Disclosure, Part II

It was Madrigal who shattered the quiet, albeit with a calm that was somewhat jarring.

“I have a question,” she asked with surprising coolness, raising one hand politely. “The blackish-purple stuff. The forces of darkness. Can you tell us a little bit more about it?”

Eleanor nodded in understanding--although her perplexed expression in the face of Madrigal’s phrasing was not lost on Octavia. “The Dissonance, then. Even now, I hesitate to think about it. If you children have ever been cursed to witness it, I sincerely apologize.”

“What’s the...Dissonance?” Harper asked tentatively. In truth, Octavia wished he’d never need to find out.

The solemn look that settled onto Eleanor’s face was in stark contrast to the warmth of moments before. “As I’ve told Viola, Dissonance is humanity’s agony given form. It is a horrific amalgamation of anguish and despair, too volatile to take shape. Unseen by normal eyes, it is a natural consequence of this world, forever lingering among us all.”

Octavia’s blood froze over. Viola hadn’t told her that part. “It’s been here this whole time?”

Viola looked away, dodging Octavia’s attempts to meet her gaze. Her avoidance spoke more than words probably could.

“Indeed, Dissonance is ever-present,” Eleanor went on. “It cannot be stopped by mortal means, and it cannot be reasoned with. It is as intangible as love or anger.”

“Butwecan see it,” Octavia said. “It’s like smoke, or…fog. We can even hear it.”

“Only those blessed with the company of a Harmonial Instrument can witness it in a physical form, shapeless as it may be. Of course, that would mean only those with the aid of a Harmonial Instrument can strike it down,” she finished.

“There are ways to sense the presence of Dissonance,” Viola continued in the woman’s stead, counting on her fingers one by one. “First, there’s the screeching noise. Even if a normal person can’t see Dissonance, they can still hear it. Their ears start ringing and they start hearing screeching sounds they can’t describe.”

Octavia nodded. It was an experience she wished she couldn’t empathize with.

The Maestra counted further. “Second, there are…physical symptoms, kind of like a disease. Exposure to Dissonance causes fatigue, nausea, and dizziness, among other things. Third, people exposed to Dissonance often develop thoughts of hurting or killing themselves--provided the Dissonance itself doesn’t take care of that first.”

The moment she remembered the riverbed in Minuevera, Octavia’s stomach lurched. Everything clicked, the man’s suspected intentions most of all. She felt sick. She struggled to focus.

“Finally,” Viola went on, “there’s the...opposite. If a person is particularly susceptible to Dissonance, they can even lose themselves in its presence. We call these people ‘Dissonant’. To be Dissonant is to be…infected with Dissonance, in a way. Dissonant people act out of sheer hatred and destructive urges, and will go after themselves or others until they’re...stopped.”

Octavia wasn’t immune to the shadow that crossed Viola’s face for a moment. The puzzle pieces of her paternal situation had clicked neatly into place some time ago. It still broke Octavia’s heart to witness.

“And…nobody ever notices that anything’s wrong? The nausea, the dizziness, anything?” Harper asked once more.

Viola shook her head. “Even if they see a doctor, no matter how much they’re tested, nothing will ever be visibly wrong. It’ll look like it’s all in their head.”

“And that just makes them feel even more alone,” Madrigal spoke sadly. Anything short of a smile on her face was deeply unsettling.

“And that’s why it’s the responsibility of Maestros and Maestras to free them from their suffering, by which they might regain their senses,” Eleanor added. “Still, it takes a skilled hand and a special soul to heal a Dissonant person.”

Octavia’s eyes drifted towards Madrigal, her thoughts drifting in tandem. “Madrigal, that night on the riverbed, with that…man. How did you know what to do?”

Madrigal’s soft smile was much more appreciated. “Lyra told me what to do--the first time, and the second time, and every time I needed to. When I need her help, it’s like she takes my hands.”

Eleanor’s smile was just as soft. “What is your Harmonial Instrument, dear?”

“It’s a harp!” she answered proudly, patting the bag nestled comfortably against her side. “The first time I ever saw the darkness, I was really scared, but Lyra showed me how to fight back. She showed me how to help people, too. When there’s trouble, I can always count on her. I know she’ll always be there for me.”

Eleanor’s eyes fell to the instrument unseen, obscured beneath the fabric of the little bag as it was. “Your bond is surely a special one, child. It is a blessing that you two have one another.”

“We wouldn’t have been in trouble if I was closer to Silver Brevada, then? Is that it?”

Viola’s narrowed eyes offset Madrigal’s prideful beaming. Octavia flinched. Eleanor nearly did the same.

