The Painter's Secret

Isabella painted the same portrait for three months. Every time she tried to stop, the woman whispered: "Don't stop." Tonight, Isabella demanded answers. "My name is Adriana," the voice said. "Four hundred years ago, a collector bound my soul to paintings. This is my door. My escape." Isabella studied the canvas—symbols in shadows, spell in paint. "What if I destroy it?" "Then I die. But you'd be free." Isabella painted a white dove. The painting glowed. The woman stepped out, laughing. But Isabella's hand faded. A soul for a soul. Too late. Isabella was trapped inside. Adriana spent forty years learning to paint. On her deathbed, she succeeded. New door, no exchange. Isabella stepped free. They burned both paintings. Isabella painted again—for the moment, not eternity.