Nicole_6614

Amelia Cross is a lonely artist living in a cramped Brooklyn apartment, her only solace found in the canvases she tirelessly brings to life. One stormy night, she paints the girl she’s always dreamed of—serene, radiant, impossible. But when the paint starts to shimmer and the canvas pulses with light, the impossible becomes real.

Celeste steps out of the painting and into Amelia’s world, full of wonder and questions—and carrying pieces of a past she shouldn’t have. As the boundary between art and reality dissolves, Amelia and Celeste must navigate a bond born from longing, creation, and something far deeper than either of them understands.

But creations are not meant to last forever... unless love can rewrite the rules.

A story about identity, memory, and the magic of being seen—Painted in Starlight is a slow-burn sapphic romance wrapped in surreal mystery and emotional intimacy.

Painted in Starlight [GL]

The moment Celeste's blood touched the stone, the chamber reacted. Light burst from the carved sigils, spilling out in golden ribbons that snaked through the air, wrapping around her wrist, her fingers, her entire body. The warmth spread through her, pulsing in time with her heartbeat, and for a second—just a second—she felt as if she were floating.

It was like something deep within the earth had grabbed hold of her, yanking her downward—not physically, but spiritually. Her vision blurred at the edges. The symbols on the pedestal shone impossibly bright, casting shifting shadows across the chamber walls. The crack on her wrist—her constant reminder that she didn't belong—burned white-hot.

"Celeste!" Amelia's voice cut through the rising hum of energy. She tried to step forward, but Nathaniel caught her wrist, holding her back.

"Don't touch her," he warned. "Not yet."

Amelia wrenched against his grip. "She's in pain—"

"She's changing." Nathaniel's voice was steady, but his eyes betrayed something else. Worry.

Celeste barely heard them. She was drowning in sensation. The heat, the pull, the knowing. Images flooded her mind—fragments of memories that weren't hers. A woman with her same eyes, standing in this very chamber, carving symbols into the stone with practiced hands. A whispered promise.

She opened her mouth—to call out, to ask—but the words never came. The pressure in the room reached a breaking point, the golden light swelling until it was everywhere, until it was inside her—

The magic collapsed in on itself, the golden ribbons retreating into the pedestal, leaving only the faint glow of the carved sigils. Celeste swayed, the connection severing so abruptly that it left her gasping.

Amelia broke free of Nathaniel's grip and caught her before she could fall. "Celeste? Talk to me."

Celeste's breaths came in ragged pulls. The burning in her wrist was gone. The crack was gone. She turned her palm over, staring at the smooth, unblemished skin where it had once been.

Her heart hammered as realization crashed over her.

Amelia cradled her face, searching her eyes. "Are you okay?"

Celeste let out a breathless, almost disbelieving laugh. "I think so."

Nathaniel watched her carefully, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, he exhaled. "It worked."

Amelia turned on him, still brimming with adrenaline. "You knew this would happen?"

"I hoped it would," he corrected. "There was no guarantee."

Amelia shot him a glare, but Celeste barely registered it. Her whole body felt different. Lighter. More real. The pull in her chest—the ever-present whisper that told her she didn't belong—was gone.

She met Nathaniel's gaze, her voice steady for the first time in what felt like forever.

Nathaniel's lips pressed into a thin line. "Now?" He cast a glance at the ancient symbols around them. "Now, we find out what else your mother left behind."

Chapter Forty-Four