The Potrait in The Dark.
A week had passed.
Harry had grown used to the feeling of her watching. The first few nights, it had unsettled him, the indifference of his magic made his skin crawl with the memory of their first encounters. But now… now it was different. He didn’t startle at the flicker of shadow in the corners. He didn’t flinch when he felt the weight of unseen eyes. His magic no longer recoiled.
It accepted.
Which was almost more disturbing.
Tonight, he found himself wandering the halls of the church, something he never did before. The stone corridors were cold beneath his feet, the candlelight dim, casting long shadows. He should have turned back. But something pulled at him, a silent tug in his chest leading him forward.
And then he saw it.
A painting, old and worn, half-covered in dust.
At first, it looked like any other religious portrait. The figure of a nun, dressed in traditional black and white. But the longer he stared, the more wrong it became.
The face was hollow. Sunken. A sickly grayish-white, almost corpse-like. The eyes—black as oil, endless, hungry—bore into him. The mouth, thin and twisted, barely visible against the pale skin, held something unnatural in its shape.
Harry’s breath hitched.
His fingers twitched at his side, and his magic curled beneath his skin, uneasy.
This wasn’t just a painting. It was her.
A depiction of the same entity that lurked in the halls at night. The one that had shadowed his visions, corrupted his core, and wrapped itself around his existence like smoke.
And yet… why was it here?
His stomach twisted as he stepped closer, barely realizing he was moving until he was inches away. The details were clearer now—the texture of the brushstrokes, the cracked paint, the unsettling depth of those blackened eyes.
Something about the portrait felt ancient. Like it had always been here, waiting.
A chill traced his spine.
He exhaled, slow and steady, before whispering under his breath.
"Who are you?"
The air in the corridor thickened.
And in the silence, the candle flames flickered—then died.