still had no idea. She still had no clue what she was searching for in the first place, really. Part of her regretted not clarifying her suspicions with Cielto, by which she wasn't positive about her primary guess. There was a concerningly-sizable chance that "two worlds" meant something different to him. Given that she hadn't unraveled the sage part, she wouldn't have been surprised if his cryptic guidance was worse than she'd thought. The concept was annoying.

There were four settlements. There were five settlements. There were six, and Inviurne treated her well. It was smaller than Glissanda, granted, and yet splendidly colorful. Viola blamed the fruit. It shamed whatever she'd brought along, as did every flavor of vegetable and herb under the shimmering sun above. The mere idea of Naturals compromising another resource entirely was abysmal. She shook it out of her head as best as she could, and she indulged in whatever delicacies the inn so graciously subjected her to against her will.

"--and there's a mushroom soup, if you're interested! I usually put extra pepper in it, but the last person here didn't like the pepper very much. It was spicy, so that might've been part of the problem. I can change it out to something not spicy, if you want to try! Unless you like spicy stuff? We have this one steak dish that's really--"

"I'm okay," Viola practically begged, raising her hands defensively. "I'm really, really okay. This was plenty, I promise."

The waitress beamed, denied or not. If Viola looked closely enough, she was almost positive that the girl was outright vibrating. "If you change your mind, let me know right away! I can make you dessert! Do you want dessert?"

"I do not want dessert."

She didn't need to ask for help with what seven-odd dirtied plates littered her table. The girl moved fast enough that Viola feared she'd send every last one crashing to the floor. Somehow, she didn't. "You're staying the night, right?"

Viola smiled. "Yes. How much do I owe you?"

The waitress straightened up, her arms piled concerningly high with porcelain. "Don't worry about that, silly! We don't get girls my age in here very often. It's on the house! So is dinner."

"That's…very kind of you," Viola said. "I appreciate it."

"Are you staying in Inviurne for a while?" she asked.

Viola shook her head. "I'm looking for something. Someone, really. I don't think they're here, so I'll probably head to the next settlement I can find. I've been trying to look for places to settle down, too, though, once I'm through with that. So far, this…might be the nicest one."

Now the vibrating was obvious. Viola was almost positive she was going to drop the plates. There was sparkling to match, far more vivid than whatever stars snuck through the windows of the dining room. "You can come back whenever you want! I can help you find a house! Do you want to live here? Maybe you can live with me! I can ask my parents. You might have to work here, though. We can pay you! I can make you anything you want, every--"

"Again, eventually," Viola interrupted, swallowing a laugh at the last possible second. "There's things that come first."

The waitress swallowed excitement in turn, thankfully. "Are you looking for a friend?"

Viola's smile slowly slipped from her face. "I don't…know."

She tilted her head, two plush buns bouncing somewhat in the process. "What do you mean?"

Viola rested her cheek in her palm. There was no harm in sharing, really--given her listener. "I've…never met the person I'm looking for. Someone else told me to find them. Apparently, I'll know them when I see them, but it's very important that we meet."

"And what happens after you meet them?"

Viola fell silent. She'd never gotten to that part.

She was speechless, briefly. She cleared her throat instead. "I-I'm still trying to find leads as to where to search," Viola deflected. "I figured I'd…look around this place for a bit. If I don't have any luck, I'll keep going until I figure it out."

Seven plates in hand or not, the waitress bounced on her heels. "But you're gonna have to look around a loooot of Unis-Resonne, if that's your plan."

Viola winced. "I'm…aware."

When the waitress beamed again, the same brilliant smile was a solid distraction from the holes in her method. "I'll cheer you on, though! Do you want me to come with you?"

"No, no, no, no, you have an inn to run," Viola said much too hurriedly, waving defensive palms again.

She only laughed. "Just as long as you're careful. Don't go near Golden Crest, and try not to walk around in the dark. There's lots of wild animals outside of the settlement. Do you have any weapons with you, or anything? Oh, and you should be careful following the main road. There's thieves, sometimes."

Viola raised an eyebrow. "Golden Crest?"

