The remaining Virtuosas trickled in one by one. Harriet, ever the social butterfly, recognized them all. She pointed to each, whispering into Tifalla's ear all the while. It was a strange sort of situation to be a part of. Having the most popular priestess treat her like a gossip buddy was a bit of a dream come true; though she dare not admit. It was only a shame that their participation in The Fall was what led to it.

  The first to arrive was the woman in the bronze mask. She was tall, pale, and curvy in a way that not even her robes could hide. Her long lilac hair, wet, clung to her mask in thin wavy lines. She momentarily surveyed the room, briefly lingering on the pair who watched her before sauntering off to her own seat.

  “Lady Kaho was chosen by Lord Yua,” Harriet said.

  “It's horrible. So many people loved her,” Tifalla murmured.

  “They probably still do. If there's anyone who could beat Lord Ophirius, it would be Lord Yua.”

  Though Tifalla did not speak to Lady Kaho often, her influence was vast within the realm of priestesses. She was effectively everyone's older sister; a priestess who chose, of her own volition, to stay past her assigned four years. Types like her were rare and everyone recognized that.

  Sixteen years of service burned to ash. What a cruel joke.

  The next to arrive was a younger priestess. One who, without a doubt, wouldn't be permitted to leave under normal circumstances. Her brown eyes were wide and wet with tears as her disheveled blonde hair swayed in tune with her movements. She did not walk in so much as she was dragged in by a councilman. Her cries were harrowing.

  Yet, Tifalla did not recognize her. Reading her confusion for what it was, Harriet leaned close to explain.

  “That's Dali. She was just initiated a few months ago. Never leaves her room outside of chores.”

  “That young?!” Tifalla whispered, astounded.

  Dali was only let go by Kaho's request. She took it upon herself to try and reassure the frightened girl by holding her in her arms. Dali only briefly fought her help before uncontrolled sobs took over.

  “Mhm. She was chosen by Lord Wyrmot.”

  A knot formed in Tifalla's throat. She hesitated to think of it. It felt horrid. But deep down she knew the truth.

  There was only one type of Virtuosa more scorned than the ones of time.

  Following Dali's entrance was a more composed and distinguished individual. She was a beautiful and plump woman with a face adorned with sharp red make-up. Her pristine, ivory face only shifted from its calm to express disgust over the sight of Kaho and Dali together. Thoroughly unamused, the light brunette walked to a seat distant from all.

  “Sirene…” Harriet grumbled. She didn't even try to hide her disdain. Tifalla supposed that not all popular people got along.

  “She was the first, wasn't she? Lord Ishamar's?” Tifalla asked.

  Harriet nodded.

  Sirene, much like Harriet and Kaho, held a devout following. She was a trendsetter, a trailblazer in the realm of self expression and beauty. Her tips were what gave priestesses the ability to be individuals in a world that told them to be uniform. Tifalla couldn't deny that she admired the woman.

  Harriet, however, had the opposite opinion.

  “A rat in human clothing.” Harriet said.

  Aloud.

  All eyes were on her. By proxy, all eyes were on Tifalla.

  While Kaho eventually looked away to console Dali, Sirene did not.

  Her glare was sharp and pointed. She gave Harriet no satisfaction of a verbal argument, but she made it very clear that she heard what was said.

  Harriet gave her a lazy smirk in return. Tifalla shrunk at her side, only giving a wave in hopes of placating the tension between them.

  Well before their conflict could spark into an uncontrolled flame, another Virtuosa entered. With her arrival, the air itself seemed to shift.

  “Hope I'm not late, ladies.”

  Standing proud and bold was a priestess with warm sepia skin and cool gray hair. Her eyes were bright, perfectly matching the brilliant smile she wore. Tifalla immediately smiled upon seeing her.

  “Ulya!” she called, waving both of her hands.

  Their eyes met and Ulya seemed to radiate joy. “Tifa! You're here too? What a coincidence! Ah– Harriet too?”

  “Ulya~ how's my partner in crime doing?” she cooed.

  “Oh quit it. I'm doing wonderfully! Couldn't be better.”

  She approached Harriet and the two bumped their hands together. Tifalla was given a rough head rub by Ulya's calloused hands. Though it wasn't painful, it was certainly enough to unsettle her pinned hair. Even so, she laughed.

  Ulya, if Tifalla's memory served well, was chosen by Lord Cyphan. Despite this fact, she didn't look the least bit troubled. She spoke no lies when she said she felt great. Tifalla could only wonder how she managed under such circumstances.

  “Wishing you both the best, you hear?” she cheered. Just after, she departed for her own seat near Kaho and Dali. Her words were enough to put smiles on both Tifalla and Harriet's faces. Though they parted for the time being, it felt nice to have such honest support from afar.

