CAPITOLO 21

«Are you okay?» he asks me.

I nod. «More or less.»

I stand, ignoring the tension in my muscles, and step closer to the transparent panel. Beyond the glass, the water's surface is clear, a deep blue reflecting the sky—pristine, not a single cloud to mar its serenity. A small rocky islet, little more than a jagged outcrop, stretches before us, immersed in the silence of a sea that seems never to have known storms. I glance at the coordinates on the screen. I’m still a little dazed, and maybe that’s why my thoughts don’t get in the way of the information surfacing in my mind. Latitude and longitude tell me we’re near the coast of Argentario.

From the porthole, the tiny island where we’ve docked is covered in Mediterranean scrub—a wild tangle of mastic trees, myrtle, and juniper clinging to the rocks like gnarled fingers. Here and there, tufts of heather and pale-flowered rockroses break the dense green of the vegetation. A few windswept maritime pines twist into sculpted shapes, their roots gripping the barren earth in quiet desperation.

The hatch hisses open. A gust of warm, salty air rushes inside, sweeping away the oppressive weight of the submarine. For a moment, I breathe deeply, letting the resinous scent of wild rosemary and sea lavender fill my lungs.

It could seem like a refuge.

It could seem like a quiet haven, far from everything.

But it isn’t.

This sense of respite is nothing but an illusion—a carefully woven trap, disguised by the deceptive beauty of this place.

Just like life: one moment, it cradles you; the next, it betrays you.

«Never trust the calm after a storm,» I murmur to myself.

Behind me, Savannah scoffs. «Oh great, now you’re getting poetic?»

«Let me put it better,» Hermes chuckles. «Ah, the stillness before disaster. How I adore it.»

I ignore them both and jump down, my soles landing on the damp stone. The sunlight reflects off the tranquil waves, scattering glimmers of light across the shallow water that laps at the shore. For an instant, I close my eyes and listen.

The wind rustles softly through the trees, the sea caresses the cliffs with an unnatural gentleness.

Too perfect. Too still.

I hear the others disembarking one by one.

Emanuele lands beside me with his usual effortless grace. Yaku adjusts his spear across his back in a fluid motion, while Calypso steps out last, her face still marked by exhaustion and wounds.

«So?» Yaku scans the islet with a critical gaze. «What now?»

«We explore the island,» Lilia decides. «We need to find a way to reach the mainland.»

Emanuele stands beside me, his gaze lost on the horizon. So much has changed between us since he was just another student at my school. But this time, something feels different. Deeper.

It hurts. But that’s the way it is.

It’s as if we are light-years apart.

And yet, I don’t want it to stay this way.

I have passively accepted too many things in my life—starting with my father’s death. That’s no longer who I am. If these past weeks have taught me anything, it’s that I have to take control of my life, no matter how much of a mess it is.

«Will you come with me?» I ask him.

He smiles and nods. «I was afraid you wouldn’t ask.»

The air is warm, thick with the briny scent of the sea, as Emanuele and I make our way across the island. The ground is uneven, scattered with jagged rocks and wild rosemary bending under the wind. Twisted maritime pines cast long shadows over the parched earth, while clusters of myrtle and mastic bushes form a dense tangle that forces us to alter our path more than once.

«I suppose I owe you some explanations.» Emanuele’s voice is calm, but there’s tension beneath it.

I duck under a low-hanging branch and shake my head. «You don’t owe me anything. I understand that you’ve lived many lives—that’s all there is to it.»

He places a hand on my arm, stopping me. «Lilia, I know this isn’t easy. I am not easy. But I swear to you, it’s over between me and Hermes.»

«Not for him.» I glance at him briefly, and in his eyes, I see something I don’t want to acknowledge—a flicker of thoughts he refuses to voice.

He sighs. «He’ll get over it. He just wants to mark his territory.»

«I hope that’s all it is.» I shrug.

Dwelling on my personal problems seems foolish now, given our situation.

And yet, the thought of putting distance between us terrifies me.

He’s been by my side since the beginning. And in his own way, he’s tried to protect me.

«Lilia, I’m here with you. Nothing will change that.»

He wraps his arms around me, and I rest my forehead against his chest.

I can’t let go completely, but the relief I feel is beyond words.

«Thank you.»

