PORTRAITS OF THE UNDYING

The memory unfolded like a vivid dream, pulling Isabella deeper into the life of her past self. Victoria stood in the grand study hall of the royal academy, sunlight streaming through tall windows that cast golden patches of light on the marble floors. The air hummed with soft murmurs and the rustle of quills against parchment. Students filled the space, each focused on their scholarly pursuits.

Beside Victoria sat Sebastian, his usual easygoing demeanor a source of comfort. He leaned closer, nudging her arm.

"Victoria," he whispered, amusement lacing his tone, "if you keep staring at that door, people might think you're expecting a royal procession."

Victoria smiled faintly, her focus unwavering. "I'm not expecting anyone. I'm just… curious."

Her curiosity was soon satisfied when the door opened, and a young man walked in. His presence was striking, commanding attention even without effort. His dark hair fell in soft waves around his sharp, chiseled features. Eyes as piercing as a winter storm scanned the room, calculating yet distant.

"That's Viktor," Sebastian said, leaning in conspiratorially. "They say he's from the northern provinces. Quiet, brooding, doesn't mix much."

Victoria didn't respond. She couldn't tear her gaze away. There was something about him—an inexplicable pull that made her heart skip a beat. When Viktor's eyes met hers, the world seemed to pause. Time stretched thin, and in that fleeting moment, it felt as though they were the only two people in the room.

Across the hall, Viktor felt it too. The weight of her gaze was magnetic, pulling him in against his will. His defenses wavered as he stared back at the girl with fiery determination in her eyes and an aura of light that seemed to illuminate the room.

The moment passed as quickly as it had begun, but its impact lingered. Victoria turned back to her books, her thoughts a tangled web of questions and emotions. Viktor, too, retreated into his stoic silence, though his heart betrayed him with its quickened beat.

---

Isabella woke with a start, the memory dissolving like mist as reality reasserted itself. She blinked, finding herself seated before the nearly restored canvas of her mother. Her heart raced as she tried to piece together what she had just seen.

Her mother's portrait stared back at her, regal and serene. The strokes of her restoration brush had brought the queen's image to life—a face full of wisdom, grace, and an underlying strength that reminded Isabella of herself.

"Who are you, Viktor?" Isabella whispered to the empty room, her fingers brushing the canvas. "And why does the past keep drawing me back to you?"

---

Later that day, a knock at the door broke her reverie. Damien leaned against the frame, his usual smile in place.

"Care for a change of scenery?" he asked. "There's a café in the city I've been wanting to try. I figured you could use a break."

Isabella hesitated, glancing at the paintings around her. The weight of the contract lingered in her mind. "I'm not sure if I can just… leave," she said softly.

Before Damien could reply, Viktor appeared, his imposing figure filling the doorway. "You can go," he said, his voice calm but firm. His eyes locked onto hers, and for a moment, there was a flicker of something vulnerable in his gaze.

"You have your own life," Viktor continued. "You're not bound to this castle every moment of the day. Just return by evening."

The tension in the air was palpable. Isabella looked between the two men, both of whom seemed to be weighing unspoken words. Finally, she nodded.

"Thank you, Viktor," she said, her voice laced with gratitude.

Viktor turned and walked away without another word, but Isabella couldn't help noticing the subtle clench of his jaw. Letting her leave with Damien hadn't been easy for him, yet he had done it.

---

The drive into the city was filled with light-hearted conversation. Damien spoke animatedly about his research, his voice laced with excitement. "There's so much history in this place," he said. "Every corner seems to hold a secret. I think we're only scratching the surface."

Isabella listened, her thoughts drifting occasionally to the vision she'd experienced earlier. She was grateful for Damien's presence, his friendship a steadying force amidst the whirlwind of mysteries surrounding her.

The café was nestled in a quiet street lined with cobblestones and ivy-covered buildings. Its wooden sign swayed gently in the breeze, and the aroma of freshly brewed coffee wafted out to meet them.

Inside, the ambiance was warm and inviting. They chose a table by the window, where sunlight poured in, casting a golden glow over everything.

"This is nice," Isabella said, relaxing into her seat. "Thank you for bringing me here."

Damien smiled. "You needed it. You've been cooped up in that castle for too long. It's good to get out, even if it's just for a little while."

He ordered for both of them, insisting on the café's signature brew. The conversation flowed easily, touching on art, history, and lighter topics that gave Isabella a much-needed reprieve from the heavy questions weighing on her mind.

---

Back at the castle, Viktor stood by the window in his study, his eyes fixed on the distant road. A part of him regretted letting Isabella leave. The thought of her with Damien, laughing and sharing moments, gnawed at him in a way he didn't want to admit.

But Viktor knew he couldn't hold her captive. Isabella was like light—free-spirited and uncontainable. To confine her would be to extinguish the very essence that drew him to her.

As the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the castle walls, Viktor's thoughts remained tethered to her. He had always been a creature of control, but with Isabella, he felt his grip slipping.

---

When Isabella returned later that evening, Viktor was waiting for her in the main hall. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes softened when they met hers.

"Did you enjoy yourself?" he asked, his voice steady but tinged with genuine curiosity.

"I did," she said with a small smile. "Thank you for letting me go."

Viktor nodded, his gaze lingering on her for a moment longer before he turned away.

As Isabella retreated to her room, she couldn't help but feel the weight of the day. The vision of Viktor in her past, the warmth of Damien's friendship, and the complexities of her present life all swirled in her mind.

The threads of the past and present were intertwining, and Isabella knew she was standing on the edge of something much larger than herself.

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