The waitress nodded. The bouncing buns were getting distracting, too. "It's a tiny village in the forest, but there's no people in it. Human people, anyway. Stuff keeps happening in the forest, so we tell everybody to be careful."

"'Human people,'" Viola echoed, redundant as the phrase was. "Naturals?"

"Half-breeds," she corrected quietly, her voice dipping lower as she leaned in close. "That's what everyone around here calls them, at least."

Viola flinched. "What do you mean?"

The way by which she could balance a towering stack of plates and still have room to gesture with her hands was nothing short of incredible. One pointed finger traced outlines above her head, and yet more down her legs in winding shapes. "They have cute ears, and fuzzy tails. They don't look scary. People have seen them a few times. They don't have that much fur, though, so they're not Naturals. They sort of look like us."

Viola slouched in her chair slightly. "And they're…living in that forest?"

"People from Inviurne tried to go hunting in there before," the waitress explained. "Some of them never came back out. The ones who went in to find them didn't come back out, either. We don't know for sure if it's the half-breeds, but some people think so. No one knows for sure."

Viola paused. "Which…way is it? So I can avoid it, I mean."

The waitress didn't hesitate. One illustrating finger instead speared towards the window. "If you go south out of the settlement, you can't miss it. It's a little bit of a walk, but it's big. Watch where you're going. If you're looking for another place to stay, Velzalea is to the--"

"Thanks," Viola interrupted, rising from her seat. She pushed in her chair as she spoke, raising her voice above the squeak of wood against wood. "I'll…be careful. If I ever come back here, this'll be the first place I go for dinner. And breakfast, I'm sure."

Her smile was utterly blinding. It was a miracle that Viola wasn't burned. "I'll have everything we serve ready for you! Sleep tight, okay?"

The smile she gave back paled in comparison. "I will."

The overwhelming meal would help with that much, delicious or otherwise. Viola was overwhelmed in more ways than one, mentally speaking. The concept was a reach. It wouldn't have been the first time that she'd delved into places she shouldn't have, particularly in the name of progress. To be fair, that was the entire reason she'd made it out of Glissanda in the first place.

---

It really wasn't hard to find. She had an excellent guide in the form of the scorching sun, far opposite to the moon that so often held her hand. If Viola squinted beyond the borders of Inviurne, she could make out lush treetops and leafy clusters from well over the distant horizon. She'd been more afraid of anyone who'd try to stop her than whatever would lurk within. In regards to the former, she got lucky, and not one soul crossed her path on the way there. Given the less-than-desirable picture she'd been painted as to its denizens, she doubted she would've had willing company.

Even crowned by flooding daylight, it was dark. It was dark enough that Viola hesitated for exactly one moment, her steps stalling at the steep shift between sunshine and shadow. Fear was less pressing than curiosity. That might not have been a good thing. Ultimately, half-breeds were better than Naturals, and that was all that mattered. She submitted to shade, excessive and all-consuming.

The quiet was the worst part, hushed footsteps interrupted only by crackling twigs and trilling insects. If she embraced naivety, she could trust whatever part of her blamed every rustle of every bush on wildlife alone. Her bubbling waitress had said as much, to be fair. If there was a village within the woods, it wasn't obvious at first sight. That might've been intentional. Viola wasn't certain what she'd do once she found it, given that this was still a reach to begin with. At the worst of times, she rolled her eyes inwardly at an absent Cielto for his lack of assistance. Wherever he was, he better have appreciated the effort.

Most of the forest was unremarkable, in terms of landmarks. Mushrooms were abundant enough, although she'd dealt with enough soup that the sight of speckled puffballs wasn't appealing. She could've sworn she'd heard a river, somewhere, far-off and trickling eternally. Rocks meant nothing, trees blurred together, and it was very possible that she'd made at least three circles. How deep she'd gone was debatable. Whether or not she could get out was another problem entirely. Where she'd go once she embraced the full weight of sunshine, too, would be up to fate alone. In truth, this was the closest she'd gotten to anything of merit.

