Under the Old City

The bus stopped at the old stone gate.

Ami looked out the window.

The town was beautiful.

There were old stone buildings on every side.

The streets were narrow and made of small, grey cobblestones.

The rooftops were red and orange.

A sea wind was blowing through the streets.

"Welcome to Portville," Mr. Tanaka said from the front of the bus.

He was smiling.

"This is one of the oldest towns in the country.

It has a long and interesting history.

Today, we are going to learn about the people who lived here one hundred years ago."

Ami loved old things.

She loved old buildings, old stories, and old objects.

Her grandmother always said that old things had secrets.

Ami believed this.

The students got off the bus.

They were wearing school uniforms and carrying small backpacks.

Ami's best friend, Kenji, walked next to her.

He was tall and quiet.

He always carried a bottle of water and a bag of snacks.

"I'm hungry," Kenji said.

"You're always hungry," Ami said, and she laughed.

"Are you excited?" Yuki asked.

She was walking behind them.

Yuki had short hair and a big smile.

She was taking photos of everything with her phone.

"Look at that old door! Look at those stone steps! Look at that window!"

"Yes, I am very excited," Ami said.

She was looking at the old buildings.

She was thinking about the people who lived there a long time ago.

What did they do? What did they make? What was their life like?

Mr. Tanaka led the group through the gate and into the town.

The streets were quiet.

A few tourists were walking around.

An old woman was sitting outside a small shop, drinking coffee.

A cat was sleeping on a stone wall.

"Our first stop is the Old Portville Museum," Mr. Tanaka said.

"It is in the old harbour warehouse. It opened ten years ago. It shows the history of the town.

Please stay with the group. Do not touch anything unless I say you can."

"Yes, Mr. Tanaka," the students said together.

They walked down the main street.

Ami was looking at everything.

She saw old symbols carved into the stone walls.

She saw old iron door handles.

She saw dates above the doors: 1887, 1901, 1923.

Each number was a year. Each building had a story.

"This town is amazing," Ami said quietly.

"It smells like fish," Kenji said.

Yuki laughed. "That is the harbour!"

They walked past a small square.

In the middle of the square, there was a stone fountain.

The water was still running after all those years.

Ami stopped and looked at the fountain.

There was a symbol on the front of it.

It was a circle with a flame inside.

She took out her notebook and drew the symbol.

"What are you doing?" Kenji asked.

"I saw this symbol before," Ami said. "On one of the buildings we passed. The same circle. The same flame."

"So what?" Kenji said.

"I do not know," Ami said. "But it is interesting."

She put her notebook away and walked on.

The harbour was ahead of them.

The old warehouse stood next to the water.

It was a big building, made of dark stone.

Above the door, there was a sign: OLD PORTVILLE MUSEUM.

The museum was large and dark inside.

The windows were small, and the light was soft.

The floor was made of old wooden boards that made noise when the students walked on them.

"Listen carefully," Mr. Tanaka said.

He was standing at the front of the room.

"One hundred years ago, this warehouse stored goods from ships.

Salt, fish, pottery, and glass came in and out of this building every day.

The people of Portville were skilled workers.

They made beautiful things.

Today, we can see some of their work here."

The students looked around.

There were long glass cases on both sides of the room.

Inside the cases, there were old pots, bowls, tools, and bottles.

There were also old photographs on the walls.

The photographs showed the streets of Portville.

The streets looked the same, but the people were different.

The women wore long dresses. The men wore hats.

Ami walked slowly along one side of the room.

She was looking at everything carefully.

She stopped at a case of pottery.

The pots were beautiful.

They were covered in patterns: flowers, waves, birds, and circles.

And there it was again — the circle with the flame inside.

"Mr. Tanaka," Ami said. "This symbol — what does it mean?"

Mr. Tanaka came over and looked.

"Good eye, Ami. That is the mark of the Portville Craftsmen's Guild.

It was a group of workers — potters, glassmakers, and woodworkers — who worked together in this town about one hundred years ago.

They used this mark to show that their work was high quality."

"What happened to them?" Ami asked.

"The guild stopped working in the 1930s," Mr. Tanaka said. "The economy became very difficult.

Many craftsmen left the town.

Some of their work is still here, in this museum. But much of it was lost."

Ami wrote this in her notebook.

Then she looked up at the wall behind the pottery case.

There was a large wooden cabinet against the wall.

It was old and dark.

