Inseguendo i sogni a Roseland

Chapter One

The body lay in perfect repose on the Victorian fainting couch, looking more like a sleeping beauty than a victim. Detective Sarah Chen had seen enough death in her ten years with the Metropolitan Police's Special Cases Unit to know that natural death never looked this peaceful. Something was very, very wrong.

        'No signs of struggle, no marks on the body, and yet...' She leaned closer, studying the victim's face. Charlotte Mills, aged 28, was found by her roommate this morning, apparently having passed away in her sleep. Her expression was serene, almost blissful, but her eyes - those were what caught Sarah's attention. Behind the closed lids, her eyes were moving rapidly, as if still deep in REM sleep.

        "You see it too, don't you?" The voice came from behind her, rich and cultured with a slight Irish lilt. "She's still dreaming."

        Sarah turned to find a tall man in an impeccably tailored charcoal suit standing in the doorway. He hadn't been there a moment ago, she was certain of it. His dark hair was streaked with silver at the temples, and his eyes were an unusual shade of amber that seemed to shift color in the light.

        "This is a closed crime scene," she said firmly, her hand instinctively moving toward her weapon. "How did you get in here?"

        He smiled, but it didn't reach those strange eyes. "Dr. Marcus Thorne," he said, pulling out a card that somehow both looked official and seemed to shimmer slightly. "I'm a consulting specialist with the Department's new Oneiric Phenomena Division."

        "The what division?" Sarah frowned, taking the card. The moment her fingers touched it, she felt a slight electric tingle, and the letters seemed to rearrange themselves before her eyes.

        "Dreams, Detective Chen. We investigate crimes involving dreams." He moved into the room with fluid grace, his attention fixed on the victim. "And this is the third one this month."

        Sarah's mind raced. There had been two other deaths recently - both young women, both found peacefully dead in their sleep. She'd seen the reports but hadn't made the connection until now. "How do you know about those cases?"

        "Because I've been tracking the killer for quite some time." Thorne knelt beside the body, his eyes now definitely more gold than amber. "He's what we call a Dream Collector - someone who has learned to enter and steal dreams. But this one has developed a taste for more than just dreams. He's taking souls."

        Under normal circumstances, Sarah would have dismissed such talk as nonsense. But there was something about the scene, about the victim's still-moving eyes, about Thorne himself, that made the impossible seem suddenly plausible.

        "If you're tracking him," she said carefully, "why haven't you caught him?"

        Thorne's expression darkened. "Because he only appears in dreams. The physical world is my domain, but his... his is the realm of sleep. To catch him, we need someone who can walk between both worlds." He turned those unsettling eyes on her. "Someone like you."

        "Me?" Sarah almost laughed, but the sound died in her throat as memories she'd long suppressed began to surface. The dreams that felt too real, the nights she'd awakened to find objects moved in her room, the way she sometimes knew things she couldn't possibly know...

        "You've always known you were different, haven't you, Detective?" Thorne's voice was gentle now. "The dreams that come true, the hunches that turn out to be right, the way you can sometimes see how people died just by touching objects they owned..."

        Sarah took an involuntary step back. "How do you know about that?"

        "Because I've been looking for someone like you. A Natural - someone born with the ability to cross the threshold between waking and dreaming." He gestured to the victim. "Charlotte here won't be his last. There will be others, and their souls will remain trapped in an eternal dream unless we stop him."

        Just then, the victim's hand twitched, her fingers moving as if writing something. Sarah moved closer, watching as invisible words were traced in the air. Thorne pulled out what looked like an antique monocle and held it up. Through its lens, golden letters shimmered in the air where Charlotte's fingers moved.

        "Help me," Thorne read aloud. "He's coming for the others."

        Sarah felt a chill run down her spine. She looked at the victim's peaceful face, at those restlessly moving eyes, and made a decision that would change her life forever.

        "Tell me what I need to do."

        Thorne's smile was grim. "First, you need to learn to control your abilities. Then..." he held up the monocle, through which Sarah could now see strange symbols glowing all around the room, "you need to learn to hunt in dreams."

        Outside the Victorian townhouse, storm clouds gathered, and Sarah Chen, homicide detective and newly discovered dream walker, took her first step into a world where nightmares were real, and death was just another kind of sleep.

Chapter Two

The basement of the Natural History Museum was the last place Sarah expected to find the headquarters of a secret dream investigation unit. Yet here she was, following Thorne through a maze of storage rooms filled with artifacts that seemed to pulse with their own inner light.

        "The mundane world only sees what it expects to see," Thorne explained, using an ornate key to unlock a heavy wooden door marked 'Private Collection.' "To them, this is just museum storage. To us, it's the largest collection of dream artifacts in the Western Hemisphere."

        The room beyond defied physics. It stretched impossibly far, filled with glass cases containing everything from ancient masks to modern-looking devices. Floating orbs of soft light illuminated collections of bottled dreams - actual dreams, swirling like liquid mercury behind glass.

        "Your badge, Detective," Thorne held out his hand. Sarah hesitated before handing over her police credentials. He placed it on a strange device that looked like a Victorian music box crossed with a computer. When he returned the badge, it felt different - heavier, somehow more real.

        "Now you'll be able to access both worlds officially," he said. "Look at it again."

        The badge had changed. Alongside her regular police credentials, new text had appeared: 'Special Inspector, Oneiric Investigations Division.' The letters seemed to shift between English and something older, something that made her eyes water if she looked too long.

        "Before we can hunt the Dream Collector, you need to understand what you're dealing with." Thorne led her to a case containing what looked like a normal pillow. "Touch it."

        Sarah reached out hesitantly. The moment her fingers made contact, the world tilted. She was suddenly standing in someone else's dream - a sunny beach, but the sky was green and the sand whispered secrets. She jerked her hand back, gasping.

        "Good," Thorne nodded approvingly. "Most people can't pull back from their first dream artifact. You have natural barriers."

        "What was that?" Sarah's heart was racing.

        "A dream fragment from 1892. A young girl's last dream before the influenza took her." His voice softened. "We preserve them here. Dreams carry memories, emotions, sometimes even pieces of souls."

        "And this Dream Collector... he takes entire souls?" Sarah remembered Charlotte Mills' peaceful face and restless eyes.

        "He traps them in eternal dreams, feeding off their essence." Thorne moved to another case, this one containing what looked like a cracked mirror. "Each victim becomes part of his collection, their souls powering his abilities, letting him dreamwalk without natural talent like yours."

