The chapter opens with Rodan's long shadow, observing his fallible men and making a decision that will change the course of events. The mountains of Valtellina become the backdrop for his silent departure, while the snow, wind, and milky sky envelop his determination. The frigid atmosphere intertwines with a past of clandestine excavations and forgotten conduits, hinting at a hidden system still pulsating within the rock.
Meanwhile, Marco, Giorgio, and Marina return to the Ravelli house, where the smell of damp stone and the darkness of the cellars seem to hold a secret that the mountain can no longer contain. A trembling compass, an underground hum, the inexplicable heat of the ground: small clues that transform the silence into a restless murmur.
It is a tense, slow search, where the characters' inner landscape merges with that of the mountain, and a growing sense of something vibrating beneath the truth not yet revealed.
Underground secrets, magnetic traces and a journey to Belgrade: when the truth beneath the Ravelli house begins to vibrate
Stories. The Enigma of the Abandoned House of Foppolo. Chapter 8.1: The Breath of the Mountain
Rodan watched them leave the Bar Millevette one by one, shoulders hunched inside their jackets, heads lowered like animals caught in guilt. He remained seated for another minute, motionless, his gaze fixed on the now-empty cup. The coffee was cold, but his thoughts boiled. Those four were a pack of amateurs—men who knew how to count money but not consequences. He had used them, yes, but their clumsiness now threatened to ruin a balance built on years of silence, digging, and well-paid complicities.
The house in Foppolo—that cursed house—was not just a ruin. Beneath its foundations ran air intakes and service ducts connected to the tunnels, built during the undeclared works of ’98, when no one questioned why certain trucks went up and down the mountain at night. An aeration point, a vital node. If anyone, even out of curiosity, discovered those passages or tried to seal them, the entire system could collapse.
Rodan the Serb stood up, left a banknote on the table without looking at it, and walked out.
The Tartano air slapped his face—clear and merciless. Snow fell slowly but steadily, and the wheels of his car carved two clean tracks into the road descending toward the valley. His step was that of someone who had already made his decision. Tomorrow the weather would change, and with the sun he could finally leave...
