The painting That Changed Everything

Chapter 1: The Painting That Changed Everything

Avery Cole dipped her brush into the deep red paint, dragging it carefully across her canvas. The color spread like a sunset bleeding across the sky. She stepped back to admire her work — a nearly finished painting of the Golden Gate Bridge, glowing red-orange against a stormy sky.

"That's not bad," Avery muttered to herself, chewing her bottom lip. The bridge's steel towers stretched high above dark waters. In her painting, heavy gray clouds swirled above it, and shadows seemed to crawl across the waves.

Why does it look so... eerie?

Avery shook her head. She had meant to paint a peaceful scene — something she could sell at the local art fair. But somehow, her hand had kept adding dark shades and strange shapes. There were twisted figures in the water, barely visible but impossible to ignore.

Weird...

Pushing the thought away, Avery cleaned her brushes and packed up her things. She glanced at the clock on her phone — nearly 10 p.m.

"Great," she sighed. "I stayed way too late again."

Her tiny apartment wasn't far, but walking alone at night in San Francisco always made her uneasy. She stuffed her sketchbook into her bag, grabbed her coat, and hurried out of the studio.

The streets were quieter than usual. Most shops had their lights off, and the cold air bit at Avery's face. She walked fast, her boots tapping loudly on the sidewalk.

Halfway home, she spotted a shortcut — a narrow alley that would save her ten minutes. She usually avoided dark paths like this, but tonight she felt too tired to care.

"I'll be fine," she whispered, stepping into the alley.

The air seemed colder here, and shadows stretched across the walls. As she walked deeper, Avery noticed flickering candlelight glowing from a window above. Curious, she glanced up. A strange symbol — a twisted circle with jagged lines — was painted on the glass. Dark shapes moved inside, and faint voices murmured in a language she didn't recognize.

Just keep walking... she told herself.

But her curiosity got the best of her. She crept closer to the window and peeked inside.

The room was packed with people in dark robes. Candles burned on a table in the center, their flames dancing wildly. A man with silver hair stood at the head of the table, chanting. In his hand, he held a black crystal that seemed to pulse with an eerie red light.

Suddenly, the man's head snapped up — and his eyes locked onto Avery's.

"Hey!" a voice shouted from inside.

Avery stumbled back, her heart pounding. The door flew open, and a tall man with sharp features stormed out.

"You shouldn't be here!" he snarled, reaching for her.

Avery turned and ran. Her breath came in short gasps as she sprinted down the alley, her boots slipping on damp pavement. She didn't dare look back.

When she finally reached her apartment building, she fumbled with her keys, nearly dropping them. Her hands shook as she shoved the door open and bolted inside.

That night, Avery couldn't sleep. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw that glowing crystal — and the twisted faces of the people inside that room.

Sometime after midnight, she finally drifted off... but her dreams were far from peaceful.

She stood on the Golden Gate Bridge, wrapped in thick fog. The air smelled salty, and cold wind whipped her hair around her face.

"Help us..." whispered a voice.

A shadowy figure appeared at the edge of the bridge — then another... and another. Dozens of dark shapes crawled out of the fog, their faces pale and hollow.

"Help us..." they moaned again.

Avery tried to run, but her feet felt stuck to the pavement. The figures reached for her, their icy fingers brushing her arms.

"Stop!" she cried out. "I don't know how to help you!"

"You must stop them..." one of the figures rasped.

"Stop who?" Avery asked.

Before they could answer, a terrible sound tore through the air — a deep growl that seemed to shake the entire bridge. Something huge moved in the shadows, its glowing red eyes locking onto Avery.

She gasped — and woke up in her bed, heart racing. Sweat dripped down her face, and her hands were ice-cold.

It was just a dream... just a dream...

But as she sat up, her eyes landed on her sketchbook — the one she had packed in her bag earlier that night. It lay open on her desk, and her heart stopped.

She hadn't drawn the picture on the page.

The black crystal from the ritual stared back at her, sketched in perfect detail.?

Avery stared at the sketchbook, her pulse pounding in her ears. The drawing was sharp and detailed — the jagged edges of the black crystal, the eerie red glow at its core. It looked exactly like what she'd seen through the window.

"But I... I didn't draw this," she whispered.

Her fingers trembled as she touched the page. The lines were smudged, as if the charcoal had been drawn just minutes ago. She glanced at her hands — no charcoal stains.

Maybe I drew it half-asleep... she told herself. But that didn't explain how she'd captured every tiny detail so perfectly.

