In Chapter 17, Elena's emotional tension reaches a new level, suspended between fear and determination. After witnessing scenes that challenge her perception of reality, the protagonist finds herself confronted with disturbing signals that transform the town's normality into a stage of invisible rules and silent gazes.
An encounter with a face from the past reopens unhealed wounds, raising the suspicion that this "parallel" world also harbors the ghosts of her professional experiences. At every step, Elena feels observed, recorded, trapped in a web of control that leaves no room for improvisation. Even her relationships with the locals suddenly shift, revealing a hidden order looming over everything.
The discovery of a seemingly trivial yet essential detail becomes her only lifeline, a fragile bridge to the reality from which she comes. But as the day of her meeting with Professor Valenti approaches, the line between courage and paranoia becomes increasingly blurred. The shadow of Palazzo Cotto, monumental and impenetrable, looms before her, both a promise and a threat, hinting that the long-awaited answers may cost her more than she imagines.
Between the memory of Mauro, the disturbing discovery of the mirrors and the wait for the meeting with Valenti, Elena faces the thin line between salvation and imprisonment
Stories . The Mysteries of Oltrecolle. Chapter 17: The Face of the Past and the Shadow of Palazzo Cotto
Elena remained stunned for long minutes on the hill, unable to move. Her breathing became shallow, as if the sight of the procession and the sudden violence had sucked her into a spiral of fear and helplessness. She had seen enough to understand that the "parallel world" wasn't just a mental construct or a consolatory escape, but a place where order merged with rituals of control and submission. Only when the wind began to nip her arms and the sun began to set behind the mountains did Elena find the strength to set out again.
She descended the hill without looking at the fields and sheds any longer, fearing that even one more detail could shatter the fragile balance she had left. Returning to the village was like emerging from a nightmare: life seemed to flow normally again, the crowds in the streets were thick, voices echoed without threat, the smell of freshly baked bread mingled with the sweet scent of the pastry shops.
She arrived at the bike shop in the late afternoon, her e-bike dirty with dust and leaves, her pants stained by the damp ground. The man was waiting for her in the doorway, his hands muddy, busy repairing an inner tube.
“Good evening, did you enjoy your ride?” he asked, quickly glancing at the bike, but without the warm smile he’d had in the morning.
Elena nodded, unable to show any enthusiasm. "Yes... the bike is perfect. Thanks again."
The cyclist took her bike without another word, but as Elena turned to leave, his voice stopped her. It was no longer warm and friendly, but sharp and authoritative, like a warning that brooked no reply...
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