Chapter 2 Under the bell tower and echoes

Chapter 2

Under the Bell Tower and echoes

Maria took a shallow breath as she leaned against the hard stone wall. The eerie silence of the tower had swallowed up the voice above. She strained her ears; there were no more voices or footsteps. Only the steady beat of her heart and the hiss of the wind blowing through the stone cracks. Below, another step was repeated. Her hoodie blended into the shadows as she ducked into a small nook. As if it could still shield her, she tightly encircled the crumpled letter in her pocket. Nobody to trust. There had been no mention of meeting two people in it. or being observed. The stomping stopped. "Maria?" The voice was lower, hesitant. The voice of a man. Closer. Familiar?

She remained silent. No, not yet. The figure, a tall, lean man with tangled dark hair and urgent eyes that were scanning the stairwell, came into view. He didn't look like the person who had just spoken. He appeared... anxious. He whispered, "It's me-Aaron." "At the library," Maria was shocked and blinked. Aaron? The graduate assistant who, during her late-night study sessions, always placed books on shelves? What was his role? He moved in closer. "You shouldn't be here right now. They are following." "Who are they?" As she emerged from the shadows, she hissed. But before he could respond, a metallic clang above, resembling the closing of a trapdoor, broke through the night. She was grabbed by Aaron. "There isn't time. We're done if they see us together. She retracted. "Do you know what's going on here? Which letter? The sound?" His eyes got darker. "I have sufficient knowledge to state that whatever you believe you are uncovering is greater than a threat. A system is it. And you are now a part of it." In the distance, a faint siren cried. Maria stared at Aaron's outstretched hand and the jagged stone steps. He might be a friend, or he might lie again. However, the letter was clear: Don't trust. Don't say. Don't put it off. So, why was she putting it off now? A faint creak coming from above. A powerful light beam from below. They were under attack. In addition, determining the truth was no longer a mystery. To survive, a war was waged. Every morning, Maria Costanzo was greeted by the aroma of aged parchment and ink. The Lost Chapter, her bookstore on Old Montagna Street's corner, had remained silent and obedient throughout the occupation. Maria was just a quiet, intelligent young woman who preferred books to people to the townspeople. Despite her raven-black hair's soft curls and scholarly elegance, this woman knew how to lie convincingly because her life was on the line. Maria had long since buried her hopes for a normal life at the age of twenty-eight. During the Night Sweep, a covert purge of suspected rebels, her parents and younger brother had vanished without a trace ten years earlier. Officially, their disappearance was deemed an accident. A fire. However, Maria never accepted it. She had quietly sorted through files that night, looked at strangers with eyes that were all too familiar, and asked questions with more caution than hope. She curated poetry and history during the day for clients who whispered tales of the past. She worked as a night courier for the underground resistance, smuggling encoded messages into classics that had been hollowed out and pages that had been sewn into bindings. Her haven and cover were her bookstore. She had no suspicions, not even Captain Elio Ferrante, whose blue uniform gave her chills and who came every other Wednesday to buy old war novels. Not only were Maria's secrets heavy, but so was her heart. It was entangled in illicit love. Her heart had already chosen Elio Ferrante, the occupier's golden son who was well-trained for power, disciplined, and charismatic. Their encounters were brief but intense: a book passed with trembling fingers, a comment about poetry that appeared to be a code for something deeper, a glance that lingered for too long. Maria detested herself for wanting him, wondering if he felt the same, and knowing that she would lose more than just her life if he ever discovered her secret. Traitors were not forgiven by the rebellion. Additionally, treason of the soul was worse than betrayal when one loved the enemy. Despite this, she continued to move because the eerie whispers of her past remained unanswered. The night of the disappearance never really came to a close. As she hid her brother in the attic, she could still hear his quiet whimper, tires screeching, and boots pounding. When she got back, there was no one in the attic. The street as well. There had been nothing left but the stench of fire and the icy clarity of guilt. Layers of silence concealed the truth someplace. Even if it meant destroying everything Maria had built, Maria had pledged to dig it out. The morning Maria found the letter, it was raining. A shipment of old books from a deceased estate had just been delivered to her. Until she noticed an odd volume, Il Canto del Traditore - The Song of the Traitor, the majority were dusty and forgettable. It struck a strange chord with the title. She hesitantly opened the spine with her fingers. A slip of yellowed paper that had been folded twice and sealed with the old Resistance's mark, a symbol that had not been used since before the Night Sweep, was tucked away between the pages. As she unfolded it, her hands shook. They remained alive. – S. The church bell tower conceals the truth. Only a first name. No date. Without context. However, Maria recognized the handwriting. In the margins of her father's annotated Bible, she had once seen it. She sat behind the counter with shallow breathing as her legs gave way. Could it be accurate? Has anyone, possibly her father, survived? Or was it a lie that someone wanted her to believe? Before concealing the letter once more within the spine, she read it ten times. She shut the bookstore early that evening as it was getting dark and walked the winding streets to the old cathedral square. Like a mute watchtower, the bell tower towered over the city. Since the Occupation turned the cathedral into a military archive, access had been denied for years. This indicated that the letter had been planted, according to her. It was a lure. a warning or a trap. She confronted Elio later that evening during one of his regular visits. When she mentioned the bell tower, there was a flicker of recognition in his eyes. Of course, he ducked. stated that he did not care about rumors. However, Maria had learned to read silence more effectively than words. She couldn't sleep that night. In the space of one cryptic message, she had expressed her love for Elio, her loyalty to the Resistance, and the ghost of her family's disappearance. It's possible that the truth is near. However, somebody was watching. A week went by. Maria pretended to go on, ringing up customers, cleaning shelves, and dropping off packages in a coded manner. However, nothing had changed. Before she could see it, she felt it. A shadow that seemed out of place. a man always across the street, wearing a gray hat. A cough that continued for an excessively long time after she made a turn. She wasn't suspicious. She was under surveillance. She discovered her front door slightly ajar one night while returning from a courier run. Nothing was missing from the inside. However, one book had been moved, Il Canto del Traditore. Just enough to indicate that it had been touched. With dread, Maria's heart thudded. Has she expressed her feelings for Elio to the Resistance? Was Elio aware of her role? Or was the entire operation orchestrated by someone else? She came face to face with Vera, her Resistance contact, who had always been clear but cold. Vera spoke straight up. Your bookshop is not secure. You have been hacked. Maria looked silently at her. "Erase the letter. Stop talking to Ferrante. Or we'll do so. The threat was unmistakable. It was the hard truth. Maria was now perched on a knife's edge. Both sides' foes had been reawakened by her search for the truth. Both the regime's and her own memories had been shattered by the letter. The following day, Elio returned without his uniform. He was carrying a poetry book. Maria was silent. She simply gave him a look. His hands slightly shook. He mumbled, "I know about the tower." The entire thing froze. Maria realized something in that instant: she wasn't the only one being split in two.