Merit meant little if she couldn't find it. She'd gotten good at wandering, for how forsaking mountains so distant had left her lungs stronger and her muscles firm. Her navigational skills had never been poor, and yet Viola was more proud of them than ever before. Both, in tandem, were useless. In a forest branded by reputation alone, the only anxiety she was finding was in how much sunlight she was wasting. Whether or not she could see it through the thick leaves overhead, it was definitely there. She sighed.

The clearing she stumbled into was vast, if not useless in its own right--save for the relief that came with visible sunshine. They matched, in that way. A sigh became a groan, and a sizable rock became a solid candidate for a seat. It gave Viola time to cradle her anguished head in her hands, more so packed with annoyance than anything. She would concede that the forest was, without question, big. That had been established in the worst way.

Viola unslung her backpack from sore shoulders. The bag fell over the side of the boulder with a thud onto the soft earth. For a moment, she was content to do little more than rub her temples, fruitless as the effort was. Stillness, for the first time in hours, was pleasant enough.

She embraced that much, briefly. What possessed her to carefully stretch her arm towards languishing canvas was beyond even her. If it was comfort she was after, she had a very, very easy solution. Using it in the middle of a questionably-hazardous forest probably wasn't her greatest plan. At this point, Viola wouldn't have been surprised if there wasn't anything here at all.

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Cool steel against her palm traded places with caution. She threw what she had left of it to the wind, and threw wind far more precious into the only silver that eased her soul. With one deep breath to go off of, Viola raised the little flute to her lips. She exhaled gently, and the sound was as beautiful as ever.

She didn't have the crisp, chilling stage that was a placid lake and rolling breezes. It was the first time she'd blessed a forest with song. She'd breathed every emotion she owned into the instrument dozens of times over since she'd fled Glissanda. Even so, each melody was cherished, each harmony sweet. Viola let it rattle every leaf and drift through winding shrubbery. She let it flow where it pleased, and she resolved to deal with the consequences later--if there were any. It was possible that the waitress had been messing with her, and she grew angrier the longer she thought about it. It was all she could do to let music flood everywhere that ire rushed to drown her. The alternative was losing her mind.

Just as she'd lost track of her steps, she lost track of her song. The motions were absent, as always, and the ballad itself was largely a reflex. Viola hadn't selected it with any meaningful intent. Her father would probably enjoy it, all the same. Deep as she was into towering woods, she wondered if her song could squeeze its way up that high. It was a nice thought. She played louder.

It wasn't loud enough to cover the crack on her right. For a split second, she was tempted to blame wildlife unseen. It wasn't unseen, ultimately, nor was it wildlife. Whatever it was still spoke to the unfamiliar, scathingly foreign in every way. It was the second time in weeks that a song so beloved had been sliced in two by shock, stiff fingers stilling instantly. Viola gasped. Her stranger didn't.

She scrambled to her feet so quickly that she nearly fell off of the boulder altogether. Pulling the flute close to her chest offered nothing in the way of protection, and yet she had nothing to work with. She'd declined a medic's knife, once, when he'd so kindly offered. Never had she kicked herself harder. Given the sharpened eyes that fought to slash through her soul, whatever sloppy violence Viola could've offered up might not have done much, anyway. The ears were unbelievably distracting. So was the tail.

She was inexplicable on sight, her existence alone a mix that didn't make sense. What skin she possessed was warm and familiar. The fluffy ears that twitched and stiffened in the face of every subtle sound were different. She wasn't unlike the silky felines that had freely walked Glissanda, and fuzzy whites were almost cute. Her tail, too, was every bit as stiff, prickled hairs rising in time with a look intended to kill. If Viola looked past that which resembled a cat, their ages were strikingly close--probably. Where her own dress was refined, the girl was humble. White ears clashed with brown braids, twin and trailing. In the strangest way, it was cute. That wasn't important right now.

Viola didn't dare move, the flute still tethered to her chest. Her hands didn't tremble, nor did she feel fear beyond the initial surprise. Her heart still raced, and that was a constant. She stared, mostly. The girl stared back. In equal measure, they were motionless. As to what raised hands would've sought to inflict, Viola wasn't sure. She entertained the idea of being scratched at, almost humorous as it was.