Eleanor shook her head. “No, my dear, that’s…not what I meant to imply. To remove the Dissonance from within a human soul is highly difficult for any Maestro to do alone. Normally, it would take rigorous training--”

“I’ve trained rigorously, grandmother, every single day! I practice until my fingers bleed and my hands are covered in blisters, and I still can’t save a single person! I thought Silver Brevada and I were on good terms. I thought I was a decent Maestra--a good one, even, and yet if another Dissonant person crosses my path, all I’ll be able to do is grant them a quick death! Is that all just because my relationship with my instrument isn’t ‘special’ enough?” she snapped, her voice steadily rising.

“Viola, love, that isn’t--”

“So, what, is there something wrong with my soul? Is a 'soul of ice' weaker than a spirit of wind? Is that how that works? Am I too frigid to be a healer? It sure as hell didn’t stop you from saving father, did it?”

“Viola--”

“So, it has nothing to do with training or effort or whatever like you said? You can just wake up and be a good Maestra one day? You can just…treat everything like a game and pretend to be a hero, and that’s somehow enough to save someone’s life? Is that what I need to do? Make everything serious into a joke? And maybe, magically, my instrument will do everything for me? Is it that easy?”

“I’m sorry.”

Madrigal’s shaky murmur was barely within earshot, a gaze meant for sparkles now pooling with tears. Viola froze the moment they met her own, her eyes wide and plagued by a tint of guilt in turn. For how Octavia watched one foot slide slightly behind her, she had half a mind to wonder if the girl was going to bolt. She stood her ground, surprisingly, even if the strain that crossed her face threatened to split her in half.

“I didn’t mean it,” Viola murmured back. “I just...it’s...personal.”

The silence that followed was abysmal, with only the soft crackles beyond the fireplace to fill the gaps. Octavia’s fingers settled over Madrigal’s own, deathly still to a degree that unnerved her. She squeezed, receiving nothing in return. Harper’s initiative to speak at last was equal parts bold and startling.

“Miss Eleanor, where does the Dissonance come from?” he asked, his voice notably quiet.

To her credit, Eleanor was undeterred. “Dissonance is born from bad memories. It flocks to places of tragedy and suffering. Be warned, though, that it takes a powerful memory to give birth to Dissonance. A simple bitter experience will not do.”

“Is there a…way to get rid of it? Like, completely?” Octavia asked hesitantly, somewhat fearful of the answer to follow.

“There is.”

Viola’s tone was sharp and dark, painted with something unlike that of her prior ire.

Eleanor shook her head. “There isn’t--”

“There will be,” Viola interrupted. “I’ll find a way.”

“My love,” Eleanor began with a sigh, “we’ve…discussed this. The world cannot be rid of a natural force. Dissonance is a given part of life, just as the Harmonial Instruments are a sacred blessing unto this world.”

“Then I’ll find a way to get rid of it,” Viola spoke harshly. “I refuse to believe something that awful could ever be natural. Something had to make it that way, just like how something had to make Harmonial Instruments.”

Eleanor shook her head. “Even I don’t know where the Harmonial Instruments came from, or for how long Dissonance has inhabited this world. As it stands, only the instruments themselves could tell their tales.”

“No one knows anything about them?” Octavia asked. “That…can’t be right. Maestros and Maestras all over the world, and no one else knows a thing?”

“I’m afraid much of that information has been lost to time, dear,” Eleanor answered sadly. “The world of Maestros and Maestras is a secretive one, hidden away from those who would compromise its sanctity. Take pride in your identity as a Maestra, but guard that secret with your life.”

“Who would ever want to hurt a Maestra?” Octavia asked, perplexed. “What would they gain from--”

“Power,” Harper interjected suddenly. “Fortune. Maybe.”

When Octavia’s eyes flickered to him, his gaze was almost distant. She tilted her head and nudged his shoulder. “What are you thinking about?”

He shrugged. “This might be a bit of a stretch, but I highly doubt that there isn’t a single other person in this world who doesn’t know something. If this power is as special as you say, there must be others who know how important it is. People who know the truth, the details, all that.”

Eleanor paused. “It’s very true that I don’t hold all the answers to the mysteries of the Maestro world. I was born and raised in the capital, as was my mother before me.”

“Did your mother teach you how to be a Maestra?” Madrigal asked quietly. Hearing her speak again, quiet or otherwise, was nice.

Eleanor nodded. “She taught me all that I know, as did her mother to her. Ours is a proud lineage of Maestras, each with the same partner, passed down through time.”

Viola opened her mouth, and yet closed it just as quickly. Harper continued in her stead.

“So then there were generations before you who knew about Maestros and Maestras. If that’s true, there’s no way that there’s no one else in the world without a similar situation. There’s other people who know more about…all this,” he spoke, gesturing freely to nothing in particular. “I’m sure of it.”

“Maybe your sister knew something,” Madrigal offered calmly, tapping Octavia’s shoulder.

