Belinda woke up feeling as light as the white feather she had seen the day before. The grief had not vanished, but it had been reorganized, transformed into a silent strength, much like Etna transforms destruction into fertile soil. It was not just survival; it was resilience, the true magic that this land had taught her.
Her first action was to look for the metal box Elia had given her. It was no longer just a mysterious object left by her husband, but a bridge. She opened it decisively, and the contents immediately revealed their purpose, directing her newfound energy towards a concrete search. Inside, wrapped in a meticulously embroidered linen cloth, lay a small silver locket, worn by time, and engraved with a symbol that vaguely resembled an eye surrounded by waves. Beside it was a yellowed slip of paper, bearing an elegant yet unsteady handwriting, with only two Italian words and an ancient date: "Il Faro. 1928."
"Il Faro... The Lighthouse," Belinda murmured, holding the locket between her fingers. An object so charged with history could not be merely a lucky charm. There had to be a meaning, a connection to the family's past wealth, now just a faded memory.
While Elia prepared breakfast, Belinda showed the locket and the note to him and Samuele. Elia recognized the embroidery as the work of his grandmother Anna, but knew nothing of "Il Faro." Samuele, however, frowned, stroking his chin.
"Il Faro... there are dozens in Sicily. But if your family was that important, perhaps it's not just any lighthouse. And that engraving... that eye surrounded by waves. It's not a common nautical symbol." Samuele, with his unexpected detective streak, took the locket for a closer look. "It reminds me of the old symbols of Magna Graecia, the ones found carved into stones. Look, the eye could be that of Apollo, the sun god, and the waves... the sea he ruled over. It's a sign of Agrigento, Belinda. Or rather, ancient Akragas. There's a temple dedicated to him there."
The idea sparked a light within Belinda. Agrigento was not too far, and the prospect of a journey—not to escape or mourn, but to discover an unknown root—gave her an almost childish joy.
"Let's go," she declared with the enthusiasm typical of her volcanic temperament. "Today. I want to see that symbol in its own land."
Elia, though more cautious, could not deny her that opportunity. "We'll take Azzurra and go. But no dangerous investigations, promise?"
"Only wonders, my love. Only the wonder of history."
The journey was a hymn to the beauty of Western Sicily. The road wound through the hinterland, where the hills were painted in an intense ochre yellow, interrupted only by the dark rows of vineyards and silvery olive groves. The air was vibrant, fragrant with wild herbs and the distant smell of the sea. Azzurra slept peacefully, her head resting on Samuele's knees, while Belinda lost herself in contemplation of the landscape.
They arrived in Agrigento in the early afternoon. The Valley of the Temples did not reveal itself suddenly; it appeared gradually, almost on tiptoe, only to then show its full power. It was not a heap of rubble, but an epiphany.
The majestic and perfect Doric temples stood out against the blinding blue sky. They were like giant skeletons of a glorious age, immune to the passing of millennia. The Temple of Concordia, intact and magnificent, was the perfect symbol of what Belinda was seeking: permanence, resistance, and dignity unchanged by time.
"Look, Azzurra!" Elia exclaimed, waking the child. "These columns are older than you, me, and Grandpa Giovanni put together!"
Azzurra gasped, impressed by the size of the columns. Belinda, however, was not only looking at the ruins, but at the light: the Sicilian light beat down on the yellow stone, creating an almost mystical aura around the temples. They were nestled among flowering almond trees and wild agaves, overlooking the sea. It was impossible, in this place, to feel grim or macabre.
While Samuele and Elia distracted Azzurra, allowing her to run on the soft grass among the remnants of ancient walls, Belinda approached the Temple of Juno Lacinia. She felt the locket guiding her.
She took out the object, comparing it with the engravings and symbols that still adorned the temples' foundations. Walking slowly, wrapped in that silence charged with history, she finally saw it. It was not the eye of Apollo, as Samuele had suggested, but a slightly different symbol: two stylized eyes, surmounted by a Greek inscription partially eroded by the wind. But what mattered was the visual equivalence with the locket.
Belinda knelt beside a crumbled stone block and, with her heart pounding, pressed the locket against the inscription. They matched. It was a symbol of protection, used by the ancient families of Akragas.
At that moment, Samuele joined her, noticing her emotion. "Did you find something?"
Belinda, trembling, pointed to the engraving. "It's the same. This locket isn't a talisman, it's an access key, Samuele. It's a symbol my family has carried with them for generations, from here."
"So the roots are not only in the volcano and the grandfather's villa. They are two thousand years old..." Samuele murmured, astonished.
Belinda stood up, her face radiant. "Yes, two thousand years. And there's more: the Lighthouse. Uncle Carmelo and Grandpa Giovanni, the two sides of a coin that has tormented me. Maybe the answer is not in the grief, but in the light the Greeks left us. The Lighthouse was a reference point, a guide."
As the sun began to set, casting long, warm shadows over the perfect columns of the Temple of Concordia, Belinda understood that the search had just begun. She had not found material wealth, but a historical legacy of inestimable value: the knowledge that her roots were strong, ancient, and that her family had endured for millennia on that magnificent land.
She embraced Elia, who held Azzurra's hand. "The magic, my love, is this Valley. It's the truth that never dies."
The family walked away, carrying with them the sacredness of the light and the promise of the lighthouse. But now, Belinda knew what to look for. Where was the lighthouse that, in 1928, had illuminated the path of her ancestors?