Woven & Unwoven

7:13 p.m. CET — Administrative Council Grand Hall, Castello Resonare, Parco delle Cave, Baggio district

The tension in the air was palpable. The hallway echoed with the sharp tones of argument, bouncing off the marble floors and ancient columns. At the center of the confrontation stood Professor Vivian Giordano, her silver hair pulled back into a neat chignon, eyes sharp beneath her distinguished brows. Facing her was Professor Zayd Montemagnos, the head of the Performance Arts Department, a tall and athletic Italian Libyan man in his forties, his brow furrowed in frustration as his deep voice rang out.

"So, you decided to risk the life of one of my professors without even bothering to consult me first?" Zayd's arms were crossed, his voice cold and biting. "This is beyond reckless! Not only did you go behind my back to save a child who isn't even a student here, but you've gone so far as to use university resources to bring in someone who's relative is on the Sanctioned Registry. This isn't just about protecting our staff and students; it's about preserving the very foundation of resonance itself. The risks are astronomical.

Vivian met his stare, unblinking. "You're right, she's not a student—she's a matriculant."

Zayd scoffed, raising an eyebrow. "A matriculant? Really?"

Vivian shot back, a smirk tugging at her lips. "Chapter 8 of the university's governance manual says, 'Children of alumni who have proven resonance sensitivity and have received official acceptance letters are considered matriculants, entitled to the university's protection for the entire duration of their enrollment.'"

Zayd took a step forward, his eyes narrowing with determination. "The school has never, ever accepted a student with a direct relation to a sanctioned alumnus. Traditions keep us safe, Vivian. You can't just ignore that because you feel sorry for some child who's caught in the middle of something that isn't our responsibility."

The doors to the hall groaned open, and Fiorenzo Moretti, head of the Sonic Arts Department, strode in. His tall frame moved with quiet authority, his eyes taking in the scene as he approached the group. Known for his no-nonsense approach, Fiorenzo didn't waste a second.

"Traditions are vital," he said firmly. "But turning a blind eye to a resonance-sensitive child in need would be a direct betrayal of our mission here." He paused, letting his words hang in the air. "I'm with Vivian. The girl is technically a matriculant, and in academia, rules always take precedence over tradition."

Zayd let out a sharp, humorless laugh, shaking his head. His tone dripped with sarcasm as he addressed both Vivian and Fiorenzo. "Ah, yes, academia at its finest—where traditions are bent by the righteous and interpreted by the opportunistic. Truly, I'm comforted to know that decisions of such magnitude are left to the wisdom of the council."

Without waiting for a response, Zayd spun on his heel, his coat flaring dramatically as he strode toward the grand double doors at the end of the hall. The doors, carved from dark oak and stretching nearly to the ceiling, bore intricate engravings of the university's crest. They groaned as Zayd pushed them open, his tall figure disappearing into the chamber beyond.

Fiorenzo, watching him go, smirked and leaned slightly toward Vivian. "You know, for someone who insists on tradition, Zayd has mastered the art of a dramatic exit."

Vivian's lips quirked into a restrained smile, but her sharp eyes remained fixed on the now-closed doors. "He is the head of the Performance Arts Department after all."

Fiorenzo chuckled softly. "Touché." He gestured toward the towering doors with a slight bow. "After you, Professor Giordano."

Vivian inclined her head, the faintest hint of amusement in her expression. With a composed stride, she moved toward the doors and pushed them open. The warm light from the chamber beyond spilled into the hallway, catching the silver in her hair as she stepped through. Fiorenzo followed close behind, the doors whispering shut as the echoes of their footsteps faded from the grand hall.

7:34 p.m. CET — Parco delle Cave, Baggio district

A dark green Land Rover barreled down a dirt road, its sturdy frame rocking over dips and loose gravel. The headlights sliced through the growing dusk, casting long shadows that danced among the trees lining the narrow path. Dust swirled in the rearview like a trailing ghost, clinging to the fading light of the evening.

Ahead, the road began to widen, the dense line of trees pulling back to reveal a vast, empty field bathed in the muted glow of twilight. Francesca eased the car to a stop, the hum of the engine gave way to silence, broken only by Luca's resonant snores from the backseat. The field stretched endlessly, bordered by the towering silhouettes of trees, their tips swaying gently in the breeze.

In the passenger seat, Loconda stirred, blinking against the soft twilight that bled into the horizon. The sky was a masterpiece of molten orange and blood-red hues, a fading memory of the day as the sun barely clung to the edge of the world. Renata shifted slightly in her arms, her small face buried in Loconda's chest, breathing softly in sleep.

Loconda's attention was drawn to something strange—a ripple in the air above the field, subtle at first, like heat rising from asphalt. Then, the ripple grew, spreading outward, warping the air itself, until the outline of something massive began to take shape.

