Chapter 89 - Add fuel to the fire

Williams sat slouched on the windowside stool, his paintbrush suspended mid-air, a streak of dried green on the tip trembling slightly. The painting room smelled of oil and pinewood, sun filtering through the tall windows to cast long streaks of light across the floor, slicing between easels and half-finished portraits. But it felt hollow today. His thoughts were heavy and tangled. His sister Novalie sat near him on a velvet stool, fingers twisting the fabric of her gown absentmindedly. Neither of them had spoken in a while, both weighed down by the same silent dread that had gripped the palace for days.