"Are you okay?" Fiore repeats, resting a hand on my shoulder.
"Y-yeah... That steam just smelled way too strong for me," I answer, still breathless. "What... what happened, Fiore?"
He scratches the back of his head, looking guilty. "Uh... I think this one's on me. I kind of... lost my focus. My mind wasn't properly tuned to the intention."
"Well... it's not just your fault," I say after taking a long breath, trying to steady myself. "I lost focus too. I... I saw you. In the visions. And that pulled me completely off track," I admit, a tight knot forming in my stomach.
Fiore exhales softly, eyes dropping. "I saw you too."
I stare at him, waiting for more, but he doesn't add anything. He keeps looking down, fingers fidgeting restlessly.
"So even though we were holding hands... we saw different things?" I ask quietly.
"Yeah. That's how the hearth works. Holding hands is supposed to keep you from getting lost... but apparently we weren't as good at it as Romina was," he says with a half-smile, giving a small shrug as if trying to lighten the mood.
I push myself to my feet, wobbling a little, taking a couple more deep breaths. "Where do you think Romi is?"
"I'm pretty sure she already reached our destination... which looks like it's actually the Buso delle Anguane. We're close—I recognize the area," he replies, scanning the dense undergrowth.
"Let's hope so," I murmur, looking around. It's hard to even spot something that resembles a path through all that green.
Fiore stands up and brushes dirt off his pants. "Come on, this way. There's a water spring not far from here."
-
We're walking along a winding trail now. We've just left the water spring behind us. I rinsed my face and mouth there, and I feel a lot better—though I can't help being a little sad that my stomach is empty again.
Fiore washed his face too.
I don't know what he saw in the hearth, but whatever it was clearly shook him. And now my curiosity is gnawing at me. I can't stop thinking about it.
In the almost unnatural silence of the forest, every step we take cracks the still air, crunching over dry branches. I watch Fiore's back as he walks ahead of me: the visions were strange, hard to interpret—but that tightness in my chest... that one was crystal-clear. And the feeling still hasn't gone away.
Did I glimpse part of Fiore's pain?
That dark hollow I sensed when we talked on his couch?
Without thinking, I reach out.
I need to touch him. I need to know.
My fingers find his palm. The knife cut from earlier is almost completely healed, but the skin is still a little swollen beneath my touch.
Fiore turns sharply, startled, fixing his eyes on me.
"Sorry... I just need some contact," I say, my voice quieter and shakier than I'd like. "I... I'm still kind of dizzy," I add, trying to justify the gesture.
He smiles and gives a small shake of his head. "Of course, don't worry," and he squeezes my hand gently. His warmth wraps around me like a hot bath, and—unsurprisingly—my heart kicks into overdrive.
"Tell me if I need to carry you too, princess," he adds with a soft laugh, though I catch a flicker of genuine concern in his eyes.
"No need. That one time at the Rocca was plenty," I shoot back with a sideways smile.
"Well, it wasn't for me," he grins. "I'm always happy to take you in my arms..."
He smirks.
"Or... just take you."
I just stare at him, letting the silence stretch for a beat between us. Then I sigh.
"Don't you ever get tired of flirting?"
"Nah. Flirting is kind of a core feature of my personality," he says lightly—but his eyes drift elsewhere. Far away.
We keep walking like that for a while, hand in hand. My heart refuses to calm down.
"So..." I start again, trying to push the conversation forward without hiding behind jokes.
I want to know what my visions meant.
I want to know what he saw.
I want to know what he feels.
"Would you flirt like this with anyone?"
"No. Not with just anyone," Fiore replies, still staring straight ahead.
"Then what?"
"What do you mean, what?"
"What does it mean that you wouldn't do it with just anyone?" I press, tightening my grip on his hand.
"In what sense?" he answers distractedly, eyes fixed forward as if this talk barely matters.
Frustration bubbles up. He's dodging my questions, pretending not to engage.
"I honestly don't understand you," I sigh again, bitterness slipping into my voice.
"There's not much to understand. I say these things because I feel like saying them. That's it," he shrugs.
"Right... like when you said you're not the relationship type..." I push on, trying to get at least a reaction. "And yet you act jealous. My intuition tells me there's more going on..."
I feel him stiffen.
"I don't know what to tell you. Words are just words. They don't necessarily hide some deeper meaning," he snaps.
"That's not what I meant—" I try to explain.
"I can't be your boyfriend, Milo," he cuts in, voice tight, body rigid.
"I—I wasn't asking that!" I blurt out, flustered and just as frustrated.
