>>6310974“Yet, I believe she is ready,” comes the thunderous voice of Fra’ Catena. “In spirit, mostly. As for the rest, it will be just like Ansàrra wants.”
“As always,” Bragia agrees with a nod.
“<span class="mu-i">Starless Night,</span>” comes the Stilladìa voice right besides you as she kneads her forehead, “was I a runt indeed. With the sun in my eyes, blind and daft. Ah…” she rubs her neck, and her cheeks grow darker. Not pink, like it would be expected, but a darker grey. Even the un-light lingering amidst the tiny cracks running all over her body pulsates. “I thought it would be easier to share all this. How embarrassing…”
Your heart beats fast, your throat tightening. You whip your gaze back and forth, back and forth between the smiling young woman almost holding hands with Candeloro and the Adversary, her arms crossed, biting her lips as she takes in her own memories.
It all feels like a thin crystal ball—just a touch, a breath, and it would fall apart.
“How—How is this real? How do I know it’s not some sort of illusion or…” but even as you speak, Candeloro gently presses his hand on the small of Bragia’s back and the brunette Saint yelps softly, blushing and looking away, a hand over her mouth to stifle any uncouth sounds.
Next to you, the Stilladìa, the soul collector, the bane of everything that is holy, is shivering, her cheeks a dark grey, hand covering her mouth just like the Bragia in the memory.
“He was always so sneaky…” she muses in a hushed, heated breath. “F-Forget what you saw, Argia Candente, I-I should have started at another time.”
Alright.
It’s hard to argue with that.
This <span class="mu-i">is</span> real.
“Starless Night,” you agree with the Stilladìa.
<span class="mu-i">We are fit for storms,</span> your dad used to say.
You pray… you <span class="mu-i">hope</span> he was right.
[cont.]
