“Truth hides in the strangest places—sometimes, even in the cracks of a lie.”
The air in Amalina’s apartment was thick with the smell of paint and varnish, but there was something else—something intangible. Amelia couldn’t place it, but it felt heavy, almost oppressive.
“Welcome to my little sanctuary,” Amalina said, gesturing around with a wide smile.
Thomas muttered under his breath, “Little, she says.”
The walls were covered in paintings, each more mesmerizing than the last. Landscapes that seemed to move, portraits so lifelike they felt like they were watching, and abstract swirls of color that tugged at something deep inside Amelia.
But one painting caught her attention immediately—a large canvas at the center of the room, glowing faintly. The colors swirled and pulsed, like it was alive.
“Do you like it?” Amalina asked, noticing Amelia’s stare.
Amelia hesitated. “It’s… beautiful, but…”