"Then what are you asking me? If you're not clear, I can't understand. I'm not a mind reader," he replies sharply.
I fall silent, mouth slightly open.
All I want is for him to open up.
To actually tell me what he feels.
Why doesn't he get it?
Do I really have to spell it out, straight to his face?
Fine.
If that's what it takes, I'll be direct.
Starting with the visions.
"What did you see in the hearth?" I ask.
His hand trembles in mine—just for a second, but I feel it.
"Nothing important."
"I don't believe that," I say, squeezing his hand again, trying to tell him without words that he can trust me, that he doesn't need to be afraid.
"It's not my problem," he replies lazily. "Next question?"
"Vaffanculo*..." I mutter, letting go of his hand.
My heart keeps pounding against my ribs, but it doesn't feel good. It's anxiety. And I don't even know if it's mine or his. Ever since my Intuitive Empathy awakened, I can't tell my own emotions from the ones I absorb around me anymore.
"Forget it. Do whatever you want... not that that's anything new," I finish, defeated.
"Exactly. I always do whatever I want. Just because we have a contract doesn't make you an exception," he snaps, venom in his voice.
"Wow... good for you," I say flatly. "I'll be sure to remember that."
I shove my hands into my pockets.
I know what you're doing, Fiore. Just like last time. You're feeling attacked, and you're putting on that arrogant mask to defend yourself.
We walk in silence for a couple of minutes until, pushing past a dense bush, Romina's voice finally reaches us from just ahead.
"I thought I heard voices—there you are! Where the hell did you end up?"
I run to her and hug her tight.
"Romie, thank God! I was so anxious when I couldn't see you anymore," I say, planting a kiss on her forehead.
"Yeah, same; but hey, I saw the sign over there and thought, 'At least I must be in the right place!'"
She points to a small metal plaque fixed beside the opening of a cavern in the mountainside: "Buso delle Anguane".
Fiore gently pats her head, then, his tone suddenly serious, says, "Yes. This is the place. Let's go in."
I stare at the mouth of the cave. Inside, it looks wide, empty, silent. Still fully in the Real World, everything is just rough, jagged stone.
Yet I know that isn't all there is.
Breathing the way I've learned, I extend my fingers and slowly lift the Veil.
At firs,t it's only a shimmer, like fog thinning in the air. Then the shapes stretch, relax—and the cave transforms before our eyes.
Ancient, worn rugs scattered with cushions that look impossibly soft cover the floor. Sheer curtains with floral motifs hang from the walls. Candles flicker in hidden alcoves, filling the space with warm orange light and giving everything an intimate glow. The air turns thick with sweet incense, and in the half-darkness, delicate movements flicker, light as breath.
Then come the laughs.
High-pitched, feminine, echoing off the jagged stone walls, the source impossible to pinpoint.
A strange, uneasy feeling twists in my stomach.
"Uh... excuse me—" Fiore says, crossing the threshold.
And instantly—something crashes straight into him.
Four—no, five of them. Five stunning women, with long, loose hair, sharp features, porcelain skin. Their silk garments swirl around them like smoke, light and scented with freshly cut grass. Laughing, buzzing with excitement, they cling to him like kittens.
"Oh, Fiorenzo! You finally came back to visit us!" chirps the one with raven-black hair.
"Yes, finally! You left us all alone for so, so long..." sighs an almost-platinum blonde, stroking his chest.
"We missed you like crazy!" sings the redhead wrapped around his right arm. "I'd say it's time for you to take responsibility now."
The others giggle along with her, feeding the chaos as it tightens around Fiore.
I cringe so hard it's almost painful, and from the corner of my eye, I'm relieved to see Romina looks just as twisted, caught between shock and deep discomfort.
Well... what can I say?
I never expected Fiore—five hundred and ten years old this September, with his hedonistic lifestyle and confidence—to be a virgin. He definitely knows how to move.
But actual nymph groupies?
"Girls, please, that's not why I'm here..." Fiore says, flashing a careless smile that convinces no one, "...even though the invitation is extremely tempting."
He gives one of the women a light caress, and immediately a cascade of giggles ripples through the group.
A very undignified sound of disgust escapes me, and I roll my eyes sky-high.
Fiore clears his throat, switching gears, suddenly serious.
"My companions and I are on a mission. We need your help."
With a slight nod, he points toward us.
The anguane slowly turn their wide, curious eyes on Romina and me.
"Why are you wandering around with humans?"
*Vaffanculo: Screw you!