And on the wall behind the cabinet, just above the edge of the wood, she could see a symbol.

The circle with the flame.

But this symbol was different. It was not painted in a simple way.

It was larger — about the size of Ami's hand. And around it, there were small letters.

Ami moved closer to the cabinet. She tried to read the letters, but the cabinet was in the way.

She looked around.

Mr. Tanaka was talking to a group of students near the photographs.

Kenji was eating a biscuit from his bag.

Yuki was taking photos of a glass bottle.

Ami moved to the side of the cabinet. She could see more of the symbol now.

The letters said: PER LA LUCE. She did not know what language that was.

And then she saw something else.

Below the cabinet, near the floor, there was a line in the stone.

It was a thin line, almost impossible to see. But it made a shape.

It was a square. A trapdoor.

Ami's heart was beating fast. She looked around again. Nobody was watching her.

She bent down next to the cabinet and touched the stone.

The line was real. She could feel it under her fingers.

The stone inside the square was smooth, but the stone around it was rough.

Someone cut this, she thought. Someone made this door.

She stood up quickly when she heard Kenji's voice.

"Ami? What are you doing over there?"

"Come here," she whispered. "You too, Yuki. Come quietly."

Kenji and Yuki came over. Ami pointed at the floor.

"A door," Yuki said. Her eyes were wide.

"Shh," Ami said. "Not so loud."

"Where does it go?" Kenji asked.

"I do not know," Ami said. "Underground, maybe."

"Underground?" Kenji looked uncomfortable. "That does not sound good."

"It sounds exciting," Yuki said. She was already taking a photo of the floor.

"We cannot open it now," Ami said. "Mr. Tanaka is watching. We have to wait until the class moves to the next room."

They waited. Mr. Tanaka led the group to the back of the museum, through a door to the next section.

Ami stayed behind. She pretended to look at the pottery case. Kenji and Yuki stayed with her.

When the last student walked through the door, Ami moved quickly.

She got down on her knees and pushed the cabinet a little. It moved easily.

Someone had made it easy to move.

She looked at the trapdoor again. There was a small iron ring on one side.

She pulled it. The door was heavy, but it opened.

A wave of cool air came up from below. It smelled old, like stone and earth.

Below, there were stone steps going down into the dark.

"We should tell Mr. Tanaka," Kenji said.

"We will," Ami said. "After we look."

"What if we get lost?" Kenji asked.

"We have my phone," Yuki said. She turned on the flashlight. "Let's go."

Ami went first. The steps were narrow and steep.

She moved slowly, touching the stone wall on one side.

Yuki came next, holding the phone up so the light showed the way.

Kenji came last. He pulled the trapdoor above them. It closed with a soft sound.

The air was cool and quiet. There were no sounds from the museum above them.

"This is incredible," Yuki whispered.

"This is terrifying," Kenji whispered.

Ami smiled. Both things were true.

At the bottom of the steps, there was a long tunnel.

The walls were made of stone. The ceiling was low.

Kenji had to bend his head a little. The floor was flat and dry.

Yuki's phone light showed the tunnel ahead of them.

It went straight for a long way. Then there was a wooden door at the end.

"Someone built this a long time ago," Ami said. She was touching the wall.

"Look at these stones. They are very old.

But the floor is clean. There is no dirt on it. Someone cleaned this, maybe not so long ago."

"Maybe someone is down here now," Kenji said. His voice was very quiet.

"Nobody is down here," Yuki said. "Look at the door. There is no light under it. No one is inside."

They walked slowly to the door. The wood was old and dark, but it was strong.

There was a large iron handle on the front. Ami put her hand on it and looked at the others.

"Ready?" she said.

"No," Kenji said.

Ami opened the door anyway.

The room behind the door was large and dark. Much larger than Ami expected.

The phone light was not strong enough to show everything.

Yuki moved the light slowly from left to right, and they all looked.

It was a workshop.

On one side, there were two old pottery wheels, covered in dust.

On the shelves along the walls, there were pots, bowls, and tiles — hundreds of them.

Some were finished, painted in blue and green and white.

Some were half-finished, still grey with dry clay.

On the floor, there were old tools: brushes, knives, and wooden boards.

In the middle of the room, there was a long wooden desk.

On the desk, there were papers, old bottles of paint, and small glass objects.

A candle holder. A small glass bird. A bottle with a beautiful glass stopper.

