The morning that followed the "Dance of the Draunara" rose over Richmond with a merciless clarity. The mist, which all night long had pressed against the Castle's windows like a hungry beast, had vanished, leaving space for a pale, cold sun that laid bare every speck of dust on the wooden barres of the dance studio.
Azzurra woke in her bed feeling as though she had been run over by a steamroller. Every muscle in her legs protested, and the skin beneath Alfio's pendant was raw, as if the metal had scorched her flesh during the height of the ritual. Yet it was not the physical pain that troubled her, but rather the deathly silence reigning in the dormitory corridors.
When she went down for breakfast, Maya's gaze intercepted her immediately. Her friend sat in a corner, her usual spark replaced by a shadow of dread. Beside her, Oliver stared into his teacup with a glassy intensity. Neither of them was eating.
"Bennett is waiting for us in the office," Maya whispered as soon as Azzurra sat down. "All three of us."
Azzurra's heart sank. They walked toward the headmistress's office—a room lined with mahogany and silver trophies—in a silence that seemed to weigh tons. Mrs. Bennett sat behind her desk, fingers interlaced, her gaze fixed on a monitor showing the security footage from the previous night.
"I don't know what you were doing," the headmistress began, her voice flat and icy. "But what I see in these videos is not dance. It is... a violation of every safety protocol and, frankly, every canon of decorum in this academy. The windows have sustained cracks, children. Cracks that the technician this morning could not explain. There were no strong winds last night, yet the sensors recorded seismic vibrations localized only in this room."
Azzurra looked at the screen. The images were grainy, but the shadows of the three teenagers could be clearly seen moving in an unnatural fashion. In one frame, Azzurra's shadow seemed to project far beyond her physical form, taking the shape of a dark column of water.
"Erica and Mattia have already been informed," Bennett continued, staring at Azzurra. "Your aunt is very worried, dear. She says this behavior recalls certain... episodes from your mother's past. She has asked me to keep you under strict surveillance and to suspend you from the Christmas ballet rehearsals for a week. Oliver, Maya, you will have a month of extra cleaning shifts and a formal demerit on your records."
Once they left the office, the tension exploded. Maya stopped in the cloister, tears in her eyes. "Azzurra, what on earth happened last night? I felt as if I wasn't myself anymore. My legs were moving on their own. And that light... that heat coming out of you..."
Oliver, however, was not angry. He was terrified for her. He took Azzurra by the arm, dragging her away from the prying ears of other students. "Azzurra, that pendant. When you touched me last night, I saw images. I saw a man among the waves, I saw a lighthouse exploding. It wasn't a dream; it was as if your memories had entered my head. Who are you, really? And why does your family seem to have an open score with the elements?"
Azzurra felt her breath catch. The glass castle Erica had built around her was shattering into pieces. She could no longer pretend to be just a talented student. "It's my land, Oliver. It's Samuele. He died to stop a demon we call the Draunara, and last night that demon tried to strike again. I... I had to answer."
Erica's arrival at the school a few hours later was the final blow. Her aunt did not scream, which was worse. She led her into the winter garden, surrounded by exotic orchids that looked fake. "Your mother promised me you would be safe, Azzurra. That you would stay away from her... practices. What you did last night has jeopardized your career and your place here. I will not allow Belinda's madness to ruin everything we have built for you."
"It's not madness, Auntie! It's the truth!" Azzurra cried out, openly rebelling for the first time against the woman who had taken her in.
Erica looked at her with infinite sadness. "The truth is that you are a traumatized girl seeing ghosts where there is only bureaucracy and poor engineering. From today, Alfio's pendant will stay in the safe at my house. I don't want to see it around your neck ever again."
In that moment, Azzurra realized her battle in London had only just begun. She no longer had to learn only how to dance; she had to learn how to hide the sacred fire beneath the English snow, waiting for the moment Sicily would call again.