"You remember, Thalia, how happily the days passed when you were the darling of that old man in his humble cottage. All the others, his once-large family—had been swept away by pestilence, accident, or violence. Only you remained.
When the Black Forest thrived in the summer warmth, you gathered wildflowers and arranged them throughout the hut. Your touch gave it a joy that no riches could match. At sundown, you'd kneel beside him, both of you chanting hymns in gratitude for the day and hope for the next. Your voice—sweet and soft—was his comfort, his peace. In your song, he found reason to rejoice, even though he had lost so much. You were his everything, Thalia.
Then winter came. The forest turned barren. Yet, inside the cottage, warmth endured. The fire, though small, brought light to the shadows. And despite the chill outside, there was warmth in the laughter you shared.
But then—you disappeared.
In the heart of winter, when his body was frail and his heart even more so—you left him. For days, he searched for you. Through snow-laden trails, he climbed, wandered, and peered into every dark hollow. He scoured the streams, combed through the thickets, desperate for any trace of you. But there was none.
The realization crushed him: you had abandoned him. And the pain of that truth was greater than the fear of finding your lifeless body. That's how deeply you wounded him."
"Stop," Thalia whispered, trembling. "Why are you telling me this? Who are you?"
"You'll know soon enough," he said gently.
She stared at him, fear and wonder flickering in her eyes. He had embraced her earlier, like family. His tone was paternal—yet he couldn't have been much older than she.
"You've seen the portrait of the old man," he continued, "the one painted as he sat by the fire on the night that changed his fate."
Thalia flinched.
"Yes. His fate was sealed that night—but not his death," the man said darkly. "He sat just like that, broken and alone. No more firewood. No more hope. That's when he appeared—out of the storm—the man whose face is captured in the second portrait I showed you."
Agnes shuddered and cast a glance behind her, half-expecting the eerie canvas to come alive.
"There was something terrifying about him," she whispered. "His eyes… the way he looked—it wasn't natural."
"Because he wasn't natural," the man said. "He had powers beyond human limits. And he offered the old man a deal. He promised him youth. Wealth. Knowledge. A second life in a strong, beautiful body. A chance to rewrite his destiny."
Thalia gasped, her hand flying to her mouth.
"No," she murmured. "It can't be. You...you're...."
"I am Elias Roderick" he said, embracing her as her body wilted with the weight of the revelation.
"You've changed so much. I was blind not to see it," she whispered. "Can you ever forgive me? I left you…"
"Let us forgive each other," he said warmly. "Now you understand the inscription beneath my portrait—'His last day thus.' That was the last day I lived in that frail, broken body."
"But why did you say let us forgive?" she asked, her voice cracking with guilt.
"I told you—I had forgotten about you. For a time, you were lost to me. Tonight, fate brought you back."
He paused, then added with a shadow over his eyes, "For eighteen months, I was bound to the man who made me what I am. I served him. I learned from him. I traveled with him—from city to city, from joy to sorrow. I saw wonders and horrors alike."
"And the cost?" Thalia whispered. "What did you pay for this… gift?"
"Don't ask me that," Elias said sharply, then softened. "Please, Thalia. Never speak of it again. I've told you what you need to know."
"Just one thing," she begged, voice trembling. "Did you… sell your soul?"
"No," Elias replied, firm and fast. "My fate is grim—but not damned. Look."
He pulled an ivory crucifix from the table and kissed it. "I still have faith. I still have hope."
Thalia sank to her knees, eyes brimming. "Thank the Virgin…"
Wagner helped her up. "The man who gave me this curse—he's gone now. When he died, I was free to choose my own path again. I settled in Lumea last year. This house is mine. Isolated. Quiet. The servants are loyal and few."
He looked around the room. "I painted the portraits. All the scenes, every one of them—I lived through. And now, Thalia, this house is yours as well. Let the past die here. But I must ask three things of you."
"Anything," she said, wiping her eyes.
"First," Elias said, "you must call me your brother, in private and around others. Second, never touch the black cloth over there."
Her eyes flicked to the veiled object. It gave off a strange, ominous pull.
"And third," he finished, "never again speak of this night, or what I've told you—unless I say otherwise."
"I swear it," she said, hugging him. "Heaven has sent me a brother in my darkest hour."
He held her gently. "And this night, Thalia—this night of revelations—will be our last. Now, it's your turn. Tell me everything that happened to you."
Thalia took a deep breath.
And began her tale.