When morning finally dawned, Tifalla was ready to get moving for the day. She certainly felt tired being on high alert for the whole night, but so long as her limbs were fully functional, she knew could keep going. She had to keep going. With tender and sore hands, she smothered the lingering flames, covered her rest spot haphazardly with twigs and snow, took a prolonged drink of water, and went right back to her path.

  She didn't enjoy leaving footprints in the fresh snow, but she also couldn't waste time trying to cover them up. The midnight snowfall was light enough that surely evidence of her tracks would melt away as the sun rose higher and higher. She hoped such a thing would come to pass. Despite the bitter cold, Silence still had bearable temperatures. Her layers kept her sufficiently warm and the journey forward proved rather simple. Her concerns weren't whether or not she could cover enough ground. Rather, it was making sure she stayed safe.

  She passed by rushing rivers and streams. She weaved through thickets, careful to not snag her clothes on branches. When the trees began to even out and grow much bigger, she was able to walk unimpeded. The height of the trees, combined with their lingering pines, kept the ground Tifalla walked relatively shaded. Only small rays would break through the barrier, illuminating the forest floors with light that almost felt heavenly.

  For but a small moment, Tifalla stopped to take in a deep breath. The smell of wood and pine was heavy in the air.

  It smelled like freedom.

  But it reminded her very quickly that she was terribly, horribly, hungry.

  She trudged on and on. Past the painful rumbles of her stomach and the dryness of her lips, Tifalla continued. She knew she was nearing her limit, but the promise of… something kept her going.

  No, not a promise. Something tangible.

  Food.

  Cantabile's resources didn't come from thin air. Silence was crawling with farms rife with produce grown only in the snowy mountains. She knew this as many priestesses were tasked with helping in supply delivery, herself included. The trees were beginning to thin out. She was getting close to something.

  Once her growling stomach faded into background noise, Tifalla increased her moving speed. If she found nothing, she would have to hunt for her food. That alone would be a challenge when she had no blade to cut or carve.

  She could only hope and pray for relief.

  It would be found in the form of a clearing. One that contained countless rows of crops perfect for harvest. Tifalla's eyes nearly popped from her head at the sight. If she were any hungrier, she would have dug through the dirt then and there to start eating. Only having her waning restraint, however, she walked to the nearby structure overseeing all of the crops.

  Like a lighthouse at sea, the brick structure was tall and imposing. It seemed to spiral up into the sky itself, leaving Tifalla as the small and hungry speck that she was. The idea of intruding was daunting. She leaned on one foot to another, thinking of the best way to make her approach.

  As Virtuosa, she was free to enter any place she wanted. That did not, however, erase the teachings Tifalla grew up on. Intrusion was crass and rude. She needed to announce her presence and be polite. This was someone else's space and hard work, after all. Tifalla may be many things, but an impolite child was not one of them.

  She first searched the premises of the farm. Past the livestock barn and through the rows of crops, Tifalla kept her eyes focused on finding any signs of human life. When everything proved to be eerily quiet, she began to speak.

  “Is anyone there?!” she called out.

  No response came.

  “Hello?!”

  She frowned. Nothing nearby. A chicken in its pen gave a louder response. Though, perhaps such a thing was to be expected. Snow had just fallen and it was still early in the day. Most people would be inside by the fire.

  That brought her right back to the spire.

  Shuddering, wrought with a deep sense of unease, she approached the door and began to knock on the wood.

  Her stomach was driving her mad. That, she could not deny. Even so, her senses were alert. Why did she feel like—

  “Enough knockin’. I hear ya.”

  Tifalla shivered; hard. The voice, sudden and loud, prompted her to whirl around. In a flash, her back was pressed against the door, and she felt even smaller than before.

  From foot to face, Tifalla slowly looked up at the man staring her down. He was dressed in heavy coats and animal skins, only adding to his domineering size. Tifalla, perhaps, wouldn't have felt so uneasy by just his size alone. What left her worried was his expression. He looked scruffy and tired, deeply irritated by her presence at what she could assume was his door. His brown hair was a mess, his eyes were heavy with bags, and the lower half of his face, covered in jagged scars, looked rigid. She only noticed after prolonged staring, but strapped to his body was a large blade that would have surely taken two men to lift. Tifalla swallowed hard.

  No butterflies appeared, but that didn't ease her concerns that she had just put herself in a difficult situation. How did he sneak up on her without making a single noise?

  “H– Hello. Sorry to bother, Sir, I was just hoping that—”

  “Food,” he grunted.