And on the walls — everywhere on the walls — there were drawings.

Patterns for pottery. Flower designs. Wave designs. And more symbols: the circle with the flame.

"This was someone's workshop," Ami said. She was walking around slowly, looking at everything carefully.

"Look at all these pots. And the glass objects — this person was a glassmaker too."

"How long has this been here?" Yuki asked.

She was taking photos of the pots on the shelves.

"A very long time," Ami said. "Maybe one hundred years. Maybe more."

"Look at this," Kenji said. He was standing at the desk.

He picked up a small tin box with a lid. "It is not locked."

Ami came over quickly. Kenji opened the box.

Inside, there were letters. Old letters, written by hand.

The paper was yellow and thin. The handwriting was small and very careful.

Ami picked up the first letter. She began to read.

The letter was old, but the words were clear. Ami read it slowly out loud, so Kenji and Yuki could hear.

My name is Marco Rossi. I am a glassmaker.

I learned my craft from my father, and he learned from his father.

For thirty years, I made glass in this town.

I made windows for the church. I made bottles for the harbour.

I made beautiful things for the homes of Portville.

But now, the times are difficult. The guild is ending. Many craftsmen are leaving.

I am afraid for my work. My best pieces are not safe above the ground.

So I am bringing them here, to this room below the old warehouse.

I am leaving them here, where they will be safe.

One day, someone will find them. I hope that person loves beautiful things, as I do.

Below this room, there is another room. I call it the Light Room.

My best work is there. Follow the map on the north wall.

Marco Rossi, Glassmaker, Guild of Portville, March 1923.

Ami put down the letter. The room was very quiet.

"A light room," Yuki said. Her voice was soft.

"His best work," Kenji said.

"Below this room," Ami said.

They all looked at each other.

"The north wall," Ami said. "Which way is north?"

Kenji took out his phone and opened the compass. He turned around slowly. "That way." He pointed at the wall on the left side of the room.

They walked to it. The wall was covered with drawings — patterns and symbols and, at the far left side near the corner, a map.

It was drawn in black ink, directly on the stone wall. There were lines and arrows and small words.

"This is the tunnel," Ami said. She traced the lines with her finger.

"We came from here — the museum. And this is this room."

She pointed at a square on the map. "And here — " she pointed at a smaller shape in the corner " — this is the Light Room."

There was a line going from the workshop to the Light Room. It went to the right, through what looked like another door, then down, then left.

"It goes deeper," Kenji said.

"Yes," Ami said. She looked at the map one more time. She wanted to remember it.

Then she looked at Kenji and Yuki.

"Let's go," Yuki said.

"I knew you were going to say that," Kenji said. But he picked up his bag and followed them.

They found the next door on the right side of the workshop. It was behind a large wooden shelf.

Kenji helped Ami push the shelf away from the wall. Behind it, there was a low opening — not a proper door, but a gap in the stone wall, just big enough to walk through.

Ami went first. Then Yuki. Then Kenji, who had to bend down very low to get through.

He made a small unhappy sound when his backpack got stuck, but then it came free.

"Are you okay?" Ami asked.

"I am fine," Kenji said. "My bag is fine. Let us just find this room and go back up."

The tunnel on the other side was darker and lower than the first one.

The ceiling was almost touching Ami's head. The walls were wet. The floor was cold under their feet.

"This part is older," Ami said.

They walked forward, one step at a time.

They walked about thirty steps. Then they stopped.

Water was on the floor ahead of them.

It was not deep — just a few centimetres — but it covered the whole tunnel.

In the water, old stones had fallen from the ceiling. The tunnel was blocked.

"We cannot go that way," Kenji said.

He was looking at the water and the fallen stones. "It is too dangerous."

Ami stared at the blocked tunnel. She tried to remember the map on the wall.

There was something she noticed — a second line going to the Light Room. Not just one line. Two.

"Wait," she said. "There is another way. The map showed two paths. Let me think."

She closed her eyes for a moment. She remembered the map on the stone wall.

The first line went straight and then turned left. The second line started earlier — before the water — and went to the left first.

"Back," she said. "We have to go back a little."

They turned around and walked back the way they came.

Ami counted her steps. After fifteen steps, she stopped and looked at the left wall.

She moved the phone light slowly along the stone.

There it was. A low opening, smaller than the first one. She almost missed it the first time.

"Here," she said.

"That is very small," Kenji said.