When the silence broke, it was almost sudden enough to make her jump again. "What are you doing here?" the girl spat.

Viola blinked. It wasn't the first question she thought she'd get. It was one of them, to be fair. "I-I, uh…I'm…I…"

There was no good answer to it, anyway. The girl didn't let her hunt for anything meaningful. "Who are you? Why are you here?"

Her tone was as sharp as her eyes. Slammed with the same pressing, Viola could do little more than stammer again. "I-I-I didn't mean any harm, I swear!"

The girl bit back her venom, for a moment. When next she spoke, it still tainted her words, somewhat. "You're a…human."

Piercing eyes chased Viola up and down. The act left her feeling far too vulnerable, and she resisted the urge to steal several steps backwards. "That's--"

"Right?"

It became a question. Viola's eyes widened. The girl's own never softened.

Slowly, she unfurled her iron grip around the flute, parting her arms and spreading them wide in surrender. "I'm…a human, yes. You're a…half-breed, then?"

Only now did anything but razors touch her gaze. Confusion blunted threats, albeit barely. "Half-breed?"

The term had been just as unfamiliar to herself. That was fair. "You're not a Natural," Viola tried instead, "but you're not a human, either."

She knew one of those, at least. "There's no Naturals here."

That was a relief, to some degree. Part of Viola wondered if the feeling was mutual. It might not have been the best time to ask, still hostile as every drop of body language was. "I've never seen anyone who…well, anyone like you before," she said plainly.

Viola's hands fell to her sides at last, and what palm didn't grasp a flute instead slowly gestured towards the girl. It came out worse than she'd intended, apparently. She got her razors back, fresh and sharp. "I've never seen anyone like you, either. Humans aren't supposed to be here."

The logical part of her brain was screaming for caution, given morbid anecdotes that were gradually beginning to hold water. Viola had guesses. Awe was still keeping her from focusing on them. "You've never seen a human before?"

"Why are you here?" she repeated, firm and harsh once more. "Answer me."

As to what would happen if she didn't, Viola wasn't certain she wanted to know. Her heart would never beat normally again, at this rate. She chose her words carefully. "I was…looking for something."

"You won't find anything in this place," the girl snarled. "Whatever you're searching for, you won't get it here."

Viola hesitated. She was pushing it. "I might."

That was a guess. The whole statement was a gamble, given the anger that fizzled and died on the girl's face. It paid off, ultimately. She hadn't dissected the tiniest pang in her soul, baffling and foreign much the same as so much else. It was one of her many immediate concerns, still none of which entailed fear.

Eyes once burning with hostility instead fell to her side, drifting down towards cold steel. "What is that?"

Viola followed her gaze. She raised her head so soon after. "It's…my flute. It's precious to me."

The girl was quiet, her eyes again colliding with the same. "Was that you playing it before? The song?"

Just as she'd been startled by strangers twice over, she'd possibly lured another herself with yet the same melody. Again, Viola kicked herself. Still, it might've been for the best, this time. "Yes. That was me."

At last, she lowered her own arms, and what tension she'd harbored unwound in turn. That which was inhuman responded in kind, ears relaxing and a tail swishing to a harmless halt between her legs. "Can you…do it again?"

Viola was almost afraid to look away from her, lest sudden movements earn her the same ire. "Do what again?"

Her hesitation was almost cute. Thrice over, her eyes touched upon the instrument. "Play it."

Viola's own hesitation was born of something else altogether. It was no longer a pang. It was a dull ache, and it was hard to ignore as it scratched against her soul. "Only if you tell me your name."

"Tell me yours first," she demanded softly.

It was soft enough to betray every threat made mere moments ago. In place of a laugh, Viola was fine with a smile. "Viola. Viola Vacanti."

She never got one back. She did, at least, get what she asked for, somewhere between guarded and gentle. "Octavia."

"It's…nice to meet you," Viola offered.

Her eyes were still on the flute. Viola was probably pressing her luck. Whatever pleasantries she was fine with may or may not have been mutual. The girl's eyes followed her motions all the way up, and one soft breath was of interest. The clearest note that followed it out was divine. Viola hadn't expected anything less.