  Tifalla blinked at the bluntness. She then nodded, still caught off guard.

  Types like him hate having their time wasted. She knew she would do well to just be honest.

  “Please, sir,” she said, bowing her head.

  The man raised his hand to scratch his head. Tifalla couldn't tell what was on his mind, but her current best outcome was being told to leave with her head still on her shoulders.

  “Yer from Cadence, aren't you?”

  “Ah– Of course– I mean, yes. Why do you ask?”

  “Way you talk and move sounds like ‘em. Move.”

  Tifalla wasted no time in getting out of his way. When his access to the door was restored, he glanced at her from over his shoulder.

  “Follow.”

  Tifalla, again, obeyed. When the door was opened and the man stepped inside, she rushed to match his long strides. He certainly walked fast for such a burly man.

  Given that he never told her to stop, Tifalla followed after the man wherever he went. She passed by a tiny kitchen, walked through his living space where a table sat, went up a flight of stairs to a storage area, and eventually walked back down them. Foolishly,, she didn't stop to question whether such an act was even safe until after she entered his space. She was fortunate that no killing intent existed within him, but he seemed to be doing a lot more than simply gathering food. She was nervous, troubled by her inability to read him, but hopeful that everything would eventually result in her finally getting a meal.

  He grabbed a pouch attached to a leather strap, a blade, a metal vial, and set them down on the table. Finally, after a prolonged period of silence, he spoke.

  “Sit.”

  She did as told with no further questioning. Sat before her were the items he picked up. All were suspiciously useful for someone in her position.

  The blade and vial in particular called her name. Before she could scold herself for having thoughts of theft, the man spoke again.

  “They continue sendin’ the unprepared. Your ilk’ll never reach Scalcrest at this rate.”

  He busied himself in the kitchen while Tifalla sat. Every so often, his eyes bore into her every twitch and tremble. He was as wary as she was. Tifalla didn't know where to look, nor what to do. She quietly squirmed in her chair, unsettled by hunger pains and fear.

  “I– I suppose they don't want to give us any unfair advantages when we already possess the Lords’ power,” she said sheepishly.

  “The church don't care for fair or unfair. They want priestesses, Virtuosas, to look a certain way,” he said.

  “Oh.”

  This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  The room fell silent. Tifalla scrambled to keep talking and find something to say, but the man sounded so… angry? What could she say?

  “Cantabile is very uniform, isn't it?” she began. “You know, one time I got in trouble for wearing my hair down. They said it was unmanageable. Why, I was so sad to hear that…”

  She was rambling to fill the void, speaking without much of a point to it all. Yet, to her shock, the man's anger seemed to subside. He still looked gruff and grim, but there was understanding in his gaze. He worked quietly on something Tifalla couldn't see.

  “That does sound like the Cantabile I know. They've never changed, have they?” he asked.

  “Not at all! The priestesses have to do the most absurd things to look like themselves. For four years too? It's all a little too much.”

  “I can't say 'm shocked. Just disappointed.”

  “Goodness, before I… left, this poor girl got into such terrible trouble for wearing the robes her lover made for her. They looked similar enough to our normal robes, but tailored to her needs, sensitive skin and all. The councilman hounded her so viciously.”

  “Which one?”

  “Rufus.”

  “He's still there?”

  “Unfortunately. What an awful man he is.”

  “Shocked he ain't been killed yet with how he acts.”

  “I don't want to wish ill on another, but…”

  “I ain't gonna judge ya.”

  “I really hope he gets what's coming!”

  It then occurred to Tifalla how the conversation flowed. It was casual, light, like a gossip session she would have with another. Something about that stuck out to her, which prompted the tilt of her head.

  “Sir, how do you know Cantabile so well?” she asked.

  “I was once a priest,” he said.

  Tifalla sat quietly for a moment. She raked her brain for answers until one finally settled in her mind. She then exploded with excitement.

  “Sir Libram!?” she yelled, slamming her hands against the table.

  The man neither flinched nor blinked. He slowly and lazily popped his neck before nodding.

  “Yeah. Why ask?”

  “You– You wrote a whole bunch of records about Virtuosa Felicity! In just four years, you've managed to contribute more knowledge about her Aria than anyone else!”

  Libram seemed genuinely taken aback by Tifalla's enthusiasm. Tifalla, in turn, was taken aback by how nonchalant he was about his own identity. A celebrity in the world of priestesses was right in front of her, and not just that, but living in the same realm that she was!