        Suddenly, the cracked mirror began to frost over. In its surface, Sarah saw Charlotte Mills' face, mouth open in a silent scream. Then another face appeared - another victim, she presumed - and another.

        "He's showing off," Thorne growled. "He knows we're investigating."

        The temperature in the room dropped dramatically. Frost patterns spread from the mirror to nearby cases, and Sarah heard what sounded like distant laughter.

        "Well, well," a voice echoed through the room, seemingly coming from everywhere and nowhere. "A new player in the game. And such interesting dreams you have, Detective Chen."

        Sarah felt something brush against her mind, like cold fingers trying to pry open a door. Instinctively, she slammed her mental barriers shut. The presence withdrew, but not before leaving behind an impression of amusement.

        "He's already caught your scent," Thorne said grimly. He pulled out a small velvet bag and removed what looked like a dreamcatcher made of silver wire and black pearls. "Wear this when you sleep. It won't keep him out entirely, but it'll stop him from stealing your dreams while you're still learning to defend yourself."

        As Sarah took the dreamcatcher, her fingers brushed Thorne's, and suddenly she was hit with a flash of his dreams - centuries of memories, battles fought in realms of sleep, and a profound sense of loss that made her gasp.

        Thorne withdrew his hand quickly. "Your abilities are stronger than I thought. We'll need to work on your control."

        "What are you?" Sarah asked directly. "You're not just some government consultant, are you?"

        Before he could answer, an alarm began to sound throughout the facility. One of the dream bottles had turned black, its contents writhing like smoke.

        "He's hunting again," Thorne said, already moving toward the exit. "Someone in the city has just entered their last dream. Are you ready for your first real case, Detective?"

        Sarah touched her new badge, feeling its power hum under her fingers. "Do we have time to save them?"

        "If we're lucky, we might catch him in the act. But remember - in dreams, he's incredibly powerful. One wrong move and you could lose your soul."

        As they rushed from the dream archive, Sarah caught one last glimpse of the cracked mirror. In its surface, she saw her own reflection smile back at her with eyes that weren't quite her own.

        The hunt was about to begin.

Chapter Two

The basement of the Natural History Museum was the last place Sarah expected to find the headquarters of a secret dream investigation unit. Yet here she was, following Thorne through a maze of storage rooms filled with artifacts that seemed to pulse with their own inner light.

        "The mundane world only sees what it expects to see," Thorne explained, using an ornate key to unlock a heavy wooden door marked 'Private Collection.' "To them, this is just museum storage. To us, it's the largest collection of dream artifacts in the Western Hemisphere."

        The room beyond defied physics. It stretched impossibly far, filled with glass cases containing everything from ancient masks to modern-looking devices. Floating orbs of soft light illuminated collections of bottled dreams - actual dreams, swirling like liquid mercury behind glass.

        "Your badge, Detective," Thorne held out his hand. Sarah hesitated before handing over her police credentials. He placed it on a strange device that looked like a Victorian music box crossed with a computer. When he returned the badge, it felt different - heavier, somehow more real.

        "Now you'll be able to access both worlds officially," he said. "Look at it again."

        The badge had changed. Alongside her regular police credentials, new text had appeared: 'Special Inspector, Oneiric Investigations Division.' The letters seemed to shift between English and something older, something that made her eyes water if she looked too long.

        "Before we can hunt the Dream Collector, you need to understand what you're dealing with." Thorne led her to a case containing what looked like a normal pillow. "Touch it."

        Sarah reached out hesitantly. The moment her fingers made contact, the world tilted. She was suddenly standing in someone else's dream - a sunny beach, but the sky was green and the sand whispered secrets. She jerked her hand back, gasping.

        "Good," Thorne nodded approvingly. "Most people can't pull back from their first dream artifact. You have natural barriers."

        "What was that?" Sarah's heart was racing.

        "A dream fragment from 1892. A young girl's last dream before the influenza took her." His voice softened. "We preserve them here. Dreams carry memories, emotions, sometimes even pieces of souls."

        "And this Dream Collector... he takes entire souls?" Sarah remembered Charlotte Mills' peaceful face and restless eyes.

        "He traps them in eternal dreams, feeding off their essence." Thorne moved to another case, this one containing what looked like a cracked mirror. "Each victim becomes part of his collection, their souls powering his abilities, letting him dreamwalk without natural talent like yours."

        Suddenly, the cracked mirror began to frost over. In its surface, Sarah saw Charlotte Mills' face, mouth open in a silent scream. Then another face appeared - another victim, she presumed - and another.

        "He's showing off," Thorne growled. "He knows we're investigating."

        The temperature in the room dropped dramatically. Frost patterns spread from the mirror to nearby cases, and Sarah heard what sounded like distant laughter.

        "Well, well," a voice echoed through the room, seemingly coming from everywhere and nowhere. "A new player in the game. And such interesting dreams you have, Detective Chen."

        Sarah felt something brush against her mind, like cold fingers trying to pry open a door. Instinctively, she slammed her mental barriers shut. The presence withdrew, but not before leaving behind an impression of amusement.

        "He's already caught your scent," Thorne said grimly. He pulled out a small velvet bag and removed what looked like a dreamcatcher made of silver wire and black pearls. "Wear this when you sleep. It won't keep him out entirely, but it'll stop him from stealing your dreams while you're still learning to defend yourself."

        As Sarah took the dreamcatcher, her fingers brushed Thorne's, and suddenly she was hit with a flash of his dreams - centuries of memories, battles fought in realms of sleep, and a profound sense of loss that made her gasp.

        Thorne withdrew his hand quickly. "Your abilities are stronger than I thought. We'll need to work on your control."

        "What are you?" Sarah asked directly. "You're not just some government consultant, are you?"

        Before he could answer, an alarm began to sound throughout the facility. One of the dream bottles had turned black, its contents writhing like smoke.

        "He's hunting again," Thorne said, already moving toward the exit. "Someone in the city has just entered their last dream. Are you ready for your first real case, Detective?"

        Sarah touched her new badge, feeling its power hum under her fingers. "Do we have time to save them?"

        "If we're lucky, we might catch him in the act. But remember - in dreams, he's incredibly powerful. One wrong move and you could lose your soul."

        As they rushed from the dream archive, Sarah caught one last glimpse of the cracked mirror. In its surface, she saw her own reflection smile back at her with eyes that weren't quite her own.

