While Siris moved toward the mansion with Royal insignia, something else was happening inside.
The sound of brush gliding over the canvas, slow and reverent, was the only sound heard inside a chamber lit by dim candlelight.
She was sitting on a stool.
Selena Velmoria.
She sat with poise, one hand balancing the pallet while the other, holding a paintbrush, moved carefully across the canvas.
Each stroke of paint whispered obsession—deliberate and smooth as if anything less than perfection would be a sin.
Before her bloomed an image that had taken root in her mind and refused to leave.
Raven Von Vaise.
He stood in the center of the painting, posture unyielding. He had a sword's blade in his palm, and despite his black scale-covered arm being cut through, he didn't let go of the blade.
His gaze was unwavering as he looked ahead defiantly.
Blood trailed down his arm, but his face wore that maddening smirk—cool, composed, and painfully radiant.