  Priests weren't very common. Though the church intentionally chose women, times occur where errors were made. Unfortunately for the priests ensnared in Cantabile's net, living as a man didn't spare them from compulsory service. Libram only remained at Cantabile for the minimum four years. But, despite the brief period of time, his work was monumental. Anyone who frequented current records would surely see his name written on the books and pages.

  “Ah. Feli,” he mumbled.

  Tifalla then piped down, covering her mouth with her hands. News surely must have reached that Felicity was no more. Her very presence announced it without care or tact. Her excitement was doubly so. She lowered her head in quiet shame.

  “I-I'm so sorry, Sir.”

  Libram shook his head, working all the while. When he uncovered a pot, a spicy and sweet scent filled the room. She perked up, eyes wide with the hope of food.

  He scooped up what sat in the pot and transferred it to a bowl. Only the sound of clattering pots filled the awkward air, leaving Tifalla with an ugly feeling of hunger and remorse.

  It wasn't until she was served that Libram began to speak again.

  “She was a miserable woman. I'm sure she was happy to die.”

  Tifalla leaned back, trying to focus on his words and not the bowl in front of her. When he noticed the small dribble of drool peeking from beneath her scar, he waved his hands.

  “Eat.”

  Tifalla looked at him and then the bowl.

  “You were close with Virtuosa Felicity, were you not?”

  Tentatively, she began to take her first few bites of food. The meat seemed to be duck, and it was cooked slowly until it fell from the bone with little resistance. The sauce it was braised in had a distinct garlic taste, slightly sweet, but quite spicy from peppers she couldn't possibly name. The first bite was heaven, and once the dam broke, she couldn't hold herself back anymore.

  Libram watched her eat passively. He had his own bowl, but seemed disinterested.

  “She was like a mom to me. Didn't grow up with one. Bein’ away from my folks was miserable. She… made it a little better. But she was one broken woman,” he said, bitter notes laced through his tone.

  Tifalla stared with eyes blown wide. The food was incredible, but she was also curious about Libram. He seemed to read her as well as she read him.

  “Winnin’ The Fall does somethin’ to a person. Feli never wanted it, but the people demanded another Aria of Light. She stopped talkin’ after that. Only person she ever opened up to was me. Said I ‘reminded her of a friend’ or somethin’ like that.”

  After gulping down a mouthful, Tifalla licked at her lips to clear away the lingering burn. She covered her mouth and spoke, albeit somewhat muffled.

  “But– Virtuosa Felicity did so much for Fantasia. Your records talked about it. She didn't completely lose herself… right?”

  “I'd like to think so. But I know what I saw. Hounded by nightmares, always guilty, always compensatin’, always tryin’ to make up for her own survival… It was an exhaustin’ way to live. There were just some things I couldn't write down.”

  Tifalla slowed in her eating. Though her stomach bemoaned the slowing pace, she didn't know if she could stomach anymore bites.

  Would that be her fate if she chose to live?

  “I knew she stopped talking after The Fall but…” she trailed off.

  “She became a husk. All that mattered were her powers. No one really cared about the woman who held ‘em. As long as she did what the people asked, the Aria was ‘prosperous.’

  His words were laced with bitterness.

  What, then, would happen to the victor after this Fall?

  Victorious Virtuosas live on borrowed time. Though they remain youthful and untouched by time for what is meant to be one hundred years, the number actually varied. Like Virtuosa Felicity, some disappear early, while others remain for the full one hundred. She knew now that they were then sent back to their Lord in a strange form of afterlife.

  To suffer with nothing but guilt and regret for one hundred years, watching as loved ones age and die… Tifalla couldn't think of a worse fate.

  To die was something she feared. Yet, somehow, living seemed just as frightening.

  Was her wish truly a worthy one? Was she chasing after her own suffering?

  What about the other Virtuosas? What about Laetitia? She didn't wish such a fate on her.

  Could she stand to let her bear that burden? Alone? Could Tifalla? Laetitia was strong. Much stronger than she was.

  Perhaps, if anyone could carry that weight, it would be her.

  But that meant Tifalla would have to die.

  Her gaze lowered. At some point, her fists had balled up.

  She felt disoriented. Her thoughts were a scrambled mess of “whys” and “woulds.”

  The conviction she built wavered yet again. Oh, what a fickle soul she was… how could she question herself now? When she's come so far, she couldn't just give in, could she?

  Or, maybe now was the perfect time to stop? To prevent herself from getting hurt even further?

