Hades' Cursed Luna novel Chapter 51

Eve~

There was a skip in my step as we entered the Obsidian Tower, Hades right behind me. He accompanied me upstairs as I ranted on. I could mention the names of the Lycan artists who had created the masterpieces I had the honor of seeing and analyzing, and I deeply regretted not learning more about Obsidian Pack art. They were truly breathtaking.

I hadn’t felt like this in a long time—a very long time. It was like being back in a familiar place, surrounded by colors, shapes, and stories that spoke to my soul. My fingers itched to draw, to capture the emotions swirling inside me. I glanced over my shoulder at Hades, expecting to see his usual mask of indifference, but there was something different in his eyes. He wasn’t just tolerating my rambling; he was actually listening, or at least pretending better than usual.

"The way they use shadow in their work," I said breathlessly, stopping in front of a massive canvas that hung at the end of the hallway, "it’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen. It’s like... they’re painting with darkness itself."

Hades tilted his head slightly, his cold eyes narrowing as he studied the piece. "Darkness," he murmured, his voice low and smooth. "You’d think I’d be used to it by now."

I blinked, caught off guard by the unexpected comment. It was rare for him to share anything remotely personal, and for a moment, I wondered if he understood art in ways I hadn’t imagined.

"Have you ever painted?" I asked before I could stop myself.

His gaze snapped to mine, sharp as a blade, but instead of the cutting retort I expected, he simply shrugged. "No. But I can appreciate the control it takes to wield something as elusive as shadow."

I smiled, feeling a strange warmth bloom in my chest. Maybe he understood more than I gave him credit for.

As we continued walking down the hallway, I let my thoughts drift, wondering what it would be like to create something here, in this tower surrounded by shadows and ancient history. The possibilities stirred a longing in me, one I hadn’t felt in years.

"Perhaps I could sketch something tonight," I mused aloud, almost forgetting Hades was there. "I am brimming with ideas." As much as I was loving the pencil and the sketch pad, I itched for more instruments to express myself. But I couldn’t allow myself to let my hopes rise too high that this would become my new reality. I had to remember where I was. Today was a blessing, and I was more than grateful. Before that fateful night, I had taken things for granted, until I was no longer allowed to see or paint colors on a canvas. At the age of twenty-three, I was finally able to delve back into that world I had missed for so long.

He made no comment, but I could feel his presence looming behind me—a silent force that, despite everything, didn’t feel oppressive right now.

The elevator doors slid open to the floor where my room was as I continued to rant on. I couldn’t stop myself. I was high on excitement, so much so that even the Lycan king walking with me didn’t feel as daunting or unnerving as usual.

He opened the door for me. "Good night, Red," he murmured. His eyes were a bit distant.

"Thank you for tonight," I said, before stepping into my room, still giddy from the excitement of the evening, my mind spinning with visions of sketches and canvases. I flicked the light switch, expecting the same dim, empty room I’d left behind.