Beyond death

She’s back

Enzo POV

Today marks Alba’s return to Bracciano, a tradition as dependable as the Summer Solstice itself. As the son of our coven’s leader, I know the rhythms of this village’s mystical calendar all too well. Alba’s arrival, always just before the Solstice festivities, is an event I’ve come to anticipate with a mix of joy and trepidation. Her presence is like a rare comet—beautiful, fleeting, and entirely unaware of the gravity she carries.

Bracciano, with its lake shimmering like a mirror of the heavens, is steeped in legends older than its cobblestone streets. The Benevento witches, Alba’s paternal lineage, are whispered about with reverence and caution. Their name is etched into the fabric of Italian magical history, tied to rituals, prophecies, and powers that could shift the balance of the arcane world. Alba, blissfully ignorant, carries this heritage in her veins.

She is also my soul mate.

I’ve known this for years—since before it was appropriate to even think of her in such a way. When I first realized it, she was still a child, and the weight of that knowledge felt unbearable. I confided only in Ale, her uncle and my closest friend. He helped me carry the burden, assured me that time would make the truth easier to bear. This year, the timing feels right. Alba is no longer a child, and I no longer feel like the secret is an injustice to her.

Yet, there is a shadow that dims the light of her arrival: the curse that haunts Bracciano. Each Solstice, our departed loved ones return in corporeal form, granted a temporary reprieve from the otherworld. Alba’s mother, taken from her when she was just a child, is among them. The villagers celebrate their return with joy, but I know the truth. This isn’t a miracle; it’s a punishment.

The curse began decades ago, forged by my grandfather in a moment of reckless ambition. Seduced by the promises of Lucifer himself, he sought power and eternal life but instead bound our village to this cruel cycle. The spirits of the departed are tethered to Lake Bracciano, their fleeting return a mere illusion of peace. When the Solstice ends, they vanish, trapped in torment, unable to move on to Luna’s celestial realm.

As the coven’s only dual-affinity witch—gifted in both water and spirit magic—I’ve spent years unraveling the layers of this curse. Lake Bracciano, once a sacred portal between worlds, now serves as a prison. Its waters are imbued with corrupted magic, twisted by my grandfather’s dark pact. What was once a conduit for spirits to communicate with the living has become a snare, binding them in eternal liminality.

Ale and I have tried everything to break the curse. Every ritual, every spell, every appeal to the gods and spirits. This year, our desperation has led us to Primolo, a remote site of ancient power. Nestled deep in the woods, it is said to be a crossroads between the mortal realm and the supernatural. Legends speak of witches who convened there, seated at a weathered stone table surrounded by four chairs, to commune with Lucifer himself. The energy there is dark, dangerous, and possibly our last hope.

My father, the coven leader, pretends to guide us toward salvation. In truth, his secret alliances with dark witches across Italy only deepen the curse’s hold. He hides his dealings under the guise of diplomatic meetings, but I know better. I’ve kept this knowledge from everyone except Ale. Revealing it prematurely could jeopardize our efforts. Timing is everything.

As I linger outside the coven’s gathering hall, anticipation hums in the air. Alba’s return is like a spark of hope amidst the gloom. Ale’s familiar laugh rings out from nearby, breaking my thoughts.

“She’s here, isn’t she?” he asks, his grin as infectious as ever.

I nod, a rare smile tugging at my lips. “Let’s go meet her.”

Alba POV

The carriage rumbles to a stop, and I glance out at the familiar sight of our summer home in Bracciano. The grove of apricot and cherry trees flanks the path, their branches laden with fruit. The air carries the fragrance of lemon and mandarin blossoms, mingling with the earthy aroma of sun-warmed stone. Even before stepping out, the landscape fills me with the feeling of coming home.

As I descend, I spot Zio Alessandro striding up the path, his gait casual but purposeful. Beside him is Enzo, his best friend and, if I’m honest, the person who’s occupied far too many of my daydreams. My heart flutters—he’s taller than I remember, with the same intense gaze that always leaves me flustered.

“Zio!” I call, running toward him with a grin.

“Kiddo!” he laughs, catching me in a warm embrace. “Long time no see. You’ve grown!”

“Not that much,” I tease, though his affection makes me feel lighter. His blue eyes twinkle as he ruffles my hair, an old habit that annoys me less than I let on.

“Ciao, Alba,” Enzo greets, his voice rich and smooth. There’s a warmth in his eyes as he smiles, and for a moment, I forget how to breathe.

“Ciao, Enzo,” I manage, mustering a casual tone. The customary air kisses follow, but his presence seems to linger longer than usual.

“Bracciano’s been too quiet without you,” he says.

Inside the house, the comforting smell of coffee drifts through the air. Papà is by the hearth, tending to a pot that fills the room with rich, familiar warmth. I hesitate before speaking.

“Papà, Enzo asked if I could join him for dinner tonight,” I say, keeping my tone casual. “Is that alright?”

Papà glances up, his brow lifting in surprise before a faint smile softens his features. “Taking my daughter out on a date?” he asks, his voice teasing but kind.

Enzo nods, his posture respectful. “If it pleases you, Francesco.”

Papà considers him for a moment before nodding. “Be back before the bell tolls for midnight. We have much to prepare tomorrow.”

“Grazie, Papà!” I exclaim, wrapping him in a quick hug.

Watching Enzo leave, a strange mix of excitement and hope fills me. This summer feels different, like the beginning of something new. With the Solstice near and Mamma’s spirit returning, perhaps it’s a sign that Bracciano is where I’m meant to be—always.