The night after the trip to Agrigento, Belinda was restless. The locket was no longer a mystery, but an exclamation point on her family's thousand-year history. Her roots were anchored in the Doric columns of Magna Graecia, not just in volcanic soil. But the crucial clue was the note from her mother-in-law, Anna: "Il Faro. 1928."
The next morning, she gathered Elia and Samuele. Azzurra, oblivious to the historical treasure hunt, was busy building a castle of cushions.
"We must focus on that lighthouse," Belinda said, spreading an old nautical map of the eastern coast on the kitchen table. "If the family was wealthy and important, as Anna said, the lighthouse must be linked to a property, perhaps an old port warehouse or family land."
Samuele, ever pragmatic, took charge of the logistical search. "1928 is the key. Let's look up the old registers of active lighthouses in that year and cross-reference them with the land registry properties owned by your family before the war."
The search proved arduous, a battle against sluggish bureaucracy and dusty archives. "Il Faro," as a physical location, seemed nonexistent in the official records connected to Elia's family. After days of searching, Samuele found an old local newspaper article from 1930 that mentioned a decommissioned private lighthouse, situated on a rocky southern promontory known as the Punta dei Venti (Headland of the Winds). It had been demolished shortly after 1928 to make way for a noble villa, which had also since fallen into ruin.
"That's why it's gone!" Belinda exclaimed. "It's the Punta dei Venti! We must go there."
The promontory was a wild, wind-swept place, where Mediterranean scrub fought to survive on the bare rock. The villa was little more than a skeleton of tufa and brick, its windows black as blind eyes staring out at the sea. But the real attraction was the still-intact circular base where the lighthouse once stood.
While Elia held Azzurra's hand, Belinda walked away, feeling the energy of the place. The wind here was different; it carried distant whispers, not just salt. Upon reaching the lighthouse base, she noticed a series of blackened bricks. They were not signs of a fire, but seemed ritually scorched. Then, in a hidden niche beneath a prickly pear bush, she saw a small sign carved into the stone: a wheel inscribed in a circle, partially covered by moss.
Carefully, she cleaned the carving and pressed the locket against it. Nothing physical happened, but Belinda felt a tremor. Next to the wheel inscription, on a smoother stone wall, was a long list of words and dates, written with a pigment that time had nearly erased. It was a calendar, a list of festivities marked by the seasons.
Samuele reached her, studying the list. "It looks like some kind of agricultural calendar, or the dates of old village festivals."
Belinda shook her head. She felt it was much more. She pulled out her personal grimoire from her bag—a leather-bound notebook where she had long jotted down her insights on the "magic of resilience" and the stories of Sicily.
She immediately set about copying the list. "These aren't village festivals, Samuele. They are the Wheel of the Year Festivals. They are the days of the earth's power. Elia's family was not just important; they were custodians of ancient wisdom."
As the sun lowered over the sea, staining the cliff a warm red, Belinda copied the first half of the Wiccan calendar, realizing that both her lineage and Elia's had marked time by following the island's eternal cycle.
Belinda wrote the dates and names on the elegant paper of her grimoire:
Festival (Italian Name)DateSignificanceSamhainOctober 31st to November 1st.The beginning of the Wheel of the Year, the Celtic New Year. It marks the death of the Sun God and the start of the dark period, where the veil between the worlds (of the living and the spirits) is thinnest. It is the perfect time to honor ancestors and meditate on mortality and rebirth.Yule (Winter Solstice)Around December 21st.The darkest day of the year, but it signals the beginning of the Sun's rebirth. It is the moment the Goddess gives birth to the Sun God Child, a symbol of hope and returning light. It celebrates the eternity of life and the promise that darkness is never definitive.Imbolc (or Imbolg)February 1st or 2nd.The Feast of Growing Light and purification, associated with the Goddess Brigid. It is the first sign of spring: the awakening of the earth. Flowers are not yet visible, but the vital energy is beginning to stir. A time for starting new projects, and for spiritual and physical cleansing.Ostara (Spring Equinox)Around March 21st.The point of perfect balance between light and darkness (day and night have equal length). It marks the definitive rebirth of nature. The Goddess is clothed in fertility; the Sun God has grown. A festival of blossoming, balance, and potential, represented by the egg and the rabbit.
"These four festivals are like the seasons of the soul," Belinda whispered, closing the notebook.
"It's almost dinner time, Belinda. I still don't understand how this lighthouse graveyard is linked to the Greeks or my mother, but it's certainly fascinating," Elia interjected, with Azzurra asleep on his shoulder.
"It's linked to the Earth, Elia. This is where my roots and yours diverged: Carmelo's dignity and Giovanni's cruelty on one side, and Anna and your father's acumen and goodness on the other. The Lighthouse was a reference point not just for ships, but for the family. Someone wanted this wisdom not to be lost."
As they left the Punta dei Venti, Belinda knew that this calendar was not just a finding, but a mission. She had to decipher the other half of the Wheel and understand how it connected to her present.