Solvella s veillait doucement sous le voile chaleureux de l ’aurore. Chaque matin, depuis mon enfance, mes pas me menaient vers la Basilique Saint-Laurent. L l entre les colonnes us w s d e les ombres murmures cherchant des saints ni confessions : ma curiosit habitait ces recoins o o gardait des secrets, o les vitraux gothiques capturaient des fragments de lumi sur racontant des histoires oubli .
Mes cheveux argent argent silver contrast with the rusty red of the cobblestones; my amber eyes, so rare, lingered intensely on each engraving, every corner frozen in the silent dust. I am Ulani, and Solvella is an enigma whose code I persistently strive to decipher.
That day, my wandering led me to the Piazza del Mercato. At first glance, a few stalls displayed their fruits and fabrics, but it was not this hustle I sought. After months of hearing whispers among elders, I followed an unlikely lead: a strange symbol engraved at the base of a fountain that almost no one looked at. Its features, a mix of ideograms and a contemporary drawing, sparked a flame in my mind.
Trembling hands examined the stone and detected a barely visible hidden compartment. I opened it carefully, discovering a small rusty iron box. Inside, no jewels or letters, but a series of tokens with strange inscriptions and a carefully drawn map, evidently ancient. It indicated a path starting at the Basilica – where I had been that morning – and ending at the Montecavallo Castle, the imposing guardian of the hill.
My heart beating faster, I wondered: What did all this mean? Who had left this treasure for me to discover now?
As I advanced towards the castle, the air grew cooler, and the shine in my eyes intensified. I asked an old man watching the gardens; he told me legends, underground tunnels crossing the hill, once used to transmit secret messages. No one had entered them for centuries. No one… except me, at that very moment.
I found a small hidden entrance under the vegetation; mixing fear and excitement, I engaged. Darkness enveloped me, my amber eyes adapted to the dimness, and the whispers of the past seemed to accompany me. Advancing cautiously, guided by the vibrant map between my fingers, I suddenly reached an iron door.
I opened it, discovering a secret chamber filled with dusty artifacts and documents evoking a little-known Solvella from official history: a place of forbidden knowledge, guarded by a secret order watching over the balance between power and truth. On a table, an open book revealed symbols I had recognized at the fountain, like an echo crossing the centuries.
Raising my eyes, a figure emerged from the shadows: a man of indeterminate age, with eyes shining like mine. Without a word, he handed me an amulet; its touch was cold, but its symbolic weight immediately etched into me.
Finally, I returned to the light of Solvella, the amulet hanging from my neck and the world at my feet. I understood that my city, the one many think they know, held secrets that only the bold willing to cross the veil could discover.
And I was ready to become its guardian.