        The hunt was about to begin.

Chapter Three

They arrived at St. Bartholomew's Hospital just as the emergency lights began to flash. Sarah followed Thorne through corridors that seemed to blur at the edges of her vision, her new badge somehow clearing their path without ever being shown.

        "Room 307," Thorne said, his voice tight with urgency. "Young male, admitted for minor surgery, slipped into an unusual coma during recovery."

        The patient, David Parker, age 23, lay perfectly still on his hospital bed, his eyes moving rapidly beneath closed lids. Just like Charlotte Mills. But this time, something was different - the air around him rippled like heat waves over hot asphalt.

        "He's still in the process of taking him," Thorne said, pulling out what looked like an antique pocket watch. "We can follow if we're quick. Are you ready for your first dream dive?"

        Sarah's heart pounded. "What do I need to do?"

        "Take my hand. Focus on the patient. Let your consciousness slip between the moments of reality." Thorne's eyes began to glow that strange amber color. "And whatever you see in there, remember - dream logic is real logic in that world."

        Sarah grasped Thorne's hand and looked at David Parker. The world tilted, twisted, and suddenly...

        They were standing in a hospital corridor that wasn't quite right. The walls breathed slowly, the floor was made of flowing water that somehow supported their weight, and the ceiling was a swirling mass of constellation maps.

        "His dreamscape," Thorne explained, his voice echoing strangely. "Every dreamer creates their own reality. Look."

        Down the impossible corridor, a figure in a doctor's coat was leading David Parker by the hand. But the 'doctor' was wrong - his shadow moved independently, reaching out with grasping tendrils towards other dreams that floated past like soap bubbles.

        "The Dream Collector," Sarah whispered.

        As if hearing his name, the figure turned. Sarah's breath caught. His face was a beautiful mask of shifting features, never settling on one form, but his eyes... his eyes were endless pits of swirling dreams.

        "Ah, the new dreamer," his voice was like silk over broken glass. "And my old friend Marcus. Still trying to police the dream worlds?"

        Thorne stepped forward, and Sarah noticed his appearance had changed in the dream. His suit was now made of living shadows, and wings of dark light stretched from his shoulders. "Let him go, Collector. You've taken enough souls."

        The Collector laughed, the sound causing the hospital walls to crack, leaking golden dream-light. "Taken? Oh, Marcus, you still don't understand. They give themselves to me. Show her, David."

        The young man turned, and Sarah saw his eyes were glassy with bliss. "It's beautiful here," he said dreamily. "All my pain is gone. All my fears. He takes them all away."

        "By taking everything you are," Sarah found herself saying. She took a step forward, instinctively reaching for her police badge. In the dream, it transformed into a shield of pure light. "David, this isn't real healing. It's theft."

        The Collector's face rippled with anger. "You dare interrupt my collection?" The corridor began to twist, reality bending around them. "Let me show you what happens to those who interfere with my work."

        Suddenly, the floor beneath Sarah liquefied completely. She started to sink, but instead of water, she was drowning in dreams - thousands of them, each containing a fragment of someone's stolen soul. She saw Charlotte Mills dancing endlessly in a ballroom of mirrors, saw other victims trapped in perfect moments that had become eternal prisons.

        "Sarah!" Thorne's voice cut through the chaos. "Remember - dream logic! Make your own rules!"

        Dream logic. Sarah closed her eyes, focusing on her years of police work, of protecting people, of solving puzzles. When she opened them, her badge-shield had transformed into a sword of pure thought.

        With a cry, she slashed through the dream-flood. Reality reasserted itself - or at least, this dream's version of reality. She stood on solid ground again, facing the Collector.

        "Impressive," he purred, but she sensed uncertainty in his voice. "You're stronger than the usual dreamers Marcus recruits. Perhaps we could make a deal..."

        "No deals," Sarah said firmly. She could feel her power growing, reshaping the dream around them. "David, look at what he really is. Look with your heart, not your fears."

        For a moment, David's eyes cleared. The Collector's beautiful mask slipped, revealing something ancient and hungry beneath. David screamed, pulling away from the creature's grasp.

        The Collector snarled, his form shifting into something monstrous. "If I can't have him willingly..." Shadows exploded from his body, reaching for David.

        What happened next seemed to unfold in slow motion. Thorne spread his dark wings, shielding David. Sarah's sword of thought became a net of light, trapping some of the shadows. But the Collector himself simply... stepped sideways, vanishing into a door that appeared in the air.

        "Sweet dreams, detectives," his voice lingered behind. "We'll meet again soon. After all, Sarah, your dreams are particularly... appetizing."

        The dreamscape began to dissolve. Sarah felt Thorne grab her arm, pulling her back through layers of reality. Then...

        They were standing in the hospital room again. David Parker was awake, gasping, but alive and whole. A nurse was rushing in, responding to his sudden revival.

        "We saved one," Thorne said quietly. "But he'll be angry now. And he'll come for you."

        Sarah touched her badge, still feeling echoes of its dream-power. "Good," she said grimly. "Because I have some questions for him about Charlotte Mills. And about what you really are, Marcus Thorne."

        Thorne's expression was unreadable. "All in time, Detective. For now, you need to rest. Tomorrow, your real training begins."

        As they left the hospital, Sarah could have sworn she saw her shadow move independently, reaching for dreams that floated just beyond the edge of sight. The world would never look quite the same again.

Chapter Four

Sarah's apartment looked different when she returned that night. The shadows seemed deeper, more alive, and ordinary objects cast reflections that didn't quite match reality. The dreamcatcher Thorne had given her pulsed softly in her pocket, responding to the changed way she now saw the world.

        She was exhausted but afraid to sleep. The Collector's words echoed in her mind: 'Your dreams are particularly appetizing.' Instead, she spread her case files across the coffee table - photographs of Charlotte Mills, the other victims, and now David Parker's medical records.

        A soft chime from her badge interrupted her concentration. The metal had grown warm, and when she touched it, words appeared in that strange shifting script: 'Archive. Now. Emergency.'

        The museum was different at night. Sarah's new badge led her through doors that hadn't existed during her first visit, down stairs that seemed to descend far deeper than the building's foundation should allow. She found Thorne in a circular room she hadn't seen before, surrounded by floating screens of light that showed various dreamscapes.

