The Queen Of Darkness

Prologue: The Impasto Muse

"Tell me every terrible thing you ever did, and let me love you anyway".

-Edgar Allan Poe

The air in the Grande Galerie was thick with scent of oil, expensive champagne, heavy perfume and the hushed whispers of the city's elite.

The art world hadn't seen a night like this in a decade. It felt less like a gallery opening and more like a coronation.

Felix Davies, the man who was being called 'The New Age Van Gogh', had finally undraped his crowning achievement.

In the center of the room, the crowd was dead silent.

The portrait was a masterpiece of Impasto.

The impasto was chiseled peaks of obsidian and midnight-blue oil paint that gave the Queen of Darkness a physical presence.

Under the spotlight, the texture of her lace sleeves looked sharp enough to cut, and the crown atop her head seemed to be forged from frozen smoke.

"Look at her eyes," a woman whispered, her voice shaking.

"He didn't just paint her. He obsessed over her. Every ridge of paint is a living proof to a man who is haunted."

"Look at the aggression in those strokes," another man whispered, mesmerized.

"It's violent... yet so delicate. How could he paint someone he hates, with this much passion? He's truly an Enigma."

The crowd eventually thinned. Felix stood alone in the dark. He stared at the painting, the moss-green eyes that refused to blink.

He reached out, his thumb nearly touching a dried peak of paint on her cheek.

"I wish, I could hate you," he whispered.

Felix Davies moved through the world like sunlight.

His wealth was old, his smile was easy. Even the way his platinum blonde hair caught the light was a kind of currency in itself.

He was the kind of boy who understood the power he wielded, with his silver earrings glinting and those greenish eyes that always seemed to be searching for a camera.

He was... what they used to call... yes! The Golden Boy of the campus, and he knew it.

Then there was Ren Rosewood.

She moved through the same world like a shadow.

Her golden-brown skin, a beautiful legacy from her Bangladeshi mother, was something she had learned to hide behind oversized sweaters and stacks of books.

In her childhood, that same radiant skin had been the target of cruel whispers and playground bullying.

It turned to scars that had forced her to build high, thick walls around her soul.

While other girls were busy trying to catch Felix's eye, Ren was always tucked away in the library's furthest corners, her nose buried in a book.

She was an unyielding mystery. Calm. Introverted. Utterly unimpressed by the Matrix of popularity.

One Tuesday afternoon, Ren found herself in the local supermarket. Her mother needed flour and chicken for dinner.

Ren navigated the aisles with quiet efficiency, her long dark hair swaying as she reached for a box of Turkish Delight at the candy counter.

Suddenly, the air around her changed. It grew heavy with the scent of expensive cologne and sea salt.

"Well, well," Felix's voice, smooth as aged whiskey, cut through the hum of the refrigerators.

"If it isn't the campus phantom, caught in the wild."

Ren didn't flinch.

She placed the candy in her basket, her expression as calm as a frozen lake.

She turned to leave, but Felix shifted, blocking her path.

"Come on, this is boring! You can drop the act. I've seen you. You think I don't notice those little glances? When my back's turned, you sneak a look."

Ren tried to sidestep him, but Felix was faster.

In one fluid, predatory motion, he slammed both hands onto the metal shelving on either side of her head, caging her between his arms.

Thud.

The sudden sound of his palms hitting the shelf echoed in the narrow aisle.

Felix Davies was leaning over her, his face so close she could see the emerald flecks in his eyes.

He was smirking, that practiced, flirty look that usually made girls melt.

"You're very good at running, Rosewood," Felix whispered, his voice vibrating in the small space between them.

"But the grocery store is a small world. You can't hide behind a book here."

Ren looked at him with her moss-green eyes that possess a cool, sharp gift from her father's side, meeting his gaze with a chillingly placid assessment.

Her skin glowed under the fluorescent lights, making her look like a statue of a goddess who found him mildly annoying.

"Felix," she said, her voice like cold silk.

"You're blocking the path of a woman who just wants to go home. Is this your usual routine? Trapping girls by the candy until they agree you're handsome?"

Felix's smirk widened as he leaned in even closer, his blonde hair nearly brushing her forehead.

"Only the ones who pretend I don't exist. I know the truth, Ren. I see you in the back of the lecture hall. You sneak looks at me when you think the world isn't watching."

"Admit it! You're curious, right!"

Ren let out a tiny, sharp exhale.... the closest she would ever get to a laugh.

"Tell me, Mr. Davies," she said, her gaze sweeping over his face with brutal indifference.

"Are you truly that delusional or am I simply cross-eyed?"

The smirk froze on Felix's face.

For the first time in his life, someone had looked at his perfection and felt... nothing.

The Golden Boy caught off guard by the sheer lack of impact his power had on her.

Before he could tighten his grip or find his voice, Ren ducked under his arm with the grace of a shadow escaping the light.

Felix stayed there, his heart hammering a rhythm he didn’t recognize.

His hands were still, against the shelf, caging nothing but thin air.

He looked down at his palms, still pressed against the cold metal shelf.

He realized his hands were shaking, not from anger but from a jolt of electricity he hadn’t felt in years.

He watched her retreating figure, the way she didn't look back, not even once.

Most people were glass, Felix could see right through them.

But Ren Rosewood was a mirror. And for the first time in his life, Felix Davies didn’t like the reflection staring back at him.

"Cross-eyed?" he whispered to the empty aisle. A dark, jagged smile was finally cutting across his face.

"No, Rosewood. You saw me exactly as I am. And that’s your first mistake."