"See?" she said.

Octavia nodded slowly. "I…you were really good at it. How long have you been playing?"

She did what she could to keep the pride out of her voice. It didn't work well. "Since I was little. I'm not an expert, but I hardly think about it anymore. It just kind of happens."

"Can you…play play? A song, I mean?"

Anything that overshadowed whatever was outright buzzing in her soul by now would suffice. "If you'd like. I'm not used to having an audience, though, so go easy on me," Viola joked.

That part was lost on her. The second nod was fervent enough for her braids to come with it. "I will."

Smiling while playing was tricky. Viola gave up on trying to keep a straight face, and she closed her eyes to match. Again, cool metal brushed against her lips, and she stole the sweet air of a tranquil forest to fuel her song.

She never gave it back. It was robbed from her altogether, and her balance was taken much the same. With closed eyes, Viola never saw the moment she hit the ground. She could hear the thud, twofold and painful to match as something crashed down on top of her. She landed on her shoulder, and soft earth was enough to spare her of any true throbbing. Still, it ached. There was the briefest moment in which she questioned whether or not she'd lowered her guard too far, vulnerable to a girl whose righteous rage might've left her defending a threatened home. The thought never translated to shouts, and she heard the shattering first.

The crackling at her back was anything but wooden. If a tree had crashed to the forest floor, it had no right to sound like that. The biting chill above her echoed, jarring and all too new. With certainty, it hadn't been there a moment ago.

For a moment, Viola was motionless. It was only when her newest stranger rolled off of her that she pushed herself into a sitting position, more than disoriented. Slowly, she cast her eyes behind her. There really were no felled trees, and that much wasn't surprising. The ice, by comparison, was.

Octavia didn't give her a chance to dwell on the speckled glass littering the leaves below. One hand was around Viola's wrist, and the girl yanked her to her feet. Where she stumbled, she was grateful for the sturdy arms that steadied her. She was grateful for the smallest spark that stung her soul, inexplicable all the same. The moment it fizzled out, she missed it. By no means should it have been her greatest concern. That honor belonged to shadows alone.

She assumed they were shadows, at first, and Viola couldn't process them as anything but. They were shapely, familiar enough on a second inspection. She'd been blessed with incredible luck in the sense that wildlife had spared her throughout her travels. Naturals had always been the greatest harm to her health, regardless. Rugged mountains harbored their fair share of wolves, that much was true. She'd never had the misfortune to encounter them head-on. She'd never had the misfortune to encounter that which rivaled darkness itself.

The beast was surreal by sight alone, if not by the silence that followed. She earned not a growl, nor a snarl, nor anything that spoke to wild danger. Viola would've preferred that much, at the moment. Cloaked in utter black and devoid of even a piercing gaze, she could've very well have been hallucinating it. The forest was dark enough. If her own eyes were playing tricks on her, spilling shade smothering all it touched, she would've believed it.

It was motionless. Viola was the same, for a moment, whether or not her heart was very much the opposite. Octavia, in her place, took one step in reverse. She, too, was just as silent instead.

Even with her eyes still locked firmly onto the surreal creature, she forced out what wavering words she could. "What…is that?"

"Don't go near it," Octavia answered quickly, stealing yet another step backwards.

When the shadow-clad wolf took one of its own into wavering grasses, they didn't so much as rustle underfoot. Each movement was soundless, and Viola's pounding heartbeat filled the gap. She echoed Octavia, one retreating step at a time. "But what is it?" she pressed, her panicked voice rising.

"They're cursed," Octavia shot back, urgent once more. "They're deadly. I don't know what it's doing here."

Slowly, Viola peeled her eyes from the beast, her anxious gaze drifting to the girl at her side. "Have you seen them befo--"

"Look out!"