"What is that?" she murmured, more to herself than to anyone else.

The ripple grew, pulsing with a silent rhythm, until it took shape—a massive, trembling outline materializing in the field. Slowly, like ink spreading across a canvas, the invisible distortion resolved into the towering silhouette of a castle. Its dark spires pierced the sky, its stone walls reflecting a cold, ghostly sheen.

With a low groan, the iron gates of the castle creaked open, as though beckoning them inside.

"Welcome to Castello Resonare," Francesca said from the driver's seat, her tone calm but tinged with reverence. Without waiting for a response, she guided the Range Rover forward, the vehicle rolling smoothly past the gates and into the castle grounds.

Loconda could barely tear her eyes away as the castle's details became clearer: intricate carvings on the stone walls, gargoyle-like figures perched on the edges of its parapets, and glowing orbs of light floating near the arched windows like sentinels.

As the car came to a stop in the cobblestone courtyard, the air seemed to hum with energy, an almost imperceptible vibration that Loconda could feel in her chest. Francesca stepped out of the car, the sound of her boots echoing in the stillness.

Luca groaned from the backseat, lifting his head groggily. "Are we... here?" he asked, his voice thick with sleep.

"Yes," Francesca replied, glancing back at him. "And I suggest you wake up fully. This isn't the kind of place you stumble into half-conscious."

Loconda hesitated, still clutching Renata as she stepped out of the car. The castle loomed above her, its presence overwhelming. She could feel something more than just its size—a resonance that seemed to press against her senses, both thrilling and unnerving.

"What is this place?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Francesca's lips curved into a faint, enigmatic smile. "This, my dear, is the hidden campus of the Academy of Advanced Arts. And this entrance is designated as the women's entrance. Professor Venturi will have to use the other side."

She tossed Luca the car keys, and he fumbled briefly before catching them and heading toward the driver's side.

"It was a pleasure meeting you, Mrs. Toussaint," Luca said, half of his body hanging out of the door as he smiled. "I teach in the Performance Arts Department, so I'm sure we'll cross paths again if you decide to enroll."

"I'll call you," Francesca replied. Luca nodded, backed the car out, and disappeared down the dirt road.

"Why are women only allowed to enter through here?" Loconda asked.

Francesca's gaze softened. "This entrance leads to the women's dormitories," she said simply. "I'm sure you can imagine why such a restriction exists."

"Of course," Loconda blushed.

"Now, Mrs. Toussaint," Francesca continued, her voice shifting with authority, "from here on out, you'll address me as Alta Professore Bellavita. I'm part of the Intellectual Design Department, where we blend the art of fashion with architectural mastery. I've been informed that you received an acceptance offer directly from Gran Professore Giordano, our department head. Should you choose to accept, you'll major in Intelligent Design. Understood?"

"Yes, ma'am," Loconda replied.

"Good," Prof. Bellavita said, her brows knitting even tighter. "Before we go any further, I need to ask you something. But first, let me acknowledge what you've been through—today has been strange, unsettling, even traumatic. I understand if you're still trying to process everything that's happened. The entrance ahead leads directly to the Administrative Hall where the enrollment office is located. Enrolling you is the first step to ensuring you have the protection and support you'll need moving forward. Now, I realize this might feel rushed, but the circumstances leave us little choice. So that's why I have to ask you plainly—are you ready to enroll?"

Loconda didn't hesitate. "Yes. Absolutely."

"Are you sure?" Prof. Bellavita pressed, her tone carrying a hint of skepticism.

"A hundred percent," Loconda said, her voice steady but fierce. "Today was terrifying—my life felt like it was hanging by a thread—but it was also exhilarating. Mind-blowing. And to be honest, I came here with one purpose: to study fashion. I was already planning to enroll."

"I find it curious," Prof. Bellavita replied, her voice cool but probing, "that you'd seek out your aunt before coming to us. Are you certain you're not here for her?"

Loconda's face eased. "I won't lie—seeing my aunt was a part of why I came. But it wasn't the reason. My father refused to let me study fashion. He tried to control my life, so I had to lie and deceive him just to hold on to my dream. And just when I thought all hope was lost, Mrs. Giordano showed up and gave me a second chance. So no, I'm not here for my aunt. I'm here for me. To develop my art. This is my path."

Prof. Bellavita studied her for a moment, the silence stretching between them. "Good. Because as we speak, the university's Administrative Council is deliberating on whether to accept your enrollment, given your connection to Acadia. I'm not sure how much Luca told you about your aunt's current situation but admitting you as a student may bring future complications—incidents like today could repeat themselves."

Before Loconda could ask any more questions, the castle doors swung open, spilling golden light onto the courtyard.