«Don’t thank me. You deserve to be happy, and I’ll do everything I can to make sure you are.»

I nod, saying nothing more. There’s no need.

We keep walking, following the slope as it leads down toward the cliffs. The sea, an endless expanse of deep blue, stretches before us like a boundless breath, rippling only slightly under the light breeze. From up here, the water looks pure, untouched—

And yet, something unsettles me.

Too much silence.

Too much perfection.

«There.»

Emanuele points to a spot just below, where the dark rock breaks off abruptly into a narrow, irregular opening. It’s hidden in the shadows, but as soon as I step closer, I see the glimmer of water below, reflecting off the time-worn stone walls.

«A cave?»

I lean in slightly, trying to get a better look. The passage widens as it descends—a jagged stone throat plunging into the depths. A faint blue-green glow pulses from below, shifting with the slow rhythm of the waves.

Emanuele crouches beside me. «We could climb down.»

I look at him, uncertain. «And what if it’s a terrible idea?»

He offers the faintest smile. «It is. But it seems like the only one we’ve got.»

The descent is difficult. The limestone walls are slick, worn smooth by water and air. Emanuele moves with the ease of someone who knows every inch of his own body, while I proceed with caution, clinging to the rock’s uneven edges. The sound of water grows louder, echoing off the cavern walls.

When we finally touch the ground, the cave reveals itself.

It’s immense. A cathedral of stone and light.

The water, a liquid crystal, mirrors the cavern’s ceiling in shifting shades of blue and green, undulating like a living reflection. Stalactites hang from above like claws of stone, dripping slowly into the darkness. The light filtering through the submerged opening casts shifting patterns on the walls, painting shadows that never hold still.

For a moment, we say nothing.

Then Emanuele points toward the far end of the cavern.

«There.»

I follow his gaze—and freeze.

A boat. Abandoned.

Not a fishing boat, but a research vessel, equipped with instruments I don’t recognize and a radio hanging slightly askew, its plastic casing dulled by moisture.

«What the hell…» I whisper.

We move toward it slowly. The water is so clear I can see the rocks beneath the hull—a dark mass against the shimmering blue.

Emanuele presses a hand to the side of the boat. It’s intact. No signs of damage, no indication of what might have happened.

«Where are they?» I ask aloud, though mostly to myself.

He scans the abandoned equipment, as if expecting the researchers to return at any moment. Then he lifts the radio, turning it over in his hands.

«Something’s off,» he mutters. He flips the device, studying it. «It’s on.»

We exchange a glance, tension creeping between us like a whispered warning.

The air in the cave feels heavier now. The silence thicker.

My heartbeat pounds in my chest as a thought drifts through my mind, cold as the water surrounding us.

If the radio is on… why is no one here?

The gentle lapping of waves against the hull fills the quiet, an unsettling contrast to the unease coiling inside me.

If the radio is on… why is no one here?

I turn to Emanuele. He’s examining the deck, his fingers skimming the damp surface of the control panel. His face is unreadable, but the rigid line of his shoulders tells me he feels it too.

I step forward, my gaze tracing the side of the boat—then it catches on something.

A dark stain on the rock, just above the waterline.

My pulse quickens as I move closer.

I crouch. Reach out with my fingertips.

Blood.

I recoil, my breath catching in my throat.

Not much. But there. Dried into the stone, dark flecks that time hasn’t entirely washed away.

«Emanuele.» My voice is quieter than I intend.

He joins me, his eyes following mine. He crouches, running a careful fingertip over the rock, his movements precise—like someone accustomed to reading the traces of what has been.

«It’s not fresh,» he says after a moment. But there’s no relief in his voice. «But it’s not that old, either.»

We look at each other.

Something happened here.

Something bad.

I wrap my arms around myself, trying to shake off the chill creeping over me, despite the warm air of the cave.

Where did the researchers go?

Why would they abandon their boat, leave everything intact?

And most importantly—did they really leave?

Emanuele rises and moves back to the vessel. He shifts some equipment, checks the radio’s control panel, then glances at me.

«We need to tell the others.»

I nod without hesitation. I don’t want to stay here a second longer.

We retrace our steps, climbing back up the rocks faster than we came down. The blue sky above seems impossibly clear—too clear, as if trying to mask the fact that something on this island is terribly, terribly wrong.