"Which half?"
"You'll know when the biscuits save our lives."
Exu chuckled softly.
Fiammetta sat on Exu's other side, like it had become the new routine. She opened her notebook without expression, but eyed Mostima's little bag with suspicion.
"If that breaks school regulations, I won't keep quiet."
"Never expected you to," Mostima murmured.
"Easy," Exu said, settling in. "Your head's gonna bump into my wing."
Mostima grinned. "You do know she doesn't have wings, right?"
"Yeah," Exu replied. "Still fun to imagine."
Fiammetta sighed. As a Liberi, her body was different. She had soft feathers around the back of her neck and arms, and a small tail hidden beneath her uniform. But she had no halo. No radiant wings like her two friends.
And sometimes, she felt it too clearly.
The trouble started during second period. Their Magitek Biology teacher walked in pushing a projection board and a large box filled with small metal devices.
"Today," the teacher began, no-nonsense, "you'll practice basic Originium module operation."
Each group received one: a metallic box with a crystal panel in the center and an energy gauge on its side.
"Step one: insert the crystal. Step two: activate. Step three: observe the reaction. No modifications, no improvisations. And obviously, don't let it explode."
A few students laughed nervously. Most looked tense.
Mostima took the device and placed it on their desk.
"Looks like a toy," she said.
Fiammetta skimmed the manual quickly. "It's not. It's an educational-grade Originium device. If it overloads, it will explode."
"Ooh, now I'm interested."
Exu giggled. "Let's just try it. Who wants to start?"
Fiammetta inserted the crystal carefully into the slot. Mostima tapped the side button twice. The device lit up—briefly blue—then went completely dark.
They exchanged glances.
Fiammetta pressed the button again. This time, the light turned red. The indicator blinked rapidly.
⚠️ Unstable energy. Please remove crystal.
"Put it down," Fiammetta said quickly. "Now."
They placed it on the table. But before anyone could touch it again, the device clicked—then released a sharp burst of blue sparks into the air.
It didn't explode.
But it was loud enough to make the entire class turn around.
The teacher marched over, eyeing the trio.
"Group Exusiai. What happened?"
Fiammetta stood. "We followed the instructions. The device might be faulty."
Mostima added, "Or it just didn't like us."
"Who pressed the last button?"
Silence.
The teacher sighed. "If no one owns up, all group members will receive a violation notice."
After class, they sat in the back garden again. The place had slowly become their unofficial hideout.
"I hate violation records," Fiammetta muttered.
"You hate anything that can't be catalogued," Mostima replied lazily.
"I hate unfairness."
"Then why sit with us?" Exu asked.
Fiammetta paused. "Because... sitting alone is worse."
Exu smiled softly.
Mostima raised an eyebrow. "Y'know, without wings, you'd be the fastest to run."
Fiammetta turned sharply. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"When we run, our wings move. Everyone can tell. But you... you could vanish without a trace."
"I don't run."
"And that's why you're still here."
That afternoon, they walked home together. Not by plan—just because none of them wanted to part first.
The Laterano sky remained white. But now, three silhouettes moved in sync—two with faintly glowing wings, and one with steady, unadorned steps.
And among them, no one felt the need to be the same.