  While they spoke to Ulya, another Virtuosa entered. Her arrival was far less grand. Tifalla almost failed to notice her. She walked past everyone and made a beeline for Sirene's spot where the two began speaking. Their conversations were hushed, but Tifalla didn't concern herself with their topics.

  “That's Fabienne,” she pointed. “Lord Verbana's.”

  Tifalla wondered if they were a good match.

  Harriet perked up momentarily before looking away in disinterest.

  Though not as glamorous as her conversation partner, Fabienne was no less alluring to the eye of most. She sported olive skin and exceptionally long dark brown hair, a distinct contrast to Sirene's lighter palette. She was a far more expressive and happy sort, seemingly doing most of the talking for the pair. Their companionship wasn't a shocking sight. Both she and Sirene were priestesses that stayed beyond their four years. They were older women, and more mature than those around them. Sticking together was perhaps natural to them.

  The second to last of the Virtuosas stormed in. She, like Dali, was escorted inside by a councilman. Unlike Dali, however, her councilman looked exceptionally haggard. Tifalla recognized him as Rufus.

  The woman stepped forth and shoved him away, treating him as if he weighed nothing. When he hit the ground, his face contorted in fury. The Virtuosa cared little for any potential retribution he might have brought. After all, she was more important than he could ever be. The power lies with her. If Rufus tried to retaliate, punishment would be swift and severe. He knew this, and it enraged him.

  “Yanno, you're not very impressive,” she whined. “This was what the priestesses of flame feared?”

  It was Michi. It couldn't have been anyone else. Her presence marked the second shift of the day, bringing forth a sense of unease in every person sitting in the room.

  She looked around, surveying the reactions to her presence. She then laughed in an almost high pitched screech.

  “Sizing me up already? At least you all can pose an actual challenge.”

  She sounded pleased. A gleeful grin spread across her features. It never quite reached her eyes.

  She skipped forward, stomping on Rufus in the process. His groan of pain may as well have been background noise to Michi. She pranced forward until she found a spot near Sirene and Fabienne. Only when she passed did Harriet say anything.

  “Lord Raunas sure knows how to pick ‘em,” she said.

  Tifalla remained quiet. Seeing Michi was unsettling. She normally steered clear of her at all times. Most did. Only now, their meeting would be unavoidable, and this time there was nothing to stop her from doing whatever she wished.

  Dangerous in the past and dangerous in the present. It didn't take a genius to know she would be dangerous in the future.

  Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.

  The last to arrive was, by process of elimination, Laetitia. Lord Ophirius’ chosen made her entrance alongside her councilman. Behind her were droves of priestesses, each clamoring to be the loudest in bidding their idol goodbye. Laetitia looked visibly exhausted and agitated. Her cane harshly tapped against the ground, slammed every time she took a step forward.

  Everyone reacted to the noise. Those that were loud fell silent before it. Tifalla wondered if it was due to the cane's noise or Laetitia herself.

  As the last to arrive, her presence demanded recognition. She glared at anyone who would look, but paused when she saw Tifalla. At that moment, everything halted and she made her way towards her. Tifalla felt herself shrink.

  Must they speak now?

  “Tifa–”

  A body shielded her, stunning her for just a moment.

  “Ah. Ah. I'm a bit busy with her. Do you mind?” Harriet said, her lips quirked into a smile.

  Laetitia scowled and the hold on her cane tightened. “Huh? I don't care if you are, I want to speak to her,” she said.

  Harriet pouted. “How rude. Did no one teach you any manners?”

  With every word, Laetitia seemed closer to striking Harriet outright. Only the word manners gave her pause. She looked at Tifalla. Whatever she saw prompted her to back away. It was a small step first that gradually changed into a weak stride.

  Tifalla hated to see her leave, but she also felt relieved deep down. Both mixed together into an ugly emotion she wanted to rid herself of.

  Laetitia was her friend. She could have heard her out.

  Harriet whistled, watching her departure. “I guess someone did. Who do you think managed to get through that knucklehead?” she asked, looking at Tifalla.

  “Harriet!” she whispered.

  “Sorry, sorry~ But you don't exactly seem ready to talk to her. Look at your face,” she pointed. Tifalla lowered her finger with gentle hands. She didn't need a mirror to know how she must have looked.

  “Maybe,” she uttered.

  A sigh escaped. Harriet took the opportunity of proximity to hold her hands.

  “It's just that… the last I saw her, she was surrounded. She just feels so much harder to approach. I don't know what to say to her right now…” she said.

  It didn't feel right. She thought she would always know what to say with her. That was how it felt. Talking to Laetitia was always easy.

  Now? Tifalla didn't know anymore.