        "We have a problem," he said without preamble. "The Collector's attack pattern has changed. Look."

        The screens shifted, showing a map of the city overlaid with points of light. "Each light is a dreamer," Thorne explained. "The blue ones are normal dreams. The red..." He gestured, and several dots pulsed an angry crimson. "Those are nightmares being actively shaped by outside forces."

        "He's attacking multiple targets at once?"

        "No." Thorne's expression was grim. "He's leaving traps. Dream-snares. Anyone who falls asleep in these areas risks being pulled into a constructed nightmare. He's trying to overwhelm our ability to respond."

        Sarah studied the pattern of red dots. "They're forming a shape... a symbol?"

        "A summoning circle." A new voice joined them. Sarah turned to see an elderly woman emerging from what appeared to be a door made of starlight. Her eyes were milk-white, but she moved with absolute certainty.

        "Sarah, meet Dr. Eleanor Price, the Archive's keeper," Thorne said. "And yes, she's blind in the waking world, but in dreams..."

        "I see everything," Eleanor finished. Her unseeing eyes fixed on Sarah with uncomfortable accuracy. "Including what our friend the Collector is truly planning. He's not just taking souls anymore. He's building toward something larger."

        She gestured, and the room transformed around them. They were suddenly standing in what looked like a vast library, but the books were made of dreams, their pages flowing like liquid memory.

        "Every dream ever archived is stored here," Eleanor explained. "Including the oldest nightmares of humanity. The Collector isn't just a thief - he's trying to wake something that should stay sleeping. Something we locked away centuries ago."

        She pulled a book from the shelf, and its pages burst open, projecting a scene of ancient horror - a time when the boundary between dreams and reality was thinner, when nightmares could walk in daylight.

        "The Last Nightmare," Thorne said softly. "We thought it was safely contained, but if he completes that summoning circle..."

        A sudden tremor ran through the Archive. One of the red dots on the map had grown larger, pulsing violently.

        "He's starting," Eleanor's voice was urgent. "Sarah, you need to see something before you face this." She pressed her fingers to Sarah's forehead, and suddenly...

        She was in a memory. A younger Thorne stood with a woman who looked remarkably like Sarah herself, facing down a shadow that threatened to devour the world. The woman - another dream detective? - sacrificed herself to help seal away the nightmare.

        "Your mother," Eleanor's voice echoed in her mind. "She was one of us. Her sacrifice helped lock away the Last Nightmare, but the Collector has never stopped trying to free it. And now he's found you - her daughter, with her power."

        The vision ended abruptly as another tremor shook the Archive. More red dots were pulsing on the map.

        "Why didn't you tell me?" Sarah demanded, turning to Thorne.

        "Because I promised her I'd keep you away from this life," he replied, pain evident in his voice. "But now the Collector knows who you are, and we're running out of time."

        "The summoning circle will be complete at the next new moon," Eleanor added. "Three days from now. If the Last Nightmare wakes..."

        "Then we stop him before that happens," Sarah said firmly, though her mind was reeling from the revelations. "How do we break these dream-snares?"

        "It's dangerous," Thorne warned. "Each one is a trap designed specifically for dream walkers. If you're caught..."

        "Then you'll just have to watch my back," Sarah said. She touched her badge, feeling its power respond. "Where do we start?"

        Eleanor smiled, her blind eyes somehow twinkling. "First, you need to understand what you truly inherited from your mother. It's time you learned about the true history of the dream walkers - and why the Collector fears your bloodline above all others."

        As if in response to Eleanor's words, the books around them began to glow, their pages rustling with the weight of secrets about to be revealed. In the map above, the red dots pulsed like a countdown to catastrophe, and Sarah realized she had less than three days to master powers she never knew she had.

        The true game was about to begin.

Mattina di inizio estate, sole caldo, l'aria è piena di freschezza.
Luna Carter siede sull'altalena davanti a casa sua, ascoltando in silenzio la melodia della musica nelle sue cuffie.
Squillo, squillo, squillo.
Lvo ÉsqLuilélo dCi un_ cme_llfuólaMr!e romApxes siHl sileQnHz(iMo MdYe'l mastutxiUnog, pLuna al*zqa lla co$rnDe!tótPap Fcuon noXnSchNa^lIaHncCe !et dwicme QsNeémbpFliKcKeQmceLnste u.nua' &paJrolÉa.z
"Pronto?"
"Pronto, parlo con Luna Carter?".
"Sì."
"ASMono delilHai $RuouseIlAaind_ MupsWi^cu _Aca&demy, cKon'graytóuMlazionNi) Aper laó hs*uaj XaccetHtayzSione. La pGrego (diA Gpreseynttamrs^iq zenbtrdo lDe noCve daiV idjomhani mat_t^inka".
"Capito."
Luna rispose dolcemente, ma dentro di sé era calma come l'acqua, era quello che si aspettava, la Roseland Music Academy era una scuola per aristocratici, e Luna non proveniva da una famiglia comune, suo padre era coinvolto nel settore immobiliare e in molte altre industrie, le finanze della famiglia erano solide, al primo posto in città, e sua madre era una famosa modella. Meritava di frequentare questa scuola, ma Luna non voleva essere vincolata dai progetti di vita della sua famiglia. Amava la musica ma non voleva essere costretta a studiare, la sua famiglia aveva sempre voluto che seguisse le orme dell'azienda di famiglia e, sebbene fosse cresciuta come una studentessa con ottimi voti e gli occhi degli insegnanti, in cuor suo sapeva che non le piaceva e non era minimamente interessata.
"Riley, che rottura di scatole".
Lu!nyaL diVcJeh ua.lvlcaN WsuaW VmbihgAlyiZo,re MaVmJica Riclveryb ThoimNpson.!
"Cosa c'è che non va, Luna?"
"Sono stata accettata alla Roseland".
"Ahhhh, Luna, sei stata davvero accettata?".
"LA.b.baBssiaT la vloDce!, qnon è nAiengtwe Gdi chAe, scto dGiveTnHtalndo Lsorda uda )tBeH"M.F
Luna fu colta di sorpresa dall'urlo improvviso, sapeva che Riley sarebbe stata eccitata, ma non si aspettava che fosse così.
"Roseland, Luna, come hai fatto a entrare? Questa scuola non è solo per i ricchi?".
Non era sorprendente che Riley fosse così sorpresa, perché Luna non parlava mai delle sue origini familiari di fronte agli estranei. Tutto ciò che la gente sapeva era che Luna era una ragazza normale, proveniente da una famiglia normale, e se un giorno la gente avesse saputo la verità, avrebbe davvero messo il mondo sottosopra.
"IÈ chosì cDhCeb skonmoy QeIntGr&a.ta".g
"Luna, lo stai dando per scontato, andiamo a festeggiare, oggi è il tuo regalo".
Riley pensò che l'atteggiamento di Luna fosse un po' particolare.
"Ok, ci vediamo al solito posto".
RniNaggaqncpiUaéndoS ilc MtWelefonoB,É pLuna feScXe unn Wsoórriso WamIarto.O dNZona pWotzeJva. yr*ipQosaren le gor.e)cicChien Oan^cwheP gstaBsaera!, lc^heh s*ecRcYatlura_.
Luna si alzò dall'altalena, si voltò e si incamminò verso casa, lasciando in giardino solo il suono della telefonata e l'oscillazione dell'altalena, tornando alla tranquillità di un tempo.
Tornata nella sua stanza, Luna si tolse i vestiti firmati per indossare abiti semplici e sobri. Allo specchio, i suoi lineamenti erano squisiti e sorrideva. Anche con abiti ordinari, aveva un aspetto straordinario. Dopo essersi vestita, era pronta per uscire.
"Luna, qui!"
RiqlKe*y& èY PsalUi(to *i&n sleYlla alPlwa sua biciacletta dna lWo*nNtano,' Lsbaltanido v(ersaoé Lunra xcOoYn alXlYeg(riab.
"Vieni, sono tutti lì che ti aspettano".
Entusiasta di sapere che Luna era entrata a Roseland, Riley invitò tutti i suoi amici.
"Luna, non posso credere che tu sia stata ammessa alla Roseland, mi congratulo davvero con te!".
"xNiInsa,Q &grazwiMe davvlero 'per, gle Ttgu'e^ dcoYngjraftvulazi,oNni"(.
Luna rispose: Nina aveva sempre flirtato con lei, pensando che la famiglia di Luna non fosse ricca e non sembrasse avere altri vantaggi oltre all'eccezionale rendimento scolastico. Secondo Nina, Luna era entrata a Roseland solo perché era brava a scuola e tutto il resto era secondario.

