The morning light of Laterano crept gently across the walls, brushing against bookshelves, the dining table, and the polished marble floor like a guest too polite to wake its host.
Upstairs, Exu was still asleep, her wings rising and falling softly like curtains stirred by a breeze.
Lemuen entered the room without knocking—it was routine by now.
She carried two cheese sandwiches and a cup of warm milk. The carpet muffled her steps, and she stood quietly at the doorway, watching her little sister—who no longer looked all that little.
"Exu," she whispered, setting the tray on the small table by the window. "Eat first. You can go back to sleep after."
A muffled groan emerged from under the blanket.
"It smells like cheese," she added, sitting at the foot of the bed.
One eye peeked out. "Don't tell me you cooked it."
"Of course not. But I did reheat it with love."
"If it was made with love, it should have double the cheese."
Lemuen chuckled, brushing back Exu's tangled hair. "Come on, get up. You've got plans today, remember?"
Exu let out a tiny groan, then sat up with a long sigh. Her wings stretched slightly before settling again, twitching gently as if adjusting to the morning.
"Mostima's always late," she muttered. "But Fiammetta could show up any second and lecture me if I'm not on time."
"She'd be right to," Lemuen replied, rising. "Eat up. I have to head to the office early today."
"Okay," Exu mumbled around a bite of bread.
Once her sister left, Exu glanced at the mirror.
A young girl stared back—bright red eyes, messy pink hair, and a faint smile.
Above her head, her halo spun slowly. On her back, her delicate wings pulsed in and out like quiet breathing.
"…You know, I never thought living in a world like this would actually feel... comfortable."
She smiled again, grabbed the rest of her breakfast, and headed downstairs.
In the back garden—their spot—Mostima had arrived first.
She sat on a large stone, playing with a glowing marble that seemed to have no obvious origin.
Fiammetta stood a little further away, leaning against a wooden post.
"Morning, everyone!" Exu waved cheerfully.
Mostima lifted a hand. "Morning."
Fiammetta gave a curt nod.
Exu sat beside Mostima first. They shared a piece of candy, saying nothing for a while.
Only the wind, the distant chirps of birds, and the soft spin of the marble filled the air.
"I had a strange dream," Mostima said suddenly.
Exu turned. "About what?"
"I saw the sky—but it had a hole in it. A giant eye was staring through. And then... the three of us were standing on a bridge. But only two of us could cross."
Fiammetta shifted. "Why only two?"
"No idea," Mostima replied lightly. "But it felt... important."
Exu exhaled. "Your dreams are always weird. But... they kind of feel like signs sometimes."
Mostima turned slowly. "Maybe."
They fell silent again, until Fiammetta stepped closer.
"If only two can cross," she said flatly, "why don't we just destroy the bridge?"
Mostima laughed. "You always say things that make me feel better, Fi."
Exu chuckled too—but behind her smile, a subtle furrow formed between her brows.
She looked up at her own halo—then glanced at Mostima's, which had begun to flicker, pulsing like a signal struggling to stay clear.
Fiammetta, in contrast, stood firm. No halo, no wings. But somehow, she looked like the steadiest one among them.
After school, they visited a small art gallery owned by an old priest.
It was quiet—filled with paintings and sculptures, most depicting celestial themes.
In one corner hung a large painting titled "The Unfinished Sky."
It showed three angels standing beneath a cracked sky. But one of them had no wings.
Fiammetta stared at it for a long time.
"Fi," Exu whispered, stepping beside her. "Do you... feel strange here?"
Fiammetta's gaze didn't move. "I feel more real than this painting. But sometimes... I wonder why I'm in a place where everyone talks about light, when I don't shine."
Exu said nothing for a moment.
Then calmly, she reached out and held Fiammetta's hand.
"But you... you're the reason I know the light isn't just decoration."
Fiammetta turned. Their eyes met.
From behind, Mostima watched quietly, eyes narrowing just a bit.
At the far edge of the room, the painting of the cracked sky began to fade under the light.
But the three figures below it... grew clearer.
That night, Exu sat by her window. Lemuen hadn't returned yet.
Her wings fluttered slowly, catching the moonlight rising above Laterano's towers.
"If Mostima starts... changing," she whispered to herself, "can I stop it?"
Her halo spun rapidly for a moment, then calmed.
"And if I have to choose between protecting her... or staying with them both…"
She didn't finish the sentence.
Because tonight, the sky had no answers.
And Exu knew—very soon, everything was going to change.