Freya
“The paintings are of the old Lycan rulers. In other words, my family,” Arvid explains as if knowing exactly what I’m doing even though he is busy filling the bathtub with water inside the bathroom.
“I see,” I say and stare at one painting in particular. It’s one with a happy family: a mother, a father and a child—it must be Arvid and his parents before they died.
“I’ve heard the human world is more advanced when it comes to technology, and while you can take pictures today in the magical realm, there weren’t any cameras around back when my parents were around. So the painting you’re looking at is my last memory of them.”
My heart clenches for him. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you,” I hear him turning off the water. “I hope I can avenge them one day and kill the demons t
