“Interlude: The Decision”

The light of day had nearly vanished.

The sun sank behind the water, leaving in the sky deep orange hues of despair, laced with the first signs of night’s blue. The shadows had grown longer, and a sense of anticipation filled the air — like something old, waiting to be revealed.

Lefteris and his sister walked silently on the sand. Their clothes still smelled of the sea.

They had returned.

They had survived.

They had changed.

The wooden cabin at the edge of the cliff stood as it always had — carved by time and salt. But this time, something was different. The light inside was on. And when they climbed the three steps and opened the door, they saw their parents seated at the small table. Waiting. Not surprised. As if they already knew.

Their mother turned her gaze to them and smiled — a bittersweet smile.

“You’re back,” she said simply.

They looked at each other. They knew this moment would not be easy. Lefteris’s sister took the first step.

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“We need to talk to you,” she said with a steady voice. “A lot has changed. We know it will be hard to believe, but—”

Their father raised his hand gently, interrupting her.

“We know,” he said.

The silence that followed was almost frightening. Lefteris couldn’t speak.

Their mother stood up. She approached slowly, almost with reverence, and touched their faces softly.

“Your grandfather, Lefteris… he never told you everything. He lived through things you can’t imagine…” she whispered.

Their father continued.

“We knew this day would come. The day you would be called to walk in the footsteps of your fate. You were never ordinary children. You’ve been bound to the sea for generations.”

His sister tried to hold back tears.

“But we want to do it. We need to go to Sicily. We have to learn what we are. We have to help.”

Their mother tilted her head slightly.

“We know we can’t stop you. And we don’t want to — not if this is the path your hearts have chosen. The only thing we can do is give you something… to protect you.”

She went to the old wooden chest by the fireplace and took out two small, handmade wooden crosses. Worn, bound with twine. She placed them around their necks.

“These crosses belonged to your grandfather,” their mother said, her eyes wet. “He carried them with him on every journey. No one ever knew where they came from, or why they were so important to him. Now… we understand.”

Their father stood and opened the door, looking out toward the horizon.

“You’ll leave when you feel ready. Not tomorrow. Give yourselves time. In a week, when the sea calls you again… then go. But remember something…” he said, without turning to look at them.

“Some currents have no return. But if your soul is clear… they’ll take you where you’re meant to go.”

Lefteris’s sister embraced their parents.

Lefteris stood for a while at the door, staring at the sea.

Inside him, a flame was awakening.

In one week, Sicily would be waiting — and everything they still had to discover.

But first… they needed time.

There was silence.

The kind of silence that comes just before a storm.