Chapter 7
Another month had gone by, with total 10 months, almost a year and I’d grown more used to the town, to the language, to the rhythm of life here Florence had begun to feel less like a stranger and more like a quiet companion–one who didn’t demand much but let me heal in silence.
And also, my birthday is coming in couple of days. The day I hate the most and never eager
to
celebrate.
Still, I had no close friends. No one who knew me well. But maybe that was for the best. Some pain was easier to bear alone.
The money I’d earned from my part–time job at the library had finally allowed me to move into a dorm room of my own. It was small but peaceful. Most importantly, I no longer had to worry about muffling my tears at night.
Because, truth be told, I still cried.
Nightmares came and went, some more vivid than others–memories of Ruben’s rejection, the day I watched him announce his mating to another, the silent agony Mika left behind when she disappeared. I was still broken in places I didn’t show during the day.
On Sunday, the weather was mild, and I felt brave enough to step out on my own for something more than errands or classes.
I wandered the winding streets until I stumbled upon a small museum nestled between old buildings. It didn’t look like much from the outside, but something about it drew me in.
Inside, it was quiet. Dusty. Forgotten.
I moved slowly from one artifact to another until I reached a back hallway hidden behind a velvet rope.
The air changed slightly–more… wolf–like.
That’s when I saw it.
A faded painting, nearly swallowed by time and shadows. It was tucked behind a cracked glass pane, in a dim corner most humans wouldn’t think to
look.
But I wasn’t just human.
The woman in the portrait had the kind of beauty you didn’t forget. Her eyes held softness but strength, her posture regal even with the worn edges of
the frame.
She had deep honey–blonde hair cascading in soft waves, a smile that could silence storms, and something about her presence made my chest tighten.
“Anastasia Vallery Lycaon,” came a voice behind me.
I turned and found an old guard standing nearby, his graying beard and soft eyes giving away more kindness than most strangers would show.
“She was our Luna,” he said gently, “many years ago. The Alpha’s mate.”
His words sent a chill through me.
His mate…
“She was beautiful,” I whispered when studying her, it was the first I ever saw her and know why she could make the Alpha fall in love to her.
“She was…
everything.” He smiled sadly. “The humans never knew what or who she was. The werewolves, though… we all remember. That painting was hidden long ago after she passed.” He give me a sad smile before leaving me alone who keep staring at the beautiful old painting in front of me.
Without thinking, I sat on the cold floor, pulled out my sketchbook, and started drawing.
Something about her wouldn’t let me walk away.
16:49 Sat, 12 Jul T GO
Chapter 7
I had to bring her back to life on paper.
Time slipped through my fingers like sand. I didn’t even realize the museum was closing until the guard returned, his footsteps gentle.
“You’re still here?” His voice snaps me and I quickly look up to see him “We’re closing,” he said kindly.
“Oh! I’m sorry,” I scrambled to pack up my things.
He only nodded, watching the beginning of the sketch with curiosity.
That night, back in my dorm, I couldn’t stop thinking about her. Anastasia. The Luna. The only woman the Alpha ever loved.
Without hesitation, I pulled out my painting supplies.
For six days, I painted.
I didn’t sleep much. Between classes, work, and my own exhaustion, I still found time to paint her. Not the faded version. No. I painted her as she was- vibrant, powerful, breathtaking.
Her honey hair glowing under the sunlight I imagined shining on her. Her eyes, kind but fierce. She was a Luna, and wanted to show that.
I poured all of myself into that canvas.
And when I finished it, I rolled it carefully and returned to the museum. The old guard was there, surprised to see me again.
When I unfurled the painting, his mouth parted in shock.
“Moon Goddess…” he murmured, gently touching the edges of the canvas. “It’s her.”
I only smiled, the exhaustion finally catching up to me. “I hope… I hope it helps. I just thought the Alpha might want to remember her the way she truly
was.”
The guard looked at me then–not as a student or a visitor, but as something else.
He bowed slightly, not in formality, but in reverence.
“I will need to ask for permission before it’s displayed,” he said. “No portrait of the Luna has been touched since she died. The Alpha… he hasn’t spoken her name in years.”
I nodded. “I understand.”
I didn’t expect anything to come from it. I didn’t do it for recognition or praise.
But what I didn’t know–what I couldn’t have known–was what this small act would stir.
Back at the Pack house, when the guard informed Beta Alfonso of the new portrait, the Beta raised a brow. “Who did this?”
“The new girl who study art. It’s her hand, no doubt.”
Beta Alfonso look surprise and mesmerize by the beauty of the painting she makes.
There’s only one person, one she–wolf, who study art here, Ellaine.
He now understands why she got the art scholarship; her works is amazing and he just saw two of her works which turn more than amazing.
Looking up, to where the Alpha usually hide himself, he braced himself to go to show this to him. Knowing he must be stun like him when he sees this. When the Beta showed the painting to Alpha Francesco, silence stretched across the room.
16:49 Sat, 12 Jul
Chapter 7
His fingers brushed the canvas, and for a moment, ne rad
“She painted her?” he said softly, voice low like gravel.
His gaze didn’t leave the canvas for a long time. Not even when the Beta cated His name.
And that night–though no one would know why the Lycan Alphs owed Bath the meda, lang and lew urll the wees in the
silent in respect.
As for me, I returned to my quiet dorm.
I didn’t hear anything back
But something in the air felt… different. Like a current had shifted. Like something sleeping for a long time had finally stirred.
}
Comment
