Mira gritted her teeth as she looked at the woman in the painting. She wore a flowing gown the color of a deep shade of blue, caught mid-movement in a sweeping dance pose — one foot lifted, arms extended like wings, hair trailing like a comet behind her. Her expression was serene yet powerful, as though she belonged to a world just beyond the grasp of the viewer. She didn't look like a girl caught in a moment of dance — she looked like she was flying.
Lara stopped, blinking. Her breath hitched in her throat.
"That's me…" she murmured. "During the dance I performned At Calma"
"Yes. That's from the banquet from Calma." Reuben said softly, stepping beside her. "I commissioned it after that night. The artist saw something in your movements — something rare."
Mira remained silent, standing just behind Lara, her fingers tightening around the folds of her sleeves. She wasn't sure whether she felt admiration, awe… or envy.