She almost didn't. Crystal came fast, and crystal was unforgiving. Born of no noise and chilled breaths she could practically see, dripping frost evolved into something more. A growl would've been a pitiful threat, versus what spearing ice could've offered up. In any other circumstance, the jagged icicle crafted from nothing would've been gorgeous, pristinely blue and crowned by glittering sunshine. Right now, practically screaming as it sliced clean through the air, the true path it charted towards her head left room for only terror.

Again, it was a forceful shove that spared her life. Warmth smashed into her, and it slammed into her soul in turn. Where Viola's body was jostled, it followed suit every time. Octavia held her close once more, near enough to the ground that her cheeks scraped the dirt. She had a solid view behind her, this time. The shattering finally made sense.

What had just barely missed her cut deep into flora instead, slicing into the bark of an oak not so far beyond. Some of it stayed, packed firmly into gaping wooden wounds like the worst of bandages. The rest sprinkled uselessly to the forest floor twice over. The second time, every shard was thicker, and Viola could gauge the weight with solely her eyes. Given where they'd been aiming, she wondered if death would've hurt.

Octavia nearly leapt to her feet, again throwing her wrist around Viola's own. Jerked hard up and off of the ground, she staggered twice over. There were no gracious arms to catch her this time. She missed that, too, for what spark that had come with.

"How is it doing that?" Viola asked incredulously, her voice every bit as shaky. "It's…using magic?"

"Did it follow you?" Octavia tried, never turning her head.

Viola flinched. "N-No. Nothing did."

Octavia didn't respond. Her eyes snapped to the left, instead, and ears so fluffy grew flat atop her hair. Viola had seen the same stiffness already, guarded and vicious. Whatever made her tail tense and her gaze sharpen had little to do with humans. Quantity was a catalyst. In her shoes, Viola would've done the same.

One was bad enough. Two was a crisis, three was a nightmare, and four was Hell. If they were synchronized in some capacity, Viola couldn't tell. It wasn't as though they had the features to show it. It wasn't as though they had a way to show anything. Malice was palpable, at least, and ice spoke for itself. Pressed on all sides by shade both true and not, she'd probably find more of the latter soon enough. Every blackened beast that approached was just as silent. It had taken her long enough to find fear. This wasn't how Viola had expected to earn it.

"There's never this many!" Octavia snapped, the same razor-edged gaze slashing at each venomous wolf in turn. "You did something!"

She'd forgotten she was holding the flute at all until one key dug painfully into her palm. It was her fault for gripping it so hard. She did it anyway. "I didn't do anything!"

"Yes you did! This is why we don't let humans in here!" she snarled.

Viola winced. "What does me being a human have to do with anything?"

"I never should've trusted you!"

"I didn't lead them here!" Viola argued. "Octavia, I don't even know what they--"

"My family lives here!" she cried, pained eyes snapping to Viola's own at last. "My whole village is here! You put them in danger!"

It was true that she'd known the girl born of two worlds for less than an hour. It was equally true that the sight of budding tears was enough to leave her soul aching. It was far from a spark, and yet every bit as powerful.

Viola clamped one hand down atop Octavia's shoulder with more force than was reasonable. It was a risk, for how she still wasn't sure whether or not the girl was truly a threat. The little flute was left to tremble in her other palm even now, held close to her chest instead. "I didn't do anything," she repeated, softer. "I told you, I came here to find something. Why would I try to ruin that?"

Her fingers were warm. Her hand was warm. The touch that left her skin touching another girl entirely was aglow. The sensation spiraled into her heart and swirled ever deeper, perplexing and welcome all at once. What words Viola shoved through the veil it left behind were heavy, draped in something less than clear.

"I…would've had no reason to…hurt anyone. I promise," she murmured.

The hand that clung to cool steel burned, somewhat. It wasn't a burn so much as the same glow, silky stars swimming in her blood and surging through somewhere she couldn't pinpoint. The instrument had always fit so perfectly in her palm, molded to match her grasp alone. Never once, in her life, had it felt so utterly flawless.

"You're…lying!" Octavia protested, motionless beneath her grip. "There's no point! Whatever you're…looking for, you're…not going to find it in…"

It was no longer an itch, nor an ache, nor the softest of burns. It was unmistakable.

"I found it," Viola said quietly.

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