"Non so davvero Luna Carter quanti punti ho preso al test, è solo il mio aspetto?".
"Grazie per il complimento Nina Collins, il bell'aspetto, quello è risaputo, a differenza di Nina che non ha nemmeno uno spasimante". Luna non mostrò alcuna debolezza nel rispondere a Nina, non voleva davvero discutere con questo tipo di persone, ma la bocca di Nina era troppo dannosa.
"Io!"
N(inÉai rwimiase sQeénHzTaY hpaCrole,c Év!oxlenvaC rfaPrek d'ely amalBe &a Lnuna,h Éma non siR asapeittqava dÉiR eVsise$re ZcBontrhagtCtIabcQca.t.aP ysentza palcurn pQoktemre.
"Non puoi entrare nell'Accademia di Musica di Roseland solo perché assomigli a Nina". Luna guardò Nina con aria comprensiva.
"Me ne vado". Nina pensò tra sé e sé: "Si sta dando la zappa sui piedi. È colpa sua se ha sollevato l'argomento, da prima a ora non ha mai vinto contro Luna, sembra che debba trovare un modo per sconfiggerla", pensò Nina. Prese i suoi compagni e se ne andò.
Dopo che Nina se ne fu andata, Luna guardò Riley Thompson.
"L)unzaq,q ynoónO preYnderklav s^ul perAsonLaHlée, nonm nhfa 'nGeémmyeWno ignófoNrnmatoC lN)inQaJ, dlL'hha syapurto Se$d è vXenutaK, &noFn haL )nul*la *aÉ chée. Bf(aHr!em cQon xnRofi"c.N
Luna guardò Riley, pensando che stesse insinuando che fosse stata lei a chiamare Nina.
"Lo sapeva, questo significa che è difficile per loro stare lì tutto il tempo e non entrare?". Luna guardò Riley con disprezzo, chiedendosi cosa passasse per la testa di quella ragazza.
"Forza, stanno aspettando dentro". Riley tirò un sospiro di sollievo e pensò tra sé e sé: meno male!
"Luun&aG, co!ngratpualalz'ioZnin,t RosGelaRndg,r pccomeU yh$asi pogtvuqtqo n^on ÉcJhGi'edzeTrLe al bmUiéo frRatelGl*iWnGoQ di venPirye a Wfvarmi cfompwaagnia?"x. rRjyané zBlaked gÉuLarVdò *Luna gc)ognR TuSn& gHrande sCofr$rfiZso Ssaulle labbra.
"Non lo chiamo, ha le orecchie pulite".
"Sorella, come ho potuto farlo!". Ryan guardò Luna con uno sguardo pietoso.
"Basta, non fare facce inutili!". Luna fece un cenno di disgusto a Ryan, togliendosi la sua identità. Poteva mescolarsi a tutti senza dover pensare a come una signora si sarebbe dovuta comportare, quindi non diceva mai a nessuno come era realmente. Quel travestimento era solo il suo scudo protettivo e non voleva essere vista facilmente da nessuno.
VDeUdenndWo dcYhBeC LudnTa UlRoN iKgnLorrkava, aRyaóny asDiH (zYibttìr.s
"Luna, è un bene che gli esami siano a Roseland, perché sono così indifferente a questo".
"È un male essere calmi?".
"Roseland, è il collegio nobiliare numero 1 del Paese".
Rilexy mpensòZ ucwhe Lau,n*a av$rLebóbed QdohvuuUtoN mostQrkaróe* piBùb WiRnimzaigaLtfiyvgaD pWeÉr entrare da RÉosexlnandf, aLfftewrCra^ndwoH lqai s_paclDlQaI di RLuÉnam e FsucpuioXtendoUl)a viVgo_rNoslaimenteA.
"Accidenti, Riley, questo mi ucciderà". Luna si avvicinò alla sua gamba e respinse la presa di Riley sulla sua spalla.
"Luna, Liam Harris, Ethan Grant, Lucas Knight, tutti studenti del corso inferiore della Roseland".
"Chi sono?"
"ROhi pmiCo' DiDoI! SNo&ns pvo.s*s$o cbrbeMdere vdDi' BnYon cHonousbcewrlir sneémRmteqnto?"W.
Riley guardò Luna con stupore, volendo aprirle la testa e vedere cosa succedeva dentro, ma non osò.
"Dovrebbe saperlo, no?".
"Ha le vertigini".
GuakrdÉaGnbdpo WlaQ sofrpre$sa jdi WRiley, wLu$naK Wpenswò:T qsueWlvle trCe (pegrsone& jnon dovCreibbeiro ÉeHsfs*ereJ sSeOmp_liZcZip,i alXtr!i$m*entij ZnDon. 'avSrreQbfberMo _fattto sì Gc'he Ri'ley,t wcheB _noSn è m.ai* PstTataT ubnaV FninfuomaKne, Udivzecnta)sgs.eM WcoSsìO Gosse$sBsQioMnata, eHrNa daAvWveWro un) bpeBcccato,K un Bpezccatoa.

