The dawn sun filtered through the Victorian windows, illuminating the cluttered kitchen. Mattia and Erica had not slept. The violence of Shimmy's last message had obliterated every trace of rationality. It wasn't a toy; it was a stagnant, destructive energy—the final manifestation of Grandpa Giovanni's greed, seeking to annihilate all joy.
They had to act. The solution was not to send it away again—the shadow followed its destination—but to destroy it completely.
Mattia and Erica made a radical decision. Without consulting Belinda, who would likely have been alarmed by the use of force, they organized the purge.
First, Erica searched for coarse salt, an ancient and universal element of purification she often used in small Beltane rituals. Mattia armed himself with tools, finding a hammer and a sturdy screwdriver.
They took Shimmy outside, to the only place on their property where life was thriving: the small garden where Teresa's almond trees were sprouting. It was a symbolic act: life would preside over the destruction of evil.
Erica sprinkled the doll with plenty of coarse salt, murmuring prayers and intentions of protection. Then, the work of dismantling began.
Mattia, the artist who had always sought harmony, took up the hammer. He felt no anger, only a cold determination. He struck the sound mechanism first, smashing the head and body into unrecognizable pieces. Every strike was a clean break from the obsession of the past.
"Shimmy ceases to exist as an entity. Her control is over," Mattia said as the plastic gave way.
Erica took care of cutting the long violet hair and tearing the dress, burning the fabrics with a small kitchen lighter, purifying the fragments with more salt before throwing them into different bags destined for separate containers in the most distant industrial landfill. They wanted to scatter the shadow completely.
The act was brutal, but necessary. The Shimmy doll ceased to exist as an entity. Mattia had been forced to use brute force, unconsciously completing a rite of purification for the family—a rite very different from those of the Wheel, but equally effective.
Mattia called Belinda only when the work was finished, a few hours later. His voice was hoarse. "Belinda, the doll has been dealt with. Don't ask us for details, but the shadow is gone. That thing will never touch Azzurra or us again."
Belinda immediately understood the gravity of the act. She felt the weight of destruction in her brother's voice, but also a newfound peace.
Shimmy was destroyed, but the energy she carried—the germ of greed—had simply been dispersed into the chaos of London, not completely dissolved. Mattia had defeated the shadow in his home, and now, in the Villetta, Belinda could finally focus on her celebration.
Mattia's task was over. But the family saga was far from finished, and Belinda knew that the shadow, even if dispersed, would seek a new point of contact. It was time to shine and to prepare for Litha, the summer solstice—the moment when light was at its zenith and could protect them from all darkness.