Her words were nearly lethal, given the way Octavia’s heart skipped far too many consecutive beats. “You think my sister disappeared because of Maestra stuff?”

“It makes sense,” Viola added. “It wouldn’t be a stretch to say she knew more than we do. She disappeared under awfully mysterious circumstances.”

“Then it seems,” Eleanor added, “that your sister may be another great mystery of the Maestro world, as well.”

Once more, her hand was upon Stradivaria’s case. It was instinctive.

“If the knowledge of Maestros and Maestras stretches back that far, it’s reasonable to say that all of this had to start from somewhere,” Harper continued. “Maestros had to start from somewhere, right? And if they started from somewhere, the Dissonance had to start from somewhere, too.”

“And if it started from somewhere, then it isn’t eternal,” Viola breathed.

“And maybe it can be stopped,” Madrigal added hesitantly.

“Viola,” Eleanor began, her words slowing the moment her eyes found Viola’s pained expression. “You know I will always put my faith in you as an advocate for the truth. Just...please, don’t get your hopes up so high that you hurt yourself instead. Be prepared for the worst.”

“I’ve already seen the worst,” she muttered. “And I never want to see it again.”

“Either way,” Harper continued, “this all starts with us learning more about Maestros, I’d guess. We won’t get anywhere if we don’t start looking into stuff ourselves.”

Octavia’s eyes fell to him, and she clung to his every word. “Do you have something in mind?”

“I had a feeling as soon as you said there might be people that are interested in Maestro stuff from the outside. Coda’s kind of a…questionable place at night, and people around here talk a lot. Honestly, way too much. It wouldn’t be too much of a stretch to assume someone else around here knows something about Maestros.”

“Isn’t it lucky that we all found each other?” Madrigal added. “One Maestra from Silver Ridge, one from Minuevera, and two from the capital--with another retired Maestra there, too.”

Viola nodded. “Very lucky, and that only covers a really small part of Mezzoria. Mathematically, if this many Maestros and Maestras are in such a specific area, there should be plenty of others across the continent. I refuse to believe we’re alone.”

Technically, their explosive experience in the forest would’ve made five. Octavia declined to start a problem by pointing it out, for whatever could’ve possibly left Viola’s mouth afterwards.

“Still, where do we even start?” Octavia asked. “I don’t know anything about Coda, so I’m admittedly not much help here anyway.”

Harper tilted his head. “I’ve got one idea, but it might be a little convoluted.”

“We’re listening,” Madrigal said with a smile.

He crossed his arms. “There’s an event scheduled to happen at the auction house here in Coda tonight. Music-themed, for whatever reason. I think they kind of rotate themes or something, I don’t know. Either way, it’s gotten a little bit of attention from people with…interests, so to speak, that makes me a bit suspicious.”

Octavia recognized the term, bitterly spoken as it was. It took effort to remember the names at all. She more or less guessed. “Holly and Ivy?”

Harper nodded, the confusion gifted to the remaining Maestras notwithstanding. “I’ve never been to one of the auctions myself, but they’re pretty well-attended, from what I’m aware. Rich people tend to end up there and start exchanging stuff from all over the place. If there’s a sizable interest in things related to musical instruments, maybe we can find something Maestro-related?”

“That…is a pretty big reach, if I’m being honest,” Viola scoffed. “Just because it’s music-related doesn’t necessarily mean we’ll find anything. Our luck so far has been good, but not that good.”

He shrugged. “I tried.”

“But it’s better than nothing,” Octavia argued. “Any lead is better than no leads. Even if we don’t find out anything, we’ll still have at least gotten to try. We...don't exactly have anything else to go off of right now.”

For the brief moment that her eyes flickered to the woman long since excluded from the conversation, the soft smile she found once more was warm. She appreciated it, and she returned it as best as she could. She made a mental note to offer her gratitude verbally, later, just the same.

“Well, suppose we did actually try this," Viola continued, every word splashed with skepticism. "What time does the auction start? This is…really short notice.”

“Nine o’clock,” Harper stated plainly. “We’ve got time.”

“With what credentials? How would we even get in?”

“We have a Vacanti with us. You said your family specializes in art stuff, right? And you’re, you know…affluent,” he tried with another shrug. “Isn’t that enough of a credential?”

“M-Me?” Viola stammered. “I’ve never been to an auction in my life. My father was responsible for all of the art trading in our family, but he never brought me along.”

“That’s even better,” Octavia added. “If you can bring something with us to contribute, it might make it even easier to get in.”

Viola paused for a moment, settling her cheek into one hand comfortably. “We don’t exactly have any shortage of art around here. Maybe something music-themed would work, if we’re really going all out on this.”

“What are we gonna wear?” Madrigal asked with a soft tilt of her head.