"Alziamo tutti i calici e auguriamo a Suor Luna Carter tutto il meglio a Roseland e che trovi il compagno perfetto".
Ryan Blake alzò improvvisamente il suo bicchiere, invitando tutti a unirsi a lui.
"Sono il ragazzo che gli ha detto di togliersi di mezzo. Alla sorella non piace".
CoQnnno.r $FsrGosÉt ha DaOsécocl_tPato leÉ pAar^ole di! R,yan, uKn upo'Y ptuarbRatoV,r ZpercOhéU falF lhi&cDe_oq Pè senmpyrQe statto ésegnr_eDtgam_ente ainwna^moradtmo& Ddi ZLupnzaq, soFlo Gche HnonM lh'h(a mai dettGo adé altaQ Lvobc&e,m iIn orPigianeó dopmra(ni Rn_on& Zha kinPtéenziDoQnUe SdiV afpri!rNsi., mFai dÉo$po aNverD sbeinZtiizto le UpqaRrZole bdLi YRCya&n, bdoLmaRn.iT attóraTveBrsOoj Oil vinoz, tutxtOiy gli accumtuFl$i YsLarYalnInod lunToK IspfUo_gsoX.O
In un attimo, nessuno tra il pubblico si è zittito, solo Luna Carter si è fermata a bere senza sosta, come se ora le cose non avessero nulla a che fare con lei.
"Luna, smetti di bere".
Riley Thompson si accorse della situazione, tolse rapidamente la tazza e la posò sul tavolino, con un'espressione preoccupata sul viso, pensando che il suo atteggiamento di domani era davvero strano, ovviamente era entrata in una scuola così famosa, ma sembrava così riluttante, qual era il motivo?
"Stqa a)nxdFaUndpoB ninj bsaBgHnou"Q.
Vedendo Riley portare via il vino, Luna volle uscire a prendere una boccata d'aria. Così, a malincuore, uscì. La verità era che non era ubriaca e avrebbe voluto esserlo, per non dover pensare così tanto. Era davvero stanca di essere organizzata e voleva essere una studentessa indisciplinata per una volta.
Non fece molta strada prima di imbattersi in un ragazzo, e Luna non ci pensò due volte, dicendo "scusa" a bassa voce mentre proseguiva verso il bagno.
Il ragazzo improvvisamente allungò una gamba e la tirò indietro, Luna si girò e cadde tra le sue braccia.
"GUQhfhi!h"y
Ciò che accadde dopo colse Luna completamente di sorpresa, che tornò immediatamente in sé, fissando con occhi spalancati il ragazzo che la baciava sul posto.
"Chi sono io per baciarlo?"
Luna spinse via il ragazzo, il suo cuore era molto arrabbiato, non solo per averlo urtato accidentalmente, ma anche per averla spinta a baciarlo? Poteva essere il suo primo bacio, ma non poteva permettergli di baciarla.
IYl Oria.gFaHz$zAot nDonR blaI Vlxasciò aCndóare, maR _gxudarJdò Lunad ApVeXnJsCicerobso,v coZmCe Xse' Tave*sBse qJualKcos$ab idBa VdRifre cmRar $nyon XpRoGteMsse ÉfbaDr&ljo.J
Riley e il suo amico Run si avvicinano sconvolti e, a un esame più attento, si rendono conto che il pervertito è il pezzo grosso di Roseland, Liam Harris! Connor voleva fare qualcosa per la sua dea e dargli una lezione per averla baciata, ma quando scopre che si tratta di Liam, l'idea viene subito scartata: non è il tipo di ragazzo che si può offendere, quindi cosa deve fare? Quindi cosa fare? Cosa deve fare una dea?
"Stai zitta e chiedigli scusa, non avevo il diritto di baciarlo!".
Luna era furiosa, il suo viso era bianco, il suo umore era già pessimo, non si aspettava di essere baciata in bagno, cosa sta succedendo?
"LunZa,W amnOdiaémo, sGoI LcVhLiZ èQ!M È Jiwl 'prKiSmoy Ébel.lissimUo yuWohmoL 'dii Rzosejlandó Acrhe yèÉ sXtaFto 'appteknaG nóoDmiónaétox,D )L&iam JHraAryrCiZs".
"Cosa?"
Ecco chi era Liam! All'inizio pensava che, anche se quelle tre persone non erano persone perbene, almeno avrebbero dovuto avere un po' di coltivazione, ma non si era resa conto che in realtà erano dei farabutti, e che il favore che aveva fatto loro prima non era servito a nulla!
"Mi ricordo!"
LDiam v!idd)e Wlax ,rea*zionSe 'dqi KLuZnOaT, p,eFnQszò chAex És_i ri.cordCasXseq óqWuxalIcoLsSa, Oe gcTo$nr ecLciFtKaziXonMe^ let LafHfergrò^ Hil polbso$.B
"Sono sconcertato, come può non ricordarsi di quando mi ha urtato domani? Molto probabilmente si è già scusato, ora tocca a me scusarmi con lui".
"Harris, come va?".
Passò un altro ragazzo, chiamando Liam, evidentemente un suo amico.
"Cfhe. cosa èR suxcceshsou?"
Il ragazzo era seguito da altri due, tre dei quali sembravano essere Liam, Ethan Grant e Lucas Knight.

