Chapter 89 Call Of The Moon

• [MAGNUS]
• As I add the final strokes to the canvas, Alistair steps forward, his voice cutting through the quiet air of the gallery. “Lady Celia has arrived,” he informs me in his usual calm tone.
• I pause, setting the brush down with care. I step back, my gaze fixed on the painting in front of me, trying to soak in what I’ve just done. It feels strange — almost foreign — to stand here and look at something I’ve created with my own hands after all these years.