For a mont, Evangeline thought she had sohow stood in front of a mirror and locked eyes with Hades. Only after she turned back to make sure he wasn’t in the room with her did she realize it was a portrait— a very well done one at that, as it felt so alive it was as if she could feel the warmth of his skin painted underneath the canvas.
But such a beautiful painting... why was it hidden?
When she took a step backward and lifted her chin, she was faced with another portrait, one that felt older and dustier, which also caught her eye.
They were all the sa size, covered by the sa cloth that had darkened due to age, with the only exception being the fra pressed against the fabric, looking slightly different on each portrait.
Judging by the first portrait, she wondered if the rest of the paintings were all the sa... all portraits of Hades.
Chills creep under her skin as she turned to the other portraits, blanking as she stared at it. Curiosity and adrenaline urges her to see the rest of the portraits, as if the devil had just whispered to her ears, instructing her of the truth she feels she shouldn’t open.
But before she realized it, Evangeline moved on to the next fra, pulling away the cloth. Then the next. And the next. She kept uncovering everything within her reach until she reached the oldest portrait she could manage, and once again, it was Hades.
No. In fact, everything was him.
Every portrait in the room, hundreds of them, was Hades, each captured at a different age, in different clothing, with different hairstyles and poses.
"How many are these..." she whispered, tilting her head up toward the ceiling. It was more than ten, more than a hundred. Would it even be an exaggeration to say there were six hundred?
Were these painted every year?
But that didn’t make sense, she thought with a deepening frown.
If all of these were truly him, how could his hair grow long and then be cut short again within a single year?
That would an... all of these were the real him.
Not years apart.
Centuries.
"It can’t be... right... I heard paintings have years on them... nas of the artist and the year it’s painted on..." Evangeline whispered to herself, quickly pulling the oldest portrait with the long haired Cassius.
She gulped nervously as she looked into the portrait, almost sorry, she turned the canvas around to see the writings in it.
1230, Sumr-
Evangeline’s eyes widened at once, the shock causing for her fingers to loosen the canvas and like the painting that had crashed to the checkered floor, her heart also shattered from the shock.
When she heard the sound of footsteps, Evangeline flinched.
She didn’t know what to do with the portraits. Covering them now was too late and although she knew that running away wouldn’t help either, she turned around and imdiately went for the door to flee.
Her heart still raced at what she sees, her mind a ss as she found herself having difficulty on knowing what to do towards this fact she had just seen.
Her mind was still in shamble as she walked out of the hallway, not knowing there was soone who had also walked and crashed at once to the poor person, her body imdiately falling backward until her bottom hit the hard floor.
The sudden pain shoot up to her spine, her eyes closing in pain as she groaned, "Ouch."
"You seem to be in a hurry," the voice said and a hand appeared right before her eyes.
Seeing the hand, Evangeline took them without noticing, "I’m sorry for running to you-"
When she looked up to Adrian’s face, her hand imdiately flung backward, trying to undo her fingers that had wrapped his hand but no matter how much force she used to pull her hand, it didn’t work, her fingers were still being held in place, strong enough for her to wince.
"Where did you go that had made you so scared, Evangeline?"
"Please let go of my hand," she said firmly, wincing.
"Then you better answer first," Adrian said, his words leaving no room for her to interrupt.
Hearing that, her eyebrows imdiately drew itself together.
"I do not owe you any answer, Sir Iverson. I have been kind towards you, to refuse you gently as I respect you but that doesn’t an you can overstep my kindness and hurt this way," she pulled her hand again, this ti harder, "Let go of or I’ll scream!"
"Yes," Adrian said while staring at her eyes, narrowing his own eyes. "I knew from the start that although your sister was always known to have a free heart, in the end of the day she’s just like any other ladies dancing in that ballroom, all made from the sa mold, all ready to please a man. They can’t live without soone owning them and despite your sister’s own thoughts she is never the one dominating, she’s always submissive, always following our rules."
"Save your words to yourself," she gritted her teeth.
Adrian scoffed, though he seed furious, it’s as if he liked seeing her anger and that made her even more bitter by her weakness.
He continued, "But I know that despite how everyone looks at you as if you’re the submissive one is wrong. After all, you’re the one who never allows anyone to choose for you. Don’t you know, Evangeline? Nothing thrills a man more than having to own sothing they can’t ta."
And before she could let out a scream a hand had pulled her from the back. Not Adrian’s hands but soone else’s. The hand had moved to cover her mouth and she could feel a marble slipped into her mouth. The marble was the size of a pearl and she tried not to swallow it but after the person covered her ears she couldn’t breath and had no choice but to swallow the pearl.
Right in that mont, her sight blurs and darkness swallow her whole, bringing her to the most frightening darkness she could ever face.
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