"We can fit," Ami said.

She got down on her hands and knees and crawled through.

On the other side, she stood up again. The ceiling was low, but she could walk.

Yuki crawled through next. Then Kenji, slowly and carefully.

He made a small unhappy sound when his backpack got stuck, but then it came free.

The tunnel turned left. Then it went down — five stone steps, worn smooth from long ago.

Then it turned left again. The air was colder now. Ami could see her breath.

Drip. Drip. Water was falling somewhere in the dark.

"I do not like this sound," Kenji said.

"It is just water," Yuki said. "It is okay."

But then a different sound came. A low sound, like the earth itself was breathing.

All three of them stopped. For a moment, nobody moved.

Then the sound stopped. The tunnel was quiet again.

"What was that?" Kenji asked.

"Old buildings make noises," Ami said. She was not completely sure about this, but she said it in a calm voice.

"The stone moves a little sometimes. It is normal."

They walked on. The tunnel turned right.

And then, at the end of a short passageway, there was a door.

This door was different from the others. It was made of very dark wood, with wide iron bands across it.

It was old and heavy. On the front of the door, carved into the wood, was the circle with the flame.

Below the symbol, there were words carved carefully in the wood: PER LA LUCE.

The same words Ami saw upstairs, behind the cabinet.

"What does it mean?" Yuki asked. She was reading the words.

"I do not know," Ami said. "But I think we are about to find out."

She put both hands on the door and pushed. The door did not move.

Kenji came next to her. They pushed together. The door was very heavy and old.

The wood did not want to move. Then, slowly, it opened.

The room was completely dark at first. Yuki held up her phone. The light moved around the room.

And then they all stopped moving. They stopped breathing. They just looked.

The room was full of glass.

Large glass panels stood against the walls on all sides.

They were as tall as a person and as wide as a door.

Each one was made of many pieces of coloured glass, joined together in beautiful patterns.

Red and deep blue. Bright green and warm gold. Purple and orange and white.

The patterns showed flowers, birds, the sea, and the sun.

One panel showed a fish moving through deep water.

Another showed birds flying above orange clouds.

Another showed flowers growing along a white wall.

On a wooden table in the middle of the room, there were smaller glass objects: bowls, cups, small bottles, and sculptures.

There was a glass fish the size of Ami's hand.

There was a small glass tree with green leaves.

There was a tall blue bottle with a red stopper.

Each one was perfect. Each one was made with great care and skill.

"Marco's work," Ami said. Her voice was very quiet.

"It is incredible," Yuki said.

For the first time, she was not taking photos. She was just standing still, looking.

Even Kenji was quiet. He was standing in front of a large glass panel of a blue bird.

The bird's wings were open. It looked like it was flying.

"He made all of this?" Kenji said.

"Yes," Ami said. "And then he hid it down here. To keep it safe."

Above them, in the ceiling, there was a small rectangular window.

It was covered with old dirt and leaves. But a little light was coming through — thin and grey.

Ami looked at the window. She thought about Marco's name for this room: the Light Room.

"He designed this room for sunlight," she said.

"When the sun shines through that window, it hits the coloured glass. The whole room fills with light and colour."

She looked around the room for something to stand on.

Near the door, there was a wooden step — old and dusty, but solid.

She carried it to the middle of the room and stood on it. She reached up. The window was just above her fingers.

"Kenji," she said. "Can you help me?"

Kenji came over without saying anything. He linked his hands together.

Ami stepped on them carefully. Now she could reach the window easily.

She pushed at the edges of the window. Dirt and dust fell down into the room.

But then — the window moved a little. She pushed harder. It moved more.

"Almost," she said.

She pushed one more time. The window opened.

Light came into the room. Not the thin grey light from before — real sunlight.

Warm, bright afternoon sunlight, coming straight in through the open window.

It hit the glass panels on the walls. The room changed.

Red light moved across the floor in long lines.

Blue light covered the ceiling. Green and gold patterns appeared on the stone walls.

Purple and orange shapes danced in every corner.

The glass table in the middle of the room was surrounded by colour.

Marco's small glass sculptures — the fish, the tree, the tall blue bottle — all caught the light and threw small rainbows onto the floor.

The whole room was alive with colour and light.

Ami got down carefully from Kenji's hands. She stood in the middle of the room.

Colours moved over her face and her clothes and her hands.

She smiled.

