Scorched Twilight

Chapter 4: Proclivitic Plumes of Two

A/n: Y/n(not our Y/n) will be called Sathariel.

15 Years Ago, Laterano

The church bells had rang 29 minutes ago, the devotees of the Lateranan Religion all gathered here in one of the seven main churches to pray and honour their God.

In one of the seven churches, sitting in a specific pew on the seventh row, was a Liberi woman in her early twenties praying, her eyes close as she recited the verses she was taught to memorize. It used to be difficult, when she and her mom moved here after a certain incident. During times like these she would just mumble the indistinguishable words so to pass on the illusion that she knew the verses.

It was until she met a very energetic Sankta praying in the pew directly in front of her. He was much faithful to the church unlike her, willing to volunteer for choir practice and Sunday classes every chance he got. She admired him not for his pious beliefs, but for his devotion to such an outlandish religion.

His name was Patris, a boy with jet black hair and a pair of enchanting gray orbs, he was only son of one of the Bishops that oversaw this part of Laterano, which would clearly explain the reason to his willingness to include himself in said pious activities. They didn't click at first, finding nothing interesting about each other, but they would converse in short dialogue once in a while, asking how their day were going or what went on in their lives after their last conversation.

It took them a long while before they started to connect, the reason for the connection was the lack of a second parental figure. Patreal lost his mother to Oripathy after two years of his birth, while Hildegard on the other hand had a father who went missing one day, his body would never be found. They would describe their appearance, trade their experiences with said parent, sometimes even console each other when needed.

Those were Hildegard's most treasured days, being able to get close to Patris with each day, their bond becoming deeper with each conversation. It was also the time where she discovered her sudden attraction him, she would gaze deep into his eyes as her heart would suddenly race, her cheeks would heat up whenever Patris would do his cute smile or compliment her.

She was infatuated, but she didn't know how to say it. And as a result, she regret her actions.

Patris would soon be known as Cambiel, a codename he inherited from his father after his untimely death. He slowly drifted away from her. She didn't know why, and she was worried about their relationship.

What she didn't see did not extinguish her fears, but only reinforced it. Cambiel was talking to another girl, one with messy pink hair and yellow orbs that always made her look drowsy. Her name was Mary, and she was Hildegard's number one competitor.

"Ah... Ah..."

Archetto: Huh?

"Ah."

Archetto was brought out of her dream by a small hand tugging at her own, a small voice was calling out to her, a voice barely above a whisper.

Archetto: Hm? What is it Y/n? Are you thirsty again?

Y/n "Sathariel" L/n, three-years old, 10.7kg, and smaller than most kids his age. That didn't stop her from loving him though, despite not being her own child's. But what worries her is his inability to speak, for a kid his age, he has not been able to speak a word save for a few grunts or hums.

Archetto had brought him to a pediatrician a few or so times, but the results always came out as negative.

Sathariel: Mmm.

Archetto: What is it dear?

Sathariel moved his hand to point out a text in the book he was reading, Archetto immediately figured out what he meant and leaned in to get a closer look.