A cold gust rattled her window. Avery jumped, spinning toward the sound. The fog outside seemed thicker than usual, swirling like restless smoke. For a moment, she swore she saw a shadow standing just beyond the glass.

She blinked, and it was gone.

"I need some sleep," she muttered, flipping the sketchbook closed. She shoved it into her desk drawer, as if hiding it would make everything normal again.

But sleep didn't come easily. Her mind kept replaying those haunting words from her dream.

"Help us... Stop them..."

---

The next morning, Avery woke feeling groggy and drained. Her apartment felt colder than usual, and a faint headache throbbed behind her eyes.

She stumbled to the kitchen, started her coffee maker, then reached for her phone. A new notification flashed across her screen:

BREAKING NEWS: Body Found Near Golden Gate Bridge — Police Investigating Strange Markings

A chill crawled down Avery's spine. She clicked the link.

 Early this morning, authorities discovered the body of a local fisherman near the Golden Gate Bridge. The victim was found with an unusual symbol carved into his skin. Police are investigating the incident as a possible cult-related crime.

Avery's stomach twisted.

The symbol... was it the same one I saw last night?

She couldn't sit still. Grabbing her coat and sketchbook, she left her apartment, determined to find answers.

---

The morning air was crisp and damp as Avery made her way toward the marina. Police tape blocked off part of the pier, but that wasn't what caught her attention.

Near the edge of the dock, a group of candles flickered in the breeze. Wax dripped down their sides, pooling around a chalk symbol — the same symbol Avery had seen on the window last night.

Her breath hitched.

"You shouldn't be here," a voice said behind her.

Avery spun around and found herself face-to-face with a man in a dark leather jacket. He looked like he belonged in an action movie — sharp jawline, messy brown hair, and eyes that seemed too serious for someone his age.

"Excuse me?" Avery asked.

"You were at the club last night," the man said, his voice low. "I saw you."

Avery's heart jumped. "I... I don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't lie." His eyes narrowed. "That symbol? It's not something you want to mess with."

Avery clutched her sketchbook tightly. "Who are you?"

The man hesitated, then said, "Liam. Liam Kane."

"And how do you know about this?" she asked, pointing to the symbol.

Liam's face hardened. "Because I've been hunting the people who made it."

"Hunting?" Avery repeated, her voice shaky.

"You don't understand," Liam said, stepping closer. "The people you saw last night — they're dangerous. And if you don't stay away, they're going to come after you."

Avery opened her mouth to argue, but a cold gust swept through the air, and her breath turned to mist.

Liam tensed. "They're already watching."

"Who's watching?" Avery asked.

He didn't answer. Instead, he grabbed her arm and pulled her back from the dock.

"We need to go," Liam said. "Now."

"What? Why?"

Before he could answer, a low whisper drifted through the air.

"Help us..."

Avery froze.

"You heard that, didn't you?" she whispered.

Liam's expression turned grim. "Yeah," he muttered. "I heard it."

Suddenly, the candles on the dock flared brighter — then the flames shot upward, twisting into the shape of a snarling face.

A deep growl echoed through the air, and dark tendrils of smoke slithered from the burning symbol, crawling across the pavement like living shadows.

"Run," Liam said.

A cold hand clutched Avery's wrist — but when she turned, no one was there. The shadowy tendrils stretched toward her, curling like fingers.

"Avery, run!" Liam barked.

This time, she didn't hesitate. Avery sprinted after Liam, her heart pounding in her chest. Behind her, the whispering voices grew louder — desperate, pleading cries that seemed to follow her every step.

They didn't stop until she and Liam reached the end of the street.

"Okay... okay... what the hell was that?" Avery gasped, bending over to catch her breath.

"That?" Liam said darkly. "That was just the beginning."

Avery's legs ached as she and Liam hurried down the narrow streets of San Francisco. Fog twisted through the alleys, clinging to her skin like cold fingers. Even though they'd left the burning symbol behind, Avery couldn't shake the feeling that something — or someone — was still following them.

Liam didn't slow down until they reached a small café tucked between two shops. The glowing "OPEN" sign flickered in the window, and soft music played inside.

"We'll be safe here," Liam muttered, guiding Avery through the door.

A bell jingled above them as they entered. The warm scent of coffee filled the air, but Avery barely noticed. Her mind was racing.

"Okay," she said breathlessly, "you need to start talking. Right now."

