Surrendered To The Lord Of Sin-Chapter 81: Dark strokes

At the far crest of one of the hills, jagged shapes began to rise beneath her uncertain strokes. The lines were crooked at first, but soon gathered into something unmistakable: a towering black castle perched upon the summit like a wound in the landscape.

Its spires clawed upward into the painted sky, swallowing the pale silver light she had laid there before.

Lucrezia’s breath slowed as she worked the brush, moving with a strange urgency she did not quite understand. And at every stroke, the castle grew darker and much colder.

She wanted to stop, yet at the same time, Lucrezia was suspended between fascination and unease.

Her hand shifted toward the left side of the hill, and with careful strokes of charcoal-black paint, she shaped the figure of a man standing alone at the edge of the slope. The figure was small compared to the towering fortress behind him, yet something was commanding in the way he stood.

Lucrezia’s heart raced wildly against her chest when she added the staff in his hand next. The staff seemed almost to root him to the ground, as if it were a part of him rather than a simple object, before the raven.

Her brush softened as she painted the bird perched upon the man’s shoulder. Even in such a small form, she found herself adding careful details like the sharp curve of its beak, and the glint of light against its dark feathers.

She made the raven’s head tilt slightly, just like she’d dreamt. The memory haunted the back of her mind, and she carved what she could remember with a beating heart.

Finally, almost hesitantly, Lucrezia dipped her brush into a thin streak of crimson and added two small strokes of red.

The world seemed to still as she froze. Even in the imperfect strokes of her amateur hand, the effect was unsettling.

The eyes burned against the dark paint of his figure, glowing faintly beneath the painted sky that she forced herself to breathe.

Oh gods...

She leaned back slowly as her chest tightened. The drawing was flawed, with its proportions uneven, the castle too jagged, and the hills too rough in shape, and yet... A chill crawled down her spine after.

It took Lucrezia a good minute to get herself together, because despite all its imperfections, the image felt disturbingly real.

Lucrezia swallowed.

It was supposed to appear as an ordinary painting, but for a moment, it felt as though he were looking directly at her.

"Hmm, that’s... fascinating," Vespera’s voice broke her off the spell, making her flinch more than necessary.

Lucrezia quickly disguised it with an awkward chuckle. "T-Thank you,"

"Honestly, I wouldn’t think of such for an amateur. It may look..." A sudden pause followed when Vespera peered closer, observing the painting closely.

One moment, the air was filled with admiration, and the next, the silence that came after became utterly wrong.

Lucrezia was suddenly torn between her craft and Vespera whose expression looked disturbing. For a moment, she would’ve laughed it off, but as seconds turned into minutes, she realized something wasn’t right.

After minutes that felt like years, she forced herself to speak. "Is everything okay?"

Vespera blinked, as if returning from a distant thought. Her eyes drifted back to Lucrezia.

"It’s just..." she said slowly, gesturing toward the canvas, "I was wondering where the idea came from."

The abrupt question threw her off guard like a slap to her face. It was either the question itself that made her shiver or the manner in which it was asked.

"I..." she faltered, scrambling for something that sounded believable. Where did the idea come from? Her dream. Nightmare, to be precise, but Lucrezia could definitely not tell her so. "I... just... it..." Oh gods. "It reminded me of a painting I saw earlier today." She gestured vaguely. "The one with the cliffs... near Blackvale’s ridges."

The explanation came out rushed, but she forced a small smile afterward as if it were the most ordinary answer in the world. The last thing she wanted was to cause unnecessary suspicion, although it also made her curious.

"I see," Vespera nodded at last, the earlier expression vanished into thin air. What plastered across her face was neutrality and an utter naturalistic beam. "Well, it’s a striking piece,"

Lucrezia gave a small smile in return. Though it didn’t mean the air didn’t suddenly become uncomfortable.

She saw the way she looked at the painting. She couldn’t deny the sense of familiarity written all over her expression. Lucrezia would’ve shrugged it off, but a part of her... that unmistakable part of her believed that this lady knew something about the painting.

And she was determined to find out.

***

For the next few hours after they departed the gallery, they wandered about the fair, doing, watching, and admiring new things.

Lanterns had already begun to glow as dusk crept across the sky, string after string of golden lights swaying above the crowded lanes. Music drifted through the air from somewhere deeper within the square as lutes and fiddles blended with laughter and the clatter of merchants calling out their wares.

Lucrezia allowed herself to sink into the liveliness of it all.

Vendors lined the paths with bright fabrics, carved trinkets, jars of honeyed sweets, and polished bits of glass that caught the lantern light like scattered stars. Children darted between the stalls while performers juggled rings of fire in an open clearing.

"Try this," Vespera said suddenly, holding out a small stick coated with spun sugar.

Lucrezia blinked. "What is it?"

"A festival sweet,"

She accepted it cautiously and took a small bite. The sugar dissolved almost instantly on her tongue, leaving behind a bright burst of honey.

Her eyes widened. "Oh."

Vespera smirked faintly. "I’ll assume that means you approve."

Lucrezia laughed softly, and for a moment the strange heaviness from earlier seemed to loosen its grip.

They moved through the fair at an unhurried pace, stopping to watch a troupe of dancers spin across a wooden stage. Their skirts flared like blooming flowers as drums pounded in rhythmic bursts. Yet even as she watched them, Lucrezia’s thoughts wandered back to the gallery, to the painting, and to the way Vespera had looked at it.

Now and then, she stole a glance at the lady beside her. How much did she know? What did she know about the painting? Or did she know anything at all?

"You’ve gone quiet again," Vespera noted.

Lucrezia quickly pulled her face away, feigning an obvious glance over at her this time. "H-Have I?"

"Mm."

For a second she considered asking outright.

Do you know him? The man in the painting.

But the words stuck stubbornly in her throat. Instead, she gestured toward a nearby stall where rows of carved figurines sat displayed across a wooden table. "Look at those," She said, and thankfully, her attention seemed to shift its course.

The figures were beautifully crafted as tiny wolves, hawks, and horses shaped from polished dark wood. When Lucrezia peered closer, she realized the ravens carved among them.

Her breath caught.

One in particular stood near the edge of the display. Its wings were folded neatly against its body, head tilted slightly to the side, just like she had painted.

Lucrezia stared at it longer than she meant to.

"Interesting choice," Vespera said quietly beside her.

Lucrezia hadn’t realized she’d picked it up until then. "I didn’t—" She began, then stopped, as her voice suddenly became constricted. The wooden bird felt strangely cold in her palm.

Above them, somewhere in the sky, a real raven cried out. The sharp sound sliced through the music and chatter of the fair, sending shivers down her spine.

Lucrezia slowly lifted her gaze toward the rooftops. For the briefest moment, she thought she saw a dark figure standing on a distant ridge beyond the lantern-lit square, but when she blinked, the hill was empty.