Canvas Of The Heart

Chapter 4: Art Piece From The Dream

Sophia sat in the spotless studio Lucas had set up for her, rubbing her temples in anger. The room was brightened by the large windows and high ceilings, but they were unable to penetrate her clouded thoughts.

Hours of looking at her sketchpad had yielded only tentative, faint lines. Her typical creative spark was suppressed by the weight of Lucas's comments about triumph, success, and strength, which hung over her like a stormy cloud.

She needed a respite, a chance to take a step back and refocus. She picked up her bag and coat and decided to go to her own studio, a tiny room hidden away in the city.

Although it wasn't as large as Lucas's own, it was hers and had always been a haven for her talents.

She knew she needed a break but she told herself she had to retrieve some items she had left behind.

As she got to the studio and entered, the well-known creak of the door welcomed her. She was anchored in the comfort of her place by the subtle scent of aged wood and turpentine in the air.

Long shadows were produced on the floor as sunlight crept through the dusty windows. Sophia sighed with relief. She felt more in charge and more like herself here.

She walked up to her desk and looked at the abandoned sketches and incomplete paintings strewn about. Then she stopped.

For there sat a piece of paper, neatly folded in half, in the middle of her desk. Curiously, she walked towards it, her heart thumping in her chest.

At the very least, she didn't recall leaving anything of that nature there. Her hands were shaking as she unfurled the page.

As she absorbed the picture drawn on the page, her breath caught. A stormy sky towering over an open field, with a lone figure in the distance, obscured by shadow.

It was the replica of a scenery she frequently dreamed about. She had never quite understood why, whether she had seen the place as a child without remembering or whether it was just something her artistic mind made up.

But the sketch she was holding was an accurate representation of the scenery, capturing every feature with uncanny precision.

A simple signature, "The Raven." appeared at the bottom of the document.

Sophia's thoughts were racing as she gazed at the name. This sketch appeared to have been taken out of her brain, even though she had never heard of The Raven before.

Nothing else seemed out of place, but her immediate assumption was that someone had broken into her studio.

But looking around, everything was just as she had left it, other than this enigmatic painting. She looked around the room again, half expecting to see someone hiding in the shadows; the hairs on the back of her neck stood up.

She was by herself though. Her own rapid, irregular breathing was the sole sound.

With the artwork seemingly burning a hole in her bag, the drive back to Lucas's estate felt longer than usual. She kept thinking about the picture and the persistent questions it brought up.

The Raven….who the hell was that? And how did they know about this scenery?

The sun had set by the time she got there, and the estate was a rich shade of gray and blue. With the sketch firmly grasped in her palm, Sophia rushed inside, hardly seeing the building's magnificence.

In the library, she discovered Lucas sitting in an armchair and sipping a drink of whiskey. As she entered, the only sound coming from the fire was its crackling, and the room was filled with its warm glow. He put down his drink and uttered, "Ms. Lynns. Is there a problem? You appear... uneasy.”

Sophia's voice was tense as she held up the sketch. “This was left in my studio. Are you familiar with it?”

Lucas's visage stiffened for a second as his eyes shifted to the paper. But it vanished as swiftly, to be replaced by his typical composure.

With a controlled tone, he said, "May I see it?"

After hesitating, Sophia gave it to him. Lucas looked closely at the drawing, his eyes narrowing a little as he read the signature.

Her tone was harsher than she felt as she queried, "Who is The Raven?"

With cautious movements, Lucas gave her the sketch back. He answered, "I'm not familiar with the name," but she had her doubts about him because of the tone of his voice.

Sophia explained, "This scene—it's peculiar to me. I've been dreaming about it for a long time. How on earth did someone draw this? How could anyone know about it?”

“Lucas's countenance was unreadable as he reclined in his chair. "Dreams frequently draw from bits of memory," he stated. "Perhaps you have subconsciously seen this image before and forgotten. Besides, why are you asking me these questions? It should be your business. Isn't it?”

Sophia gave a head shake. "No. I have been living a normal ordinary life before I got involved with you. I was—-”

“Got involved with me?” Lucas gave a low laugh despite the icy and confused look on Sophia's face. He added, “Anyone listening would misunderstand your words, Sophia.”

Her first name again. And it wasn't the first time in one day. What was this man doing calling her name with that deep, rich voice? Did he know what tingling effect it has on her? And why was he teasing her with her own words now?

Sophia clenched her jaw, angry with herself. Did she just lose focus on why she came to have this discussion because of a single word from him? Because of the way he called her first name?

She formed a tiny line with her lips, “You know I don't mean it that way. It just seems significant that it was after I started your project that this happened.”

With an unyielding tone, Lucas stated, “All right, I'll investigate. For now, I advise you to concentrate on your work in the interim. This kind of distraction will only cause you to lose your focus.”

Sophia wanted to argue, but she was silenced by something in his eyes. Holding the sketch firmly in her palm, she turned and walked out of the library.

Trying to get rid of the discomfort, Sophia spread out her sketches in her studio at the estate, trying to get some work done, but her attention kept straying to the enigmatic drawing, blurring her focus.

Also, Lucas's presence persisted in the back of her thoughts despite her best efforts to shun them.

It seemed as though he had moved into her head and was forcing her to prove herself in unexpected ways with his penetrating eyes and witty remarks.

She couldn't help but feel a twinge of doubt when she took a step back to evaluate her progress on the sketch.

Was it sufficient? Would it live up to Lucas's high expectations?