  “From zero to hero in just a few hours. The sad thing is, it's probably not genuine,” Harriet said, her thumb lightly sweeping across the back of Tifalla's hand. She smiled, a bit, touched by her attempts at listening and comforting.

  “You know, a part of me was a little happy,” she said.

  “Why so?”

  “Laeti is a good person. She's so graceful and smart. Sure, she's a bit prickly, but she's caring,” she spoke, reaching far into their memories together. “Seeing her with so many friends, for a moment, felt like validation. That everyone finally saw what I did.”

  The light faded from her eyes. Her head lowered and her grip waned. Harriet noticed it all. “But?”

  “It's not real,” Tifalla said bitterly. “It's like…” she paused. “...an illusion. They didn't listen to a word she said.”

  After silence fell over them, Harriet spoke up with her thoughts.

  “They want to get close to their new leader. Being in the good graces of a Virtuosa is being in the good graces of a Lord.”

  Tifalla nodded.

  “Right. It wasn't Laeti's fault. I just need time. Time I don't have anymore.”

  The more she spoke, the worse she felt. Their time together was dwindling. Fairly soon, the only time they could meet is as enemies. Tifalla didn't want that. She didn't pray for that. How much longer could she avoid her? The Fall would begin in just a few days— If Tifalla had something to say, it needed to be said soon.

  But the moment she saw her, everything in her head seemed to disappear. All that remained was a hollowness in her chest.

  She just couldn't do it. Not right then, not now.

  “Don't push yourself too hard,” Harriet said.

  When Tifalla looked up, she wore a smile; a somewhat boyish grin that felt unburdened by everything.

  “No matter what happens, don't forget that you were buddies, yeah? Whatever happened in the past between you two was real. Use those memories as comfort, fuel even.”

  Tifalla looked down at their connected hands.

  Harriet was right. She wanted her to be right. Even if things were presently different, it didn't mean nothing was ever real. Her friendship with Rhea and Laetitia was real. Her life within Cantabile was rich and full of experiences. The feelings of warmth and love it gave her didn't have to be bitter resentments. It just wasn't how Tifalla wanted to think of things. No matter what, she was going home and taking her memories with her. If she was going to die, she was going to die with a smile.

  Tifalla looked up and smiled. A real one, awkward and lopsided as it was.

  “I'll talk to her,” she eventually said. “She's important to me. I have to.”

  Harriet smiled with her. “Geez, you're making me jealous here. What do I have to do to get a smile like that from you? Be your friend?”

  She leaned closer and Tifalla stared back at her in confusion.

  “Are… we not friends? Was I being presumptuous?”

  For a moment, Harriet shared her bewildered expression. It then melted into another smile. It was one that felt different from her usual looks, however. Tifalla couldn't place how or why, but she looked… embarrassed? She looked away, a faint wash of warmth lighting up her ears.

  “Ah. I'm definitely the dumb one here then,” she chuckled. “Yeah. We are.”

  That was a relief for Tifalla. She squeezed Harriet's hands and held them up, further flustering the other woman.

  “Thank you!” she exclaimed.

  She knew many would kill to be considered a friend to Harriet. Tifalla was thus grateful to be one of them. Harriet, on the opposing end, didn't seem to understand where her gratitude came from. Unable to meet her eye, she muttered to herself.

  “What on Fantasia has you so happy?”

  Tifalla prepared to answer, but was interrupted by the voice of Tawhale taking over the room. He had a commanding voice. Even within the spacious inner chamber, his voice carried far, drawing every Virtuosa towards his imposing presence.

  “If I can have some of your time, it would be best if we discuss what will come for all of you,” he began.

  The room fell silent. Tawhale looked around and nodded to himself when he counted all nine Virtuosas and councilmen.

  “As you all are aware, The Fall will commence properly in a few days time. What you've just experienced were the preliminary rounds. You have been chosen and you will thus represent your Lord in a battle of endurance and speed. Your task is simple. You must travel from The Midnight Silence to The Morning Resonance. From there, you must reach the holy city of Halyma and ring its bell in order to be crowned victor. Simple, no?”

  Tifalla had no particular questions. She was well aware of the trek between Silence and Resonance, for it was fairly famed. Though quite arduous in nature, it wasn't an impossibility. One need only pass through the gates between realms, traverse the shortest path to the next gate and continue until they reach their destination. In their case, it was the city of Halyma. It is there that the victorious Virtuosa lives until her time has ended.

  Tifalla's goal was much shorter. She only needed to reach The Afternoon Cadence where Calix was. Once there? She wasn't entirely certain.

  Tawhale continued.

