?I passed through a hallway lined with white walls, just like the rest of my house. But with every step I took, I couldn't stop looking at the countless paintings on the walls.
I had seen each of these paintings thousands of tis. I had studied them all, morized almost all of them. So of the paintings were bad ones that children could only draw half-assedly. But when I looked at another, I could see that the person who drew the paintings had improved. The paintings were getting more and more detailed, bigger and bigger, and more... beautiful.
The gradual evolution of the paintings... literally... made srized no matter how many tis I saw them. It was a different feeling, especially knowing that it was my own son who had painted them.
So, I was looking at each of the paintings again and again, taking slow steps. I was in no hurry. I was enjoying the colorful corridor with a smile on my face.
But after a while, I inevitably paused and took my eyes off the paintings. I didn't lower the smile on my face, on the contrary, I widened it even more. Then I knocked on the door on one side of the corridor, which was the reason for my pause.
At first, there was no answer. But with the second knock, I heard a movent behind the door, followed by the sweet and naive voice of a child.
"You can co in!"
I opened the door slowly, carefully, because sotis, there would be things behind it that could break or spill. But this ti, that was not the case and I opened the door wide.
Most of my house, apart from the countless paintings, was simply white. The rooms were supposed to be the sa way. But the room in front of ... could not be described by a simple color like white. It was like a rainbow, literally every color on the walls.
Not only the walls but even the ceiling was a work of art. It was not made up of intertwined patterns and paintings. It was a single, gigantic painting. But... having seen it many tis, I didn't pay much attention to it.
My eyes quickly shifted to the little boy sitting cross-legged in the center of the room. His ocean-blue eyes, which he had taken from , looked curious, and his lips were slightly curled upward. He had curly brown hair. His cheeks were losing their plumpness with each passing day, but they still had a fullness to them. He had only been ten for a few days.
"Dad, did sothing happen?"
I grimaced, sighing as I walked over to him.
"Does sothing have to happen for to visit my son?"
My middle child, Tom by na, threw his hands, covered in dried paint, behind his head and smiled awkwardly.
"I'm sorry... but you looked at what I was doing just an hour ago. So I thought sothing had happened..."
I put a smile back on my face, bent down, and ruffled my son's hair on purpose. But he didn't avoid it, on the contrary, he smiled even more.
"Did the white-haired brother go away?"
I nodded my head in agreent, while Tom looked a little disappointed.
"I... thought maybe we could talk."
It wasn't just words. His face fell, his eyes squinted slightly, really. After all... he was one of the people in this house who had been waiting for this day the most. This 'white-haired brother', Adrian Caleo, whose na he did not know, whom he had never seen even once in his life, was present in most of his paintings.
"For now, it won't happen. Maybe later... but not now. And you know why."
Tom didn't say anything else. Instead, he just closed his eyes and sighed. He shook his head slightly from side to side and then smiled again.
"We'll et when the ti cos, then!"
I hope you et him without any trouble, I thought involuntarily.
Yes, I might not trust Adrian Caleo, I might have discovered a trace of my great-grandfather in his soul, but that... didn't change the fact that I wanted a good outco.
Adrian Caleo was important. For this family, for the future of this world, and for so much more. I knew this much better than my ten-year-old son, who could not yet comprehend what he was drawing.
But... the doubt would always remain in . And I couldn't do anything without removing those doubts.
"Forget about that brother for now, as you said, you will et him when the ti cos. But... there's sothing I'm curious about, Tom."
Tom raised his eyebrows for a mont. I smiled again as his expression took on the sweetness of a curious child.
"The last ti you tried to draw a picture of your great-great-
grandfather, you couldn't, right?"
Tom quickly realized where the conversation was going. The curious expression on his face quickly disappeared.
"Yes...?"
"Can you try to draw him again? But this ti, instead of trying to draw him as a person... try to draw him as a spirit. Is that okay?"
Tom looked away nervously. But he nodded his head.
"I'll try... but I don't like trying to draw him..."
"I know, Tom. But you're the only one I can ask. You're my son, you're the one I trust the most in this world. But... don't worry. If you can't draw him this ti, I won't push you for a long ti, okay?"
Tom took a deep breath and nodded again. He spoke in a mumbling voice.
"Okay..."
When I saw how fast his mood changed... I couldn't help being angry with myself. I didn't want to force him either, it was hard for to force him to do sothing he didn't want to do. But... like I said, he was the only person in the world I could ask.
As I curled my lips upward, I quickly moved my fingers to his stomach. Without a second's hesitation, I started tickling him. Tom, despite his low mood, quickly tried to avoid , but he couldn't. He burst out laughing right afterward, his laughter echoing in my ears.
I stood up and stretched slightly, then took my eyes off my son, whose chest was rising and falling rapidly, and looked behind him for the first ti since I had entered the room.
It was clear he had been working on sothing before I entered the room. I wondered if it was a normal picture this ti, or a special one as usual, but... I paused for a mont when I saw a spot in the picture that was largely obscured by his small figure.
In the space between his arm and his stomach, on the ground just behind him... I could see a figure... soone with his back turned. He had white hair, as is often the case... I wasn't too surprised. But the important thing was... the condition of the figure.
"What did you draw again?"
I spoke in a tone that didn't worry my son too much, despite what I had seen. However, my smile fell from my face and I beca serious, even if I didn't want to be. Without realizing it, Tom suddenly beca excited and answered my question as he stepped back.
"I didn't draw this one, my friend did! How is it, how is it?"
His question echoed in my mind, his excited words entered my ears and reached my brain, but... I just froze in place.
It was a different painting than any other painting my son had drawn that I had ever seen. In contrast to the excitent of the person who drew it... it was a terrifying picture.
The background was a very familiar city. It was a random street in Wiathen City, but it was a street I knew. I had passed this place several tis.
It was sothing I wouldn't have been surprised to see on its own. But... everything else made stiffen where I was.
A young man with white hair, Adrian Caleo, stood in the center of the picture with his back turned. In his hand was a spear, surrounded by a strange, colorless glow.
To one side of him was the figure of a young woman with bright blond hair. In her left hand, she held a thin sword, and in her right, a tiny fla burned. On the other side was another young woman with long, black hair. She had nothing in her hands and even looked a little scared. She had taken a few steps back from the duo standing to her left.
There were a few people around them, trying to escape, watching what was happening on the ground with pale skin, as if their blood had frozen. I could feel the fear in their faces.
The first of the two most important details in the picture... was the other background of the picture outside the street. Except for this street that I recognized, there was no other background in the picture. There was only... pure darkness. There was no sky, no sun, or stars. Just... nothing.
And this darkness seed to be slowly closing in on Adrian Caleo, or rather on the area where he was.
The second detail... was another person standing in front of the three young people in the painting. Another young man wearing a black mask, who also looked young... but even though his face was not visible, just looking at him, he had an air of... fear.
He seed to be the darkness itself.
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