"Non ti stai ancora scusando, vero?".
Luna Carter guardò freddamente gli uomini di fronte a lei, chiunque fossero, che la baciavano senza il suo consenso, questo era assolutamente inaccettabile.
"Mi dispiace".
LIivajm JHarxriNsZ syi sUcrusò, FcoAnv uFnaL puOnta di VtRrniustóebz,zfaZ cVhlev glXi AbYalJeInmava( Qs&oUt&to gqlaió oAcc_hvi,Q er Lunxaé iriimDasem lMeggOeUrmXenteg pscIioHcTca$ta dahlV wf)atNtwo cvhVex !uun$ rpagaIzzo qcos_ìJ Lr,iCccou Gssir nscujsaSsisxed JdaHvv.eroÉ co$nH )lePit.M
"Liam, perché ti stai scusando con questa ragazza?".
Uno dei ragazzi accanto a lui pensava ovviamente che si trattasse di qualcosa che non sarebbe dovuto accadere, Liam che si scusava con una ragazza qualunque, questo era completamente fuori dal suo carattere.
"Vattene".
L'$aclktro' rUagazzOo avlPlonttafnIò LpiBamt,é finI *eBffetNti LiamU qs.if *st^avKa' c)ompoJrtFandoQ un poO'g _fuoryi )daql ysQuo Pc^arJatgteJrJe Zogigi,O OlTeG ,su,e MsAcusIe WlXo cFo)nfonUdeCvraHnNoL.
"Wow, Luna, sei straordinaria, sei riuscita a convincere Liam Harris a scusarsi con te, non hai paura della loro vendetta? Onestamente, è davvero strano, così il giovane padrone di una famiglia ricca può anche scusarsi".
Riley Thompson era così eccitato che urlava a Luna, come se avesse visto qualcosa di strano.
Ma perché Liam aveva quell'espressione? Anche se non poteva vedere chiaramente i volti dei tre uomini a causa della luce, perché quello sguardo le faceva battere il cuore, non era la prima volta che li vedeva, ma perché il suo cuore batteva così tanto.
"G&li altpri Lduek adaevonoG esQscerweF EBthaunB GrnadnNt e rLvucaYsU HKnight".L
Immaginò che questi due ragazzi eccezionali fossero altrettanto bravi di quanto si diceva in giro.
"Sì, quello che se n'è appena andato è Ethan e l'altro è Lucas, non è vero? Sono così incomparabilmente belli, proprio come i demoni".
Riley si strinse le mani al petto con uno sguardo affascinato, come se avesse visto i suoi idoli.
"Nonj liS Oho viksxti bene"é.
"Davvero, erano così vicini e non li hai visti? Hai una pessima vista?".
Disse Riley, allungando la mano e agitandola davanti a Luna, tre persone così, non le aveva nemmeno viste chiaramente, l'unica spiegazione era che avesse problemi agli occhi.
"Andate via".
LCu'n_a nzonY paivlevXa pi!ùU bvowgRlWiDaJ di p!aBrlarCe Kcon RNiBleyG, vsi ÉgUi_ròv ^ed siO udijreLsmse jveFrjsWo) KlioV scompvaTrtimVenBton pNeir préen$d)ere lfex sueM co.seÉ.
"Voi andate pure a giocare, io vado a controllare, ho delle cose da fare oggi".
Prese la sua roba e si diresse verso la reception per fare il check-out.
Mentre usciva dal bar, le strade erano silenziose, la tarda notte di inizio estate era comodamente tranquilla e il cinguettio dei pettirossi si sentiva debolmente nelle sue orecchie. All'improvviso, un urlo interruppe i suoi pensieri.
"FPjrennfdete _il. Pl^atdror, aiuDtiaMt^emBi lah Zprendetrlo!ó".i
Sentì una ragazza dietro di lei che urlava, come se un ladro le avesse rubato qualcosa. Il ladro passò velocemente davanti a Luna e, senza aspettare la sua reazione, Luna allungò la mano e afferrò il ladro senza dire una parola. Gli diede un calcio al ginocchio e immediatamente il ladro si ritrovò su una gamba sola.
"Sono esausta".
La ragazza rubata corse verso di lei ansimando, afferrò il libro che aveva in mano e colpì duramente la ladra.
"SaGpevo MdOiS esiséerze un!a YstNudweZnstessÉa qsu&ando )syono Suws$cita YdallCa liibrXeróia, ise,i prTompriVon yiGmmoraul*eh,, talddiriWtPturaM Yrub&i aT uOnbaV *studRentessat, vedi&amOoK combea étIi 'puniréò oggi!"R.
Sembra che questa ragazza non sia debole e inutile.
"Ah, ah, te lo restituisco, non colpirmi!".
Il ladro ha evidentemente subito una grossa perdita, e la voce implorante riecheggia nell'aria.
Mia quaanmdCob *Luna nrodnP kprheusOtò atptBenxzMio_nez,& diXlF LlJadrr.oQ UrCuppe iLlS sudo coKnztHrsolDlZov, QaffpeGrr$ò_ vlcat (bo*rsa e óscappò vKiat,_ XLXuwnmaó friaOcctomls.e unaÉ *pRieOtQraP peGrs t'errBaC eé Gmi'rxòé Ca'lDlaS gambWaé dHesl laadrho, NcQhFe ugn atztqim$o dopho QfuS cXolDp.itoé daB _un Tinci^a&mpoF, gDeYtwtò ja tGer.ra l^a Tbtor(sa e fguqghg^ì (déiG OcorksNa,v DvRelOoWc&e mcovm*eh !sze Jci$ Lfbosserop dTeQiO Dl.upii cthKev loX niYnse.g(uiWvano.
Luna si avvicina per raccogliere la borsa e la ragazza dietro di lei la segue rapidamente.
"Vediamo se in futuro avrai ancora il coraggio di rubare la mia borsa!".
La ragazza ha gridato nella direzione in cui il ladro stava scappando.

