The conversation shifts back to Academia di Stelle, the name hanging in the air like a challenge. We sip our sparkling water, the bubbles sharp on our tongues, and lean forward, eager to talk strategy.
"Think the school's changed much?" Vittoria asks, her fingers tracing the rim of her glass. "New security, new kids—sounds like a circus."
Nonno's eyes narrow, his voice low. "It's tighter this year. More guards, more cameras. The school's got kids of kings and queens now, not just mafia heirs. You'll need to watch your backs."
We nod, our beads glowing brighter. The school's residences—Orion, Cassiopeia, Andromeda—are like mini-kingdoms, each unique, each a status symbol.
The rich pay for everything—water, lights, security—while Bronze and Silver kids work as maids or cleaners to stay afloat.
We've heard of parties in those houses, galas with auctions, trips in sleek buses to museums or rival schools. It's a world where money talks, and we're the loudest.
"Any new teachers?" Viviana asks, her tone sceptical. "Last year, half of them were more interested in bribes than teaching."
Nonna sighs, her gold earrings swaying. "Some new ones, yes. But be careful. Money makes people bold, and not always in a good way."
We exchange a look, our minds racing. Teachers dating students, trading gifts for grades—it's an open secret at Academia di Stelle. We've never played that game, but we know how to use it to our advantage.
"What about the parties?" Vittoria grins, leaning back. "Bet every Gold kid's planning one just to get us to show up."
I laugh, picturing the chaos. "If we go, the whole school follows. That's power."
Elena shifts by the door, her Silver bead catching the light. "You'll be invited to plenty," she says, her voice soft but firm. "Choose wisely. Your presence sets the tone."
We nod, respecting her advice. Elena's always been our compass, guiding us through the noise of our world. We're ready to walk into school and own it, but her words linger—choose wisely.
Dinner ends with a dessert of tiramisu, its creamy layers dusted with cocoa, served in gold-rimmed bowls. We savour each bite, the sweetness grounding us.
Nonno and Nonna rise, their Obsidian beads glowing like ours, and we follow, our suits rustling softly. Elena stays by the door, her posture unwavering, her eyes warm as she watches us.
We want to tell her to relax, but we know she won't—not during a family moment like this.
"Let's walk the wing," Nonno says, his voice a gentle command. "See what Giovanni's done with the place."
We grin, eager to explore. The East Wing feels alive tonight, its obsidian walls humming with secrets.
We pass the library, its shelves packed with books and holographic tablets, the air thick with the scent of leather.
The gym's mirrors reflect our shadows, the combat mats waiting for our next session.
The private theatre's velvet seats call to Vittoria, who's already plotting a movie night. The conservatory's glass dome sparkles, its plants glowing faintly under the moon.
The sauna and massage room, scented with eucalyptus, promise relaxation, while the salon's gold mirrors reflect our faces, sharp and ready.
We climb the spiral staircase to the roof terrace, the night air cool against our skin.
The terrace is a paradise of glass railings and plush loungers, the view stretching to Luminara's glittering skyline.
The pool below glows, its gold tiles shimmering like treasure. We lean against the railing, our beads pulsing, our gold jewellery catching the starlight.
"School's tomorrow," Viviana says, her voice quiet but firm. "We go in together, like always."
"Always," I echo, my hand brushing Vittoria's.
Vittoria smirks, her eyes on the city. "Let's make them remember why we're Vesperas."
Nonno and Nonna join us, their hands linked, their smiles proud. "You will," Nonno says. "You're our legacy."
We stand together, the East Wing behind us, the world ahead. Our beads glow, a promise of power, and we know—whatever comes, we'll face it as one.