Necromancy In D Minor ✔️

Sunlit Ballad

One week. That was how long it had been since Octavia saw a netherborne. She'd been playing her flute religiously every night, just enough to keep the scourge at bay, and maybe annoy her neighbours.

She wondered how long her presence alone would deter the netherborne. How long it would be before there was an attack. Every night she went to bed fearing that she'd wake up to the walls of her residence caving in. The worry and paranoia sat over her head like a thick, grey cloud, ready to burst and rain down on her.

But luckily for Octavia that cloud had a silver lining. The boat was coming in today–if it hadn't already arrived. And, if her letter had reached its destination on time, reinforcements would be here.

Octavia headed out the door. It was still early–an hour or more before the second bell would ring–and a bleak, grey sky hung over Hedalda, along with a repressive chill that crushed her shoulders into a hunch. They had seen no snow for three days, but if the thick clouds hanging in the north were any indication, they'd be getting more soon.

She walked along the frozen ground, flute case in hand. The windows of the neighbouring houses were dark, and the street was empty save for one daywalker pacing along a wooden fence. She squeezed her hand into a fist so the squeak of her glove would fill the silence.

The quiet was the most unnerving thing about Hedalda, even more so than the netherborne. At least she knew how to deal with the scourge. In Avaly there was always talk and laughter, people about. That place had been lively, even with the netherborne present.

And the lack of that was what made the silence in Hedalda so chilling. It made the town feel empty. There was nothing to remind her that there was still life there. That she wasn't alone.

When Octavia reached the end of her road, she turned away from the schoolhouse to round the pond. Up ahead, two people stood on the bridge, one unmistakably Councilwoman Diann—that red hair could signal boats into the harbor.

Standing with her, was a man dressed from head to toe in black finery, with a large, cross-shaped contraption leaning on the guardrail next to him. Diann leaned in and touched his shoulder, saying something that elicited a dazzling smile from the man.

Octavia arched a brow, picking up her pace as she neared the bridge. She took careful steps onto the ice-slicked stone, using the guardrail for leverage. The man glanced over Diann's shoulder and caught her eye, giving a small smile, while councilwoman turned, following his line of vision.

"Octavia, my darling," the man said, taking her hand and pulling her into a hug.

"Quintus." She returned his embrace, a smile breaking out on her face. "It's been too long. You look well."

"Thank you. I feel well." With his strong jawline, disarming smile and dark yet gentle eyes, Quintus was considered by many to be the epitome of beauty. The perfect balance of hard and soft features.

"You know each other." Diann's lips pressed into a thin line.

"Of course. Octavia is the friend I told you about, the one who invited me here."

"So she is." Her face remained impassive, but the glint in her eyes belied her irritation. "I should get back to the hall. I'll leave you to it." She gave Quintus a tight smile before heading over the bridge, back straight and steps measured.

"She's not too fond of you, is she?" Quintus asked when the councilwoman was out of earshot.

"She's taken issue with the council's decision to hire me. I understand her reasons, but not her hostility." Octavia sighed and leaned against the bridge's stone rail. "Thanks for coming. I hope the trip out wasn't too horrible."