Prof. Bellavita turned sharply on her heel. "Come along, Mrs. Toussaint," she said briskly, her voice carrying the weight of authority. Without waiting for a reply, she strode across the cobblestone courtyard toward the castle entrance.

Loconda followed, clutching Renata tightly against her chest. The courtyard stretched wide before her; a grand expanse paved with smooth stone. Around its perimeter, spaces were marked for vehicles, though most remained empty except for a sleek black sedan parked to the side. The last blush of sunlight had nearly vanished, and one by one, ornate lamp posts flickered to life. Their golden glow bathed the lot, casting long shadows from the meticulously trimmed bushes that surrounded a central fountain.

The fountain itself was a marvel—water cascaded in intricate, tiered patterns, its spray catching the light and shimmering like tiny jewels. The gentle sound of splashing water softened the courtyard's grandeur, lending it an almost magical serenity.

Ahead, the entrance loomed. The door was a towering masterpiece of craftsmanship, carved from dark, polished wood and inlaid with swirling designs that shimmered faintly as though they held a magic of their own. Heavy iron handles adorned it, their edges engraved with symbols Loconda couldn't decipher.

Standing guard were a group of women in sleek, lightweight tactical gear, their postures disciplined and alert. They moved with an air of quiet authority, their eyes scanning the area with precision. One of the guards stepped forward as Prof. Bellavita approached, her hand resting lightly on the hilt of a blade sheathed at her side.

Prof. Bellavita produced her identification with a flourish, holding it up for inspection. The guard examined it, then gave a curt nod. "Welcome back, Alta Professore," she said, stepping aside. The other guards followed suit, allowing the two women to pass through the checkpoint.

Loconda swallowed hard as she stepped past the threshold, feeling the weight of the guards' gazes on her back.

7:53 p.m. CET — Women's Hall, Castle Resonare of the University of Advanced Arts, Baggio district

Inside, the castle's grandeur deepened. The hallway stretched wide and long; its high vaulted ceiling adorned with intricate frescoes depicting celestial scenes. Warm light from golden sconces cast a soft glow over the polished stone floor, reflecting the gentle hum of life within the walls.

Students filled the space, moving in small clusters or darting down side halls. Some were dressed sharply, their attire suggesting they were on their way to class—tailored blazers, flowing skirts, and crisp slacks. Others lounged in pajama sets, their expressions sleepy but cheerful. A few sported workout gears, their faces flushed from exertion, gym bags slung casually over their shoulders.

As Loconda and Prof. Bellavita moved through the hall, heads began to turn. Murmurs spread like wildfire, the students' whispers barely audible over the sound of footsteps. Loconda caught fragments: "Who's that?" "Is that her?" "I heard she's related to Gran Professor…"

Her cheeks flushed under the weight of their stares. To distract herself, she focused on Prof. Bellavita's back, her eyes tracing the professor's outfit. Bellavita's ensemble was a perfect blend of style and functionality: a tailored, deep emerald coat cinched at the waist, paired with sleek black trousers and ankle boots that clicked softly against the floor. Her hair was swept into a sophisticated twist, and a faint scent of cedarwood and citrus lingered in her wake.

Prof. Bellavita spoke as they walked, her voice cutting through the whispers. "That hall," she said, gesturing to a passage on their right, "leads to the dormitories, often referred to as the Women's quarters." Then pointing to her left, "And that hall connects to the gym and private study rooms."

Loconda nodded, trying to take it all in.

At the end of the woman's hall, a grand door stood open, its carved surface depicting scenes of female students engaged in various arts. They passed through the doorway, leaving the ornate chamber behind.

Beyond the door stretched a long, narrow hallway, a stark contrast to the space they had just exited. Its walls gleamed with subtle golden veins that seemed to pulse faintly, alive with an almost rhythmic energy. The muted hum of machinery filled the space, emanating from four horizontal conveyor systems that bisected the hallway. The movement was hypnotic—each conveyor gliding smoothly in opposite directions, their sleek surfaces shimmering faintly under the warm glow of recessed lighting.

Prof. Bellavita stepped onto the outermost walkway, her emerald coat swishing elegantly, and gestured for Loconda to follow.

"The right walkways lead away from the Women's Hall; the left ones head toward it," she explained briskly. "This outer walkway moves faster, ideal for those in a hurry—or simply confident in their balance."

Loconda hesitated but stepped onto the walkway beside her, clutching Renata securely. Her breath hitched as the walkway accelerated beneath her feet, propelling them forward with unexpected speed. The motion was seamless, yet unnervingly fast, and Loconda found herself gripping the edge of the moving rail for support.

"You'll get used to it," Bellavita remarked without looking back, her voice laced with a trace of amusement. "In fact, you'll come to appreciate the efficiency."