  “What you choose to do with yourselves during your journey is ultimately your decision. Know that you are not completely above the law. You are, however, given full access to every location necessary to achieve your goal. This includes access to the Halyma court and Ecademis.”

  A few short gasps broke out.

  Harriet was one of them. “Into Mona?”

  “Seems like it,” Tifalla said.

  Both locations were heavily exclusive. Tifalla, a girl from a small town with only basic education, could only ever dream of entering.

  She couldn't lie to herself; she was rather starstruck.

  Tawhale ignored the looks and chatter.

  “You are also permitted to kill one another.”

  Whatever levity his prior words brought to the room was taken away by his next.

  This was no mere adventure.

  “Maim, torture, or disable at your discretion. Whatever you must do in order to win, you are allowed to do. This only applies to your fellow Virtuosas, however. Remember, you are not completely above the law. If you kill others, you are liable to face punishment or retribution,” he said. “Of course, what you do on your trek is your decision.”

  It was every woman for herself.

  “To aid you, each of you have been granted gifts by your Lord. You have three gifts from them. You will also receive two gifts from us. That is five in total.”

  Five fingers stood.

  “The first gift is the same for all of you. A boon. Your bodies will heal faster. You will also observe an increase to your endurance and strength. This will hopefully allow you to traverse the four realms more easily.”

  Four fingers stood.

  “Your second gift is unique to you. I advise you to tell no one about it. You may already know what this gift is.”

  Tifalla tensed. Was it the powers she was gifted? It had to be.

  Three fingers stood.

  “Your next gift requires another to be used. Gentlemen, if you would.”

  The dormant councilmen began moving in what almost felt like synchronization. They took to the front of the room to retrieve locked boxes and their accompanying keys. These were then passed out to each Virtuosa.

  Tifalla lightly ran her hand over the wooden box. It was heavy atop her lap despite its rather small size. The metal accents made for a beautiful encasing, and the dark wood looked sleek. Only curiosity drove her forward to peer into what lay inside. She took her metal key and opened the box, falling in step with the others. The clicks of unlocking mechanisms and the creaking of disturbed wood filled the room.

  Tifalla opened her box to find a bronze bell inside. Its handle was long, making retrieval easy for her. She pulled the item free from the box and held it in her hands. It wasn't a small bell, nor was it large. Though she couldn't wrap her hands around its body's circumference, it was still easy to hold if she grabbed it by the handle. She hesitated, halting her instinct telling her to hear it ring. Tawhale was still talking.

  “These are your tacet bells. They are relics left behind by Lord Yua. Ordinarily, one cannot use them under any circumstance. You, however, can. Your bond with your Lord enables the use of this relic. Ring it once to access your third and most powerful gift. I advise you not to tell anyone this gift either.”

  A magical relic within her hands. It stood well beyond the boundary of everything Tifalla knew. These were not common objects. Though magic was nothing new in itself, being able to use it was another tale. It felt heavier in her hands. When she ran her thumb over the thin layer of dust covering it, she was able to clearly see the small engravings within. Scratches, chips, several thousand years of history stored in one object.

  How many died holding this bell?

  Tifalla nearly dropped it outright.

  When she looked at the other Virtuosas, desperate to distract, many seemed to have come to the realization that she did. Harriet's expression in particular looked grim.

  One finger stood.

  “Your last gift will be given the day you depart. Accept it or not. This is your new reality. You may run from it, or run towards it.”

  Tawhale closed his fist, leaving it at his side as he made his final address.

  “Only one of you will usher in our new Aria. The rest will perish, taken by the elements or the hand of humans. Decide now what you intend to do with your remaining time at Cantabile.”

  Tifalla thought of her initiation. The whirlwind of emotions, the fear and beauty of it all; it was an evocative moment in her life. The vows she spoke then would remain with her forever.

  This moment held no beauty. It was terror and swelling dread. Yet, vows too were spoken here. Three short and brief sentences bound her to her new role.

  “Say your prayers. Say your goodbyes. Or say nothing at all.”

  Tifalla's hands clasped together, but she did not pray. There was no longer a need to. When her head craned up towards the ceiling, she met his gaze.

  What stared down at her was a single lilac eye and pale lashes. Hair fell around her like a curtain, caging her in with him. Yes, she knew he was not truly there, but she could feel his body heat warm her skin all the same. He was watching. Always there, always waiting. She didn't need to pray to him any longer. Not under such conditions.

  Eiwar could no longer just be a Lord to her. He was a benefactor. She was the champion fighting for his cause, if such a thing ever existed. To pray was to search for something that simply wasn't there. Eiwar only understood time. He cared not for love the way Tifalla did.

  She shut her eyes in quiet acceptance. She would not scorn him for what he is. The time for rage has long passed her by.

  She just needed to return home.