"Laudate te, Sol nostra salvator—"
The hymn soared through the stained-glass windows, drifting toward the heavens, while fractured sunlight spilled from the church's vaulted ceiling, bathing the pure white sword-wielding statue behind the pulpit in a golden glow. Up front, two young women were the source of the ethereal song.
The taller one, her flaxen hair tied back in a ponytail, led the melody with confidence. Just behind her, a girl with flowing golden locks harmonized perfectly. They moved in sync, like sisters bound by more than blood.
As the song faded, the lead singer, Kyrie, let out a relieved sigh, brushing a hand over her chest. She glanced at her partner. "That's enough for today. Good work, Nero."
Nero, her blue eyes sparkling under golden bangs, shook her head, her voice soft but firm. "I'm not tired yet, Kyrie. You?"
"We've been at this all afternoon. How are you not wiped?" Kyrie spun around, playfully tapping Nero's forehead and wiping away a few beads of sweat. "You're always pushing yourself too hard."
"I'm fine, I—"
"Listen to your big sis."
Kyrie cut off Nero's protest, grabbing her hand and tugging her toward the church's massive doors. "You go all-out on everything. Never admit when you're beat, and if you think you didn't nail a note, you're off practicing alone. I've known you for years, Nero. I see right through you."
"…Yeah. Sorry." Nero's head dipped, her voice barely a whisper.
Kyrie paused, softening. "Hey, I'm not scolding you, Nero. I'm just saying—rest when you need to, okay?"
"Okay."
Nero pressed her lips together, trailing behind Kyrie with a quiet sigh in her heart.
The Demon Blade Festival was right around the corner, the biggest event of the year on this isolated island. As one of the chosen songstresses set to perform, Nero's nerves were fraying with every passing day. Even though Kyrie and Credo both swore she was more than ready to take the stage, that restless fire in her chest refused to die down.
Kyrie glanced back, catching the worry etched on Nero's face. Her brow furrowed for a split second before she flashed a bright, reassuring smile. "You're fine. No need to stress."
Nero looked up, meeting Kyrie's sunset-lit grin. Her tension eased, just a bit. "But… Credo—"
"No stress," Kyrie repeated, firmer this time. "He fought to get you this spot because he knows you've got the chops. Sure, there's usually only one songstress, but that's just habit, not some sacred rule."
She pushed open the church doors, letting warm sunlight and a salty sea breeze flood in. With a teasing grin, she added, "If Fortuna wasn't such a tiny town with no real choir, the Pope'd probably want a whole squad of singers up there on festival day, don't you think?"
"Yeah." Nero's furrowed brow finally smoothed out. She gazed down the hill at the sleepy town, then back at Kyrie and the sun dipping into the sea. A faint smile tugged at her lips. "Thanks."
She buried her churning anxiety, hiding it from her adopted sister as they stepped outside.
Still, deep down, she didn't feel ready.
"I'm heading to the orphanage next," Kyrie said. "Wanna come, Nero?"
The church doors creaked shut behind them. Nero's gaze drifted toward the orphanage Kyrie mentioned, and she nodded absently. "Sure, I'll tag along."
Kyrie's face lit up. "Great! Sister Sista's been saying she hasn't seen you in forever. Let's go together!"
The two set off, weaving through the church garden and down the cobblestone streets toward the orphanage nearby.
Fortuna, a devout little island cut off from the rest of the world, wasn't exactly bustling at dusk. Most folks stayed indoors, partly because the town lacked any real nightlife, and partly because of the dangers that crept in with the night.
Demons. Lurking in the island's shadows, impossible to fully stamp out.
But Kyrie and Nero weren't fazed. Sure, demon attacks happened now and then, but they were usually out in the forests or snowy mountains beyond the town. Inside Fortuna's walls, protected by the Order's knights, things were safe enough, even after dark.
The stone-paved streets had no need for streetlights—there wasn't even a power plant in town. The few who needed electricity rigged up private generators on their rooftops. Fortuna was a place of faith and asceticism, after all.
On this dim, sunset-stained street, Nero and Kyrie walked slowly, chatting and laughing softly as their footsteps echoed on the cobblestones. The orphanage would be wrapping up evening prayers and starting dinner soon, so there was no rush. Their pace was easy, relaxed—until a blood-curdling scream shattered the calm, coming from the direction of their destination.
"Demon!"
Nero and Kyrie froze, senses sharp, straining to hear over the evening breeze. Beneath the desperate cry for help, the chaotic wails of children reached their ears.
A demon at the orphanage.
"Nero, go get Credo!" Kyrie barked.
"Kyrie—!"
But Kyrie didn't wait. She took off toward the orphanage alone, her white rehearsal gown trailing behind her. Nero hesitated for a heartbeat, ignoring the order to fetch her high-ranking adopted brother. Instead, she chased after Kyrie.
She knew the orphanage was guarded by Order knights. Kyrie, charging in from outside their protective perimeter, was the one in real danger.
Their long white dresses weren't made for running, slowing them down. A flicker of relief hit Nero—maybe by the time they got there, the knights would've handled it. They wouldn't have to face the demon.
It seemed like that might be the case.
"Sister Sista!"
From a distance, Kyrie spotted the orphanage's matron, shaken but alive, in the faint light. She called out, jogging closer.
Sister Sista turned at Kyrie's voice, then froze, her face paling.
The knights nearby glanced over too, their expressions shifting from surprise to grim focus as they drew their swords.
Nero, trailing just behind, locked eyes on something behind Kyrie. Her blood ran cold.
From the shadows of a narrow alley, a humanoid figure stumbled out, draped in a tattered sack. It gripped a rusty machete, swaying as it emerged.
A demon. One that slipped through the cracks.
Kyrie, oblivious, kept moving forward. The knights, bound by tradition and armed only with swords, were too far to act.
Nero's gut screamed danger.
"Kyrie!"
No time to think. Nero shouted her sister's name, lunging forward and shoving Kyrie out of the way.
Kyrie hit the cold cobblestones hard. She scrambled up, looking back, and her face drained of color.
"Nero?!"
Nero, who'd pushed Kyrie to safety, was now sprawled on the ground. The demon's rusted blade had pierced her chest, pinning her to the stone.
Warm blood soaked her white dress, staining it the color of the dying sun.
"Nero!"