Loconda adjusted her footing, her eyes darting to the walls as they blurred by. The speed was exhilarating, almost as if the castle itself was alive and ushering them forward. Within seconds, the hallway opened into a wider space, and the walkway gently slowed before coming to a smooth stop.

The two women stepped off in unison, Loconda's boots clicking against the polished stone floor. Ahead of them stood a second checkpoint—a row of guards clad in sleek, black tactical uniforms. Unlike the previous guards, these faced away from the approaching traffic, their attention focused on the students heading toward the Women's Hall. Their presence was commanding, though they seemed uninterested in those moving in the opposite direction.

Prof. Bellavita passed through the checkpoint with practiced ease, nodding briefly to a guard. Loconda followed, holding Renata, who stirred faintly in her sleep. The routine flow faltered as Renata's sleek fur bristled, her golden eyes snapping open and glowing softly. At first disoriented, the cat's gaze swept the room before locking onto a student lingering nearby.

The girl was tall and willowy, her sharp yet strikingly beautiful features framed by a cascade of raven-black hair, and though her immaculate uniform—a crisp white blouse tucked into a pleated black skirt—was pristine, an undeniable edge lingered in her presence, shadowed by a faint, perceptible darkness.

Renata let out a deep hiss, drawing the attention of nearby students and guards. Before Loconda could react, the cat squirmed free, scratching her forearm before landing gracefully on the polished floor. Arching her back and puffing her tail, Renata planted herself defensively between Loconda and the student, her eyes narrowed into furious slits..

"Control your familiar!" one of the guards yelled, her hand instinctively moving toward the hilt of a baton.

"Familiar?" Loconda stammered, crouching down and extending her hands toward Renata.

Before she could attempt to calm the cat, the student in question stepped forward, her movements unhurried and calm. Her dark eyes sparkled with amusement, though the aura around her didn't waver. She knelt gracefully, her gaze meeting Renata's unflinchingly.

"There's no need for all this fuss, Renata," the girl said, her voice carrying a soft French accent. A faint smile played on her lips as she regarded the hissing cat.

Renata froze, her hissing faltering into a confused growl. The girl extended her hand, palm up, moving with deliberate slowness. Loconda opened her mouth to protest, but before she could, the girl's hand darted forward with astonishing speed, patting Renata on the head with a light, deliberate touch. Renata lashed out, attempting to bite, but the girl's reflexes were too sharp. Her hand retracted, unscathed, only to return with another confident pat.

"There, there," the girl murmured, her voice laced with something both soothing and unsettling.

Loconda finally managed to scoop Renata up, the cat's body stiff with tension but no longer struggling. She cradled Renata close, feeling the vibrations of her low growl.

The student stood, brushing her skirt. Her gaze shifted to Loconda, and her smile disappeared.

"How do you know this cat's name?" Loconda asked, clutching Renata tighter.

"I'm sure we'll meet again soon," she replied, her voice dropping to a near whisper. "Au revoir."

With that, she turned and disappeared into the crowd without a backward glance. Loconda stood frozen for a moment, her heart pounding and arms full of a still-bristling Renata.

Prof. Bellavita's voice cut through Loconda's daze, sharp and urgent. "Keep moving, Mrs. Toussaint. We're already behind schedule."

Loconda glanced up to see the professor disappearing into the crowd and quickened her pace, hurrying to catch up.

Beyond the checkpoint, the space opened into a massive atrium that stole Loconda's breath. The ceiling soared impossibly high, a latticework of glass and steel that revealed the deep indigo of the evening sky. A massive chandelier floated weightlessly in the center, its crystalline tendrils radiating light in soft, mesmerizing patterns .Conversations echoed off the walls, mingling with the gentle hum of glowing orbs that hovered above, casting a warm, ambient glow.

The floor below was a vast mosaic, its intricate designs shifting subtly as if reacting to the footsteps of those who crossed it. Students bustled through the atrium, their movements filling the space with life and purpose. For the first time, Loconda noticed male students and faculty mingling in the space, their presence adding a new dynamic to the academy's life.

"This," Prof. Bellavita said, her voice carrying a note of pride, "is the West Nexus Atrium, the heart of the university. From here, you can access nearly every corner of the campus. It's designed not only for function but for inspiration. Every detail you see is a testament to what we teach here: the harmony of art and resonance."

"It's incredible," Loconda murmured, her voice barely audible over the hum of activity.

"It truly is," Professor Bellavita replied, gesturing toward a grand staircase at the far end of the atrium. Its steps flanked by sculptures of mythical creatures, their stone forms so lifelike they seemed ready to leap into motion.

Loconda followed her up the staircase, their footsteps fading as they entered a vast corridor beyond.