Liam grabbed a table in the corner, away from the windows. He ran a hand through his hair and sighed.

"Those people you saw last night?" Liam began. "They're part of a cult — the Circle of Ebon Fire. They've been trying to break the barrier between our world and... something worse."

"Something worse?" Avery repeated, her voice shaky.

"Demons," Liam said flatly. "The kind that don't just haunt people — they destroy them."

Avery stared at him, barely able to process his words. "And what does that have to do with me?"

Liam leaned forward. "I don't know yet. But whatever you saw last night — that crystal, that symbol — they're not finished with it. They're gathering power, and they're using San Francisco's landmarks as channels for dark energy. The Golden Gate Bridge... Alcatraz... places with history. They're all part of it."

Avery swallowed hard. "But... but I'm just an artist."

"You're more than that," Liam said firmly. "If you weren't, they wouldn't care about you."

Avery's mind spun. "But I didn't do anything!"

Liam tapped her sketchbook. "Then explain this."

She froze. Slowly, she opened the book to the page with the drawing of the crystal. The jagged black stone stared back at her, and beneath it, something new had appeared — faint scribbles in shaky handwriting.

Help us... before the blood moon rises.

"I didn't write that," Avery whispered.

"I know," Liam said grimly. "But I'm guessing someone else did."

The café door opened with a sharp ding.

A man stepped inside, tall and thin with a sharp face and cold eyes. His long coat seemed too heavy for the mild weather, and he carried an old leather bag slung over his shoulder. His gaze swept the café before locking onto Avery.

"That's one of them," Liam muttered.

"What?" Avery's heart jumped.

"Get up," Liam whispered. "Slowly."

They rose from their seats just as the man started toward them.

"Go out the back," Liam ordered.

"What about you?"

"I'll handle him. Just go."

Before Avery could argue, Liam stepped between her and the stranger.

"You're wasting your time," Liam said coldly.

"You can't stop what's coming," the man sneered. "The barrier is weakening. Soon, your little tricks won't matter."

"I said — leave her alone," Liam growled.

Avery didn't wait to hear more. She rushed toward the back of the café, heart pounding. The alley door creaked open, and she burst outside into the cold air.

She barely made it five steps before something grabbed her wrist.

"I wouldn't run if I were you," a low voice warned.

Avery spun around to face a second man — broad-shouldered with tattoos creeping up his neck. His grip tightened painfully.

"Let me go!" Avery shouted, twisting her arm.

"You should've minded your own business," the man growled. "But now... well, my friends are very interested in you."

A dark mist began curling around his fingers — cold and oily against her skin. Avery's breath caught. Her arm felt like ice, and her vision blurred.

"Don't fight it," the man whispered. "It's easier that way."

"Get away from her!"

Suddenly, Liam charged out of the café, slamming into the man with full force. The stranger hit the wall hard, the dark mist vanishing instantly.

"Run!" Liam barked, grabbing Avery's hand.

They sprinted down the alley, weaving through narrow streets. Avery's head spun, and her wrist still felt numb where the man had grabbed her.

"What... what was that?" she stammered.

"Shadow magic," Liam said grimly. "And it's only going to get worse."

They reached an old brick building at the edge of the neighborhood. Liam unlocked a steel door and ushered her inside.

"You're staying here tonight," Liam said firmly. "It's safe. For now."

The room was cluttered with maps, books, and strange weapons — silver daggers, vials of glowing liquid, and charms made from bones and feathers.

"You live here?" Avery asked, glancing around.

"More like... hide here," Liam muttered. "It's not pretty, but it's better than letting those creeps drag you off."

Avery sat down on the worn-out couch, her mind spinning.

"I still don't understand," she said softly. "Why me?"

Liam hesitated. "I don't know yet," he admitted. "But whatever's happening... you're part of it now."

Avery pulled her sketchbook onto her lap and stared at the drawing of the crystal again.

Help us... before the blood moon rises.

"I think someone's trying to warn me," Avery said. "But I don't know what they want."

Liam's expression darkened. "I do."

He grabbed a book from the shelf and flipped it open, revealing an old illustration of the Golden Gate Bridge — but in the drawing, the water beneath it churned with shadowy figures. Dark shapes clung to the pillars, and at the heart of it all was the same black crystal.

"They're planning a ritual," Liam said. "One that could break the barrier between our world and theirs. If they finish it by the blood moon..."

"What happens?" Avery asked quietly.

Liam met her gaze. "San Francisco won't survive."