They say advena colledge of fine art only accepts the gifted , but I think they just want people who can give paintings life doesn't matter if it is theirs .
The first time I walked through its gate I felt like i was getting swallowed , not welcomed, not invited, just taken.
But the fact that the thing swallowing me was art made it satisfying enough .
And I was right
Because here I am , standing in front of this wall.
"The wall of honour ."
I heard not a single painting have touched the wall in 5 years .
And for everyone this was a moment to celebrate . But the feeling of unease under their excitement was evident
they do not celebrate for themselvels but as this compition of bringing suffering into life demanded reverence
And beacouse someone finally had "captured suffering" well enough to be worthy for the wall
"And that someone is me ".
"Silas Gale "
Later that night when noises had all faded lights went cold , I walked in the East wing .
The wall stood their untouched by time . 12 painting hung on the wall . They said they were done by the greatest hands this colledge had ever seen .
But could you tell where those artist where now .
Not one of them was seem
And now mine joined them , the 13th painting
As stood before the wall I looked into the painting at the top .
And then , it shifted ?
No it breathed it definitely did
I mumbled that to myself slowly pulling back while still looking at the painting .
It was of a man holding a dagger in one hand and a brush in another . He was on his knees . As a gloomy figure wispred something into his eyes .
My eyes searched for the artist name in the corner I called it out softly
"Elias Vaan "
I paused for a second beacouse that's when I first heard that voice . It felt wrong and right at the same time . It slowly wispered
"Let then drown in the world you see...
Paint what they deserve".
-end of chapter