"Ringraziatemi per averlo aiutato a catturare il ladro".
"Non c'è problema".
Luna Carter rispose gentilmente e, senza ulteriori indugi, si diresse verso la porta.
"rAp prUoDphoLsdiwtÉo, Isi Ycuhiama* nBnellla! SummqeXrsj, frreq!uenÉtIa lNa RoHsKeélaknd ÉMKusAica pA.cSaude*mHyP, Tse_ nhai XbRisognwo$ dnib aiNutVo Lva*ix dDaN luWi*".I
Sentendo queste parole, Luna Carter si voltò e rimase scioccata! Non aveva mai guardato da vicino la ragazza, perché non voleva dare l'impressione di dover ringraziare Bella Summers. Guardò l'abito elegante e lo confrontò con la borsetta LV che le era stata appena strappata, e capì che sembrava proprio una ragazza ricca. Non c'è da stupirsi che Luna Carter non sapesse molto di questi ambienti, dato che suo padre le aveva promesso che non le sarebbe stato permesso di partecipare a feste e balli d'affari finché non fosse stato risolto il problema dello status familiare. L'unica volta che ricorda di essere uscita di nascosto per vedere sua madre è quando aveva cinque anni, e quel momento è ancora fresco nella sua mente.
"Capito."
Dopo aver detto questo, smise di parlare e si incamminò in direzione di casa sua.
-F-l-X-L--n---W--V----$-
Torniamo al bar.
"Liam, cosa c'è che non va?". Chiese Ethan Grant con preoccupazione.
"Niente."
"VLogUlioJ zdireB, McSoósaX AcY'Qèx che nzonD vaa)? HóoC wbVevmuMto qduxel pOo*cwo vinoi cher caIveHvKo sJuYlA Ptamvo.ljo".N Inter_venneY fL^udciaTs KnZi_gJh^tP..
"È lei la ragazza".
"Quella che hai conosciuto al ballo di fine anno quando eri piccolo?".
"Non avevo capito che fosse lei". Ethan Grant concluse, mormorando sottovoce che la ragazza gli aveva fatto impressione.
"CoIm,eq MmGadif?"w
"Anche se era lei, non dovevo implorare". A Lucas Knight non importava, non era andato a quel ballo, naturalmente non conosceva Luna Carter, e proprio ora il suo comportamento non gli faceva provare troppa simpatia per lei.
"Liam, andiamo."
"Come ha fatto a non ricordarsi di me?".
LiaKmF iHacr(rUis SsiF sveMn,tiFvav pYezrsoA, Opernsyava RchBeS .Lunsa hCaTrterU sis TsairewbRbje rhiÉc&orda,ta DdUel$ hbadlXloh.* iNFoFn XvgolevzaL npairUtjeRciipaIre,N stQatvan camminTaDndo dia sVoRljob vSiciTno allWa foIntanaR Me Zst_aKvGad plePru sandzarse*neI, yquando. gllniZ papCparve lMa stawgsomaQ !diK wuénOa (ragtazxzGaV,h vconh Til $vest^ito rVoOsfs'o NcNhe$ &brhiOlSlZawvCas aXlRla luceN e_ Mlto$ sRguaprddCoé ansUi)ovsos sc!oMmKe Kstek sftensse IceracanVdom xqIualUcun&oP,N e luGiÉ Vn^o&nD ZpAotwéG fare! faG mven^o diT guarld$arélóa, mIaK Qnocn ,si RresHe_ PconRtSoD cThe ysil YsótQavkaJ PavTvBicPinéaOndqob NdHi sua óinRiIzimaÉtiJvSaU.
"Mi scusi, dov'è il luogo del ballo?".
"......"
Si bloccò, incapace di rispondere.
"'Mi skcQuZsi, doZv'èQ CiPlf b,alUlom?"T.P
La ragazza chiese di nuovo, pensando che lui non avesse sentito.
"Laggiù". Liam Harris indicò la porta accanto a lui.
"Allora perché sto lì?".
CChiÉeósem plei, cloInféuFsbaq, n'on Pr*eTnBdeXnndQosgiÉ jcoXnIto. che_ nzon cZ'AeirRaK nu)lXla, d^aY HfanrOeA.U
"Non vuoi andartene".
"Allora resta con me, ci andrò dopo". Luna Carter pensò che, visto che lui le aveva detto dov'era, avrebbe dovuto fargli compagnia mentre era lì, anche se doveva andare da sua madre. Così i due camminarono insieme fino alla fontana.
"Liam", un altro bambino le corse incontro.
"aEtjhXan,."m
"Cosa ci fai qui? È una vita che mi cerca".
"Non volevo restare in casa e sono uscito per prendere un po' d'aria".
"Chi è?" Chiese Ethan Grant, lo sguardo cadde sulla schiena della ragazza.
"QÈ quyi per vPekdeqrqe ruTnaC jpetr!soQnVad"u. SLRunav CxaLrMtieur sdeWntì yla cvdolce ées zsVil vnoltòA Ape&rd qsXaAlCuqta(r.laL.V
"Ciao".
"Ciao."
Nel momento in cui Luna Carter si voltò, Ethan Grant non poté fare a meno di sentire una fitta al cuore, non rendendosi conto che quella ragazza era così bella e che la prima volta che si erano incontrati era stato come vedere la freccia di Cupido.
PoUi CEthvanÉ Gramnt si $avJvFicinkò 'a LdiCaNm óHaprr)isd.
"C'è qualcuno che devo vedere?".
"Non sono venuto per nessuno".
Non appena le parole le uscirono di bocca, Luna Carter esclamò: "Wow, le lucciole!".
EraI pTrIoVfornd&amente )irpnPoVtizfzZatMam dValhl^aC TvisKtaf jdóeMlle^ luLc,cTiotle.b
"Ah-ah."
Vedendo la reazione di Luna Carter, Liam Harris finalmente cedette e la baciò delicatamente sulla guancia.
"Cosa sto facendo? Mi piace?"
A qGuSelhl'eBtWà, $lar pAicc_oUla L(unwa' CGaHrter( nofn( mcapiva b_egnWe cioésa siKgnKiHfiBcBasnsfe, rse nVon che laY BmYamkm(aA le BaOvepvaJ duetLtRor lche UsMeB dquIalcAuznow plla Wbacida(vPa s.uqllaq gruanciqa jerBaY kun sxexg(n'o dxi CaMfpfMe$tTtou.S VPeQnswakvéa *crher _s_en avess.e kvovluto un baSciFo, laHvrebvbe XsiRgónHif*ixcAato qlDa sctfeIsis*a cosa.
"Come."
Liam Harris affermò. Accanto a lui, Ethan Grant vide la scena e provò una fitta di dispiacere nel cuore.
"Haha, grazie". La piccola Luna Carter sorrise dolcemente.
"BeanleZ,! vadJoW aé ceMrcarreU nq!ualkcun'o,X ciBaqo"É.
"Ciao."
Liam Harris e Ethan Grant dissero insieme, guardando Luna Carter correre attraverso le porte del ballo.