"This is what he wanted," she said. "For someone to find this place and let in the light."

Nobody spoke for a moment.

The three friends stood together in Marco's Light Room, surrounded by his work, surrounded by colour.

Then Ami heard a voice from far above.

"Ami? Kenji? Yuki?"

It was Mr. Tanaka.

"Ami! Kenji! Yuki!" Mr. Tanaka's voice was louder now and worried. "Where are you? Answer me!"

"We are here!" Ami called up. "We are okay! We are under the museum!"

There was a long silence. Then Mr. Tanaka said, "Do not move. I am coming down."

Ami looked at Kenji. He looked at the floor. "Are we in a lot of trouble?" he asked.

"Maybe," Ami said.

They waited. It was quiet in the Light Room. The colours moved slowly on the walls as the light changed outside.

After about ten minutes, they heard footsteps in the tunnel. Then voices. Then Mr. Tanaka appeared at the door of the Light Room.

He was breathing hard and his hair was untidy.

Behind him came a woman in a grey jacket.

She was small and had short grey hair. She had sharp, intelligent eyes.

Mr. Tanaka looked at the three students. He looked at the room. He looked at the glass panels on the walls. He did not speak.

The woman in the grey jacket also stopped when she came through the door.

She stood very still. She looked at the glass panels. She looked at the table with the small glass objects.

She looked at the colours on the walls. She looked at everything for a long time.

"Marco Rossi," she said, finally. Her voice was very quiet.

"We always knew he worked in Portville. But we never found his best work. We thought it was gone forever."

"He brought it here," Ami said. "He hid it below the museum to keep it safe.

He left letters in the workshop above. And a map."

The woman looked at Ami. "You found the workshop too?"

"Yes. And the letters. And the map on the north wall."

The woman looked at her for a long moment. Then she smiled. It was a small smile, but a real one.

"You have very good eyes, young lady.

My name is Ms. Ogawa. I am the director of this museum."

Then Mr. Tanaka spoke. He looked at Ami, and then at Kenji, and then at Yuki. His face was serious.

"I understand why you came down here," he said. "And I am glad you are safe.

But next time — please tell me first."

"Yes, Mr. Tanaka," the three students said together.

Mr. Tanaka looked around the room one more time. He shook his head slowly.

But Ami could see something in his eyes — something that was not anger at all. He was amazed.

The next day, the news was everywhere.

Historians came from the city. Journalists came with cameras.

Photographs of the glass panels appeared on television and on websites.

People called it "the most important art discovery in the town's history."

The Light Room was full of people — careful people with white gloves and notebooks and cameras.

They measured everything. They photographed everything. They read Marco's letters again and again.

Ms. Ogawa was very busy, talking to everyone.

But she found time to give Ami, Kenji, and Yuki a special tour of the museum.

She took them to a small room at the back of the museum.

On the wall, there was an old black-and-white photograph.

It showed a thin man standing in front of a stone building.

He was wearing an apron. He had dark eyes and careful hands.

"Marco Rossi," Ms. Ogawa said.

"He was one of the greatest glassmakers in the country. But he never became famous in his own time.

He just worked quietly, making beautiful things."

Ami looked at the photograph for a long time.

"He knew his work was good," she said. "That is why he hid it. He wanted it to survive."

"Yes," Ms. Ogawa said. "And because of you, it did."

Yuki was happy. She was already planning her presentation for school.

Kenji was happy too — Ms. Ogawa gave them some biscuits from the museum café.

Ami was happy, but she was also quiet.

She was thinking about Marco Rossi, working alone in his underground room for all those years, making beautiful things for a future he could not see.

That evening, on the bus home, Ami looked out the window at Portville.

The sun was going down. The old stone buildings were golden and warm in the evening light.

The harbour was silver. The old gate looked strong and quiet.

She opened her notebook. She looked at the symbol she drew at the fountain — the circle with the flame.

She wrote underneath it: PER LA LUCE.

Then she took out her phone and searched for the words. Italian. It meant: FOR THE LIGHT.

She looked at the symbol again. Marco's mark. The mark of the guild.

A circle with a flame inside.

She understood it now.

The flame was not just fire. It was the light inside the glass.

The light in Marco's room. The light that filled the colours and made them alive.

Old things have secrets, her grandmother always said. You just have to look.

Ami closed her notebook, leaned her head against the window, and watched Portville disappear behind the hills.

She was already thinking about what she would find next.