Octavia blinked. She hadn’t exactly brought along anything formal, nor did she own anything in the first place. If the general presentation of at least two of her three newest companions was anything to go by, comfort largely took priority over elegance. It was nearly reassuring. Attending in her regular clothes didn’t seem so severe on a personal level. She doubted Viola would agree, given how little Octavia knew of Coda as it was.

“That won’t be an issue,” Eleanor offered, her soft voice still just as startling and sudden. “We have plenty of formal clothes here in just about every size. You’re all welcome to take whatever you need.”

Viola nodded. “Octavia, you and I wear the same size, and we can find something in my mother’s old closet for Madrigal. There’s bound to be something small enough.”

Harper raised one hand with a nervous chuckle to match. “You, uh, wouldn’t happen to have anything for guys, would you?”

Eleanor smiled. “But of course, dear. I’ve saved each and every suit my sweet Vincent has ever worn. He’s far too big for them now, of course, but a mother has trouble letting go of certain memories.”

“Not like he needs a suit where he is now,” Viola muttered bitterly.

Harper returned the woman’s smile. “Thank you, ma’am. I promise I’ll bring it back in good shape.”

Viola rose from her seat, clapping her hands together somewhat dramatically. “Alright, this plan is a hot mess, but it’s apparently all we’ve got, and it’s better than sitting around debating. I’ll go to the basement and get the art, you three get cleaned up, and we’ll…figure this out as we go, I guess.”

Madrigal’s smile as she rose to her feet in turn came independent of her usual vigor. It was enough for Octavia’s eyes to trail her just a bit too long, and it took conscious effort to remember her promise of gratitude. She did what she could to focus on granting her thanks, instead, peeling her gaze away from the Maestra as best as she could.

“Miss Eleanor, I can’t possibly thank you enough for meeting us,” Octavia offered instead.

Eleanor beamed. “It was my pleasure, dear. To see the next generation of young Maestros and Maestras thriving is enough reward for a lifetime. All I ask in return is that you take care of my Viola.”

Octavia nodded resolutely. “I’ll make sure she’s safe, I promise.”

“I know you will,” the woman assured. “Your light is meant to guide.”

She brushed her fingers against the cat one last time on the way out, at least. It was largely in tandem with Harper that she departed the cozy room, for how the Maestras ahead of her had already begun the process of ascending the grand staircase she’d nearly forgotten about. Even once more surrounded by clean and pristine whites, it was somewhat less imposing with two Maestras scaling its tall steps. Neither did so with notable energy, and she followed their steps with a nagging discomfort. It blunted the overwhelming aura of the vast manor at large, still scathingly unexplored and amplifying her every motion with an unfortunate echo.

“That reminds me,” Octavia said, “I’ve been meaning to ask about this auction thing. What made you think it might’ve been a lead? Besides the obvious.”

Harper sighed, lowering his voice somewhat. “I wasn’t lying about everything I said. It really does all make sense, even though I agree it could definitely be a reach. Still, Holly and Ivy are loud, annoying, brazen, and all-around bad influences. I wasn’t going to admit to it in there, but I’ve never once seen them get involved with anything that didn’t end up with something ridiculous attached to it. Domino’s actually the one who tipped me off to this whole thing even happening, and he heard about it from them. If they knew about it in the first place, it probably comes with something of merit.”

She blinked. “What does that mean?”

“They are literally magnets for unsavory people,” he answered bluntly. “I’m convinced it’s intentional at this point. They’re always chasing whatever they think will get them somewhere profitable. If this is what they’ve got their sights set on, it’s at least worth looking over their shoulders at--not that I really want to follow them in any capacity. I don’t exactly know what goes on at these kinds of events, anyway.”

“Where there’s smoke, there’s fire,” Octavia murmured.

“Exactly. Unfortunately.”

“You…seem to know a lot about them. Do you guys know each other personally?”

Harper’s face crumbled in what she could only presume to be absolute disgust. “God, you have no idea how badly I want to say no. We’re not exactly well-acquainted, but we most definitely are not on good terms. That’s putting it nicely. We’ve got different…ideologies. Not sure how else to word it. It’s worse because they’re convinced I’m intentionally trying to screw with their income.”

Octavia smirked. “By which you mean keeping Domino in line?”

“By which I very much mean keeping Domino in line, and away from them,” he groaned. “It goes a bit deeper than that, but you’ll see what I mean in a bit.”

“In a bit?”

He sighed once more. “They’ll be at that damn auction. I’d stake my life on it. They flock to wealthy shiny stuff like moths to a flame. You’ll be able to hear them from across the room.”

Octavia fidgeted quietly. “Do you think we might be in too deep with this whole thing?”

His grin was appreciated, mildly sarcastic as it was. “We were in too deep the second you told me about magic violins and trumpets.”

She found a smile in return. At the very least, she wouldn’t be in too deep alone.