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I paint until there are is no more room to work, every inch of space in my studio filled with my art in various stages of drying. When I finally take a step back to admire everything I’ve created, I feel an overwhelming sense of satisfaction.
In just the short time I’ve been here, I’ve managed to create in a way I never have before. Bringing to life more ideas and visions than I even thought possible.
Many of the paintings depict places that I once traveled to with Father, others are simply stolen from daydreams. Each piece is filled with warmth, joy, and the vibrancy of life ...
Exactly what this palace is missing.
Realizing that my paintings should no longer be constrained to this one room, I set out to hang them throughout the empty rooms and halls.
My time here may be limited, but I intend to leave a piece of myself behind for Death. So that, hopefully, he will never have to feel so cold or alone here again.
As I hang each of my pieces, I feel a little bit of warmth and life spread throughout the palace. I’m unable to stop the smile that pulls at my lips as I work.
Until I’m only left with one final piece.
Death’s portrait.
I stare at it for a long moment, wondering where I should hang it. It seems appropriate to hang it in the main room, centered over the fireplace, but I cannot bring myself to do it. Perhaps a more intimate setting, such as his private chambers, would be more suitable …
I blush at the thought of my painting hanging over his bed before dismissing it almost immediately.
Sighing, I realize that I’m simply reluctant to have it gone from my studio.
Centering it on my easel, I tilt my head to one side as I run my eyes over Death’s form before reaching for my paintbrush once again.
No, I’m quite ready to part with this one.
Not yet.
22
Death
Istand outside the quaint little house, my eyes slowly taking it all in. On the surface, it is surprisingly charming for a human home, though a bit overgrown for my taste. However, a darkness has settled over it that has my lip curling up in disgust.
My shadows twist around me in displeasure.
This is not a house of welcoming, not a darkness born of pain and necessity, but one of brutality and hate.
Where I must be cruel for the sake of those around me, there is joy taken from it here.
No,thisdarkness holds no beauty.
As I move closer, the true state of the girl’s home becomes ever more apparent, and I wonder how she could have ever lived in a place like this.
Sighing deeply, I step into the house.
A woman paces next to a cold fireplace, her hands tearing at her hair as she talks to herself. I watch her quietly, the darkness that rolls off her in heavy waves, sickening.
“That stupid girl,” the woman mutters to herself. “As soon as I find her, I will make her rue the very day she was born. Lord Payne will be the least of her worries, mark my words.”
I take a step closer, allowing my presence to fill the room as if daring her to continue.
She pauses, her brow furrowing, as she slowly turns toward me. I see fear flicker in her eyes, though I know she cannot see me.
Not unless I wish it.
Still, I enjoy saturating the room with myself, letting her feel the cold touch of death wafting about her. My shadows leech toward her, wrapping around her ankles and slithering their way up her body.