  “What? Gettin’ cold feet?” Libram asked, eyes narrowed. “I ain't lettin’ ya stay here all day. Eat yer fill and get goin’.”

  Tifalla squeaked and quickly returned to stuffing her face. Regardless of how she felt at the moment, she needed to eat for fuel. The journey to the next town, Scalcrest, would be a lengthy one.

  Libram's bristles settled in time as he watched Tifalla eat. Eventually, his head lowered.

  “Sorry. I can't do much more for you.”

  Tifalla, cheeks full, shook her head. She swallowed her bite before smiling.

  “This is enough. Thank you so much!”

  Libram's eyes narrowed again. It scared Tifalla back into eating, but she failed to see how solemn his eyes truly were.

  “You should be careful out there. I got some stuff to use. Basic, but it'll help. It's lightweight too. Take em.”

  Tifalla looked down at the array of items sitting before her. The blade could be used for hunting or self defense, the pouches could carry food and fire starters, and the vial could hold water. Something was truly better than nothing. She looked at Libram briefly before bowing her head in gratitude.

  “Eep!”

  She promptly hit it against the table, rattling her bowl.

  “Uuu… pardon me!”

  Libram looked bewildered. That is, before he let out a small laugh. Tifalla's heart immediately fluttered with delight and surprise. Her forehead hurt, but his smile made it feel better.

  It's been long since she was able to talk to another while outside of Cantabile. No pressures as a priestess existed. No weights chained her down. It was just her and another human being; sincere and clumsy.

  A part of her wanted to stay. The idea of leaving was scary. Libram's room was safe from the cold. As frightening as he seemed, Tifalla felt an unspoken sense of comradery. Did he feel the same? Was that why he kept a pot of hot food for passing Virtuosas? Or did she truly get lucky?

  Ah— but Tifalla couldn't.

  She needed to return home.

  If she ever felt uncertain, she would find her way into her grandmother's arms. Her wise words, the crack in her laughter, and her shining eyes always brought inspiration to Tifalla. Returning there was all she could look towards. Once there, she could truly make her decision. To live or to die.

  Her convictions took a shift of sorts at that table. Belly full and heart warm, she felt certain of this shift as she left Libram behind. The remnants of the last Aria of Light remained. Their stories, their memories, their love was forged out of the same ordeal she was facing. She knew that only one would survive The Fall. She also knew that the survivor would carry that burden for a long time. But, hearing the cold reality and pain that came with it, it left her apprehensive.

  She wasn't yet ready. She needed more time to think.

  A blade sat strapped to her waist, and a pouch full of fire fuel and a clean water vial was slung across her hips. Her departure was as swift as her arrival. Libram was curt the whole time. But whispered beneath his breath was a genuine goodbye. Perhaps he would never see her again. Perhaps she would never see him again. But the memory remained clear all the same. To Tifalla, that was enough.

  She traversed the grounds of Silence with more strength than before. Vast valleys and forests seemed far less daunting on a full stomach and clear mind. She felt… confident. That is, she hoped that was the feeling inside her. As the sun tolled away in the sky and eventually set, Tifalla made one more stop. At the edge of a cliffside, she was able to see, clearly, how much further she had left to go.

  Stretched out before her was a clear valley covered in a thin layer of snow. Illuminating it all was the lingering light of the waning sun. Not a single tree lay within her sight, but what did stand in the great plains was a massive structure built from carved stone. It stood so far into the sky that even Tifalla's elevated position made it difficult for her to see the beast in all of its glory. She squinted. Though it did little to aid her, she was able to be certain that it was her next destination.

  The Gate to the realm of The Evening Dissonance stood before her.

  It was one of four massive structures created by the hand of the Lords. Some say Fantasia was built around these gates. Travel definitely functioned as a result of their presence, but Tifalla wasn't so sure about the first theory scholars oft hold.

  Regardless, as a result of Fantasia consisting of realms; separated bodies of land, air and sea, in order to reach different realms, one needed to pass through the gates first.

  The stone curved the higher it climbed, eventually forming a circle around a faint blue center. Like a bubble yet to fly away, the portal faintly swirled with power unknown. That core would take her to the next realm. Though far from her in the moment, Tifalla could see, even feel, that she was making progress.

  Yet, with it came the understanding that her journey had only truly just begun. She was finally leaving Silence where she had spent the last four years. The real ordeal sat beyond the boundary ahead. Even so, she felt a beautiful joy fill her head. She leapt, stumbled, and ran down the mountain with newfound vigor.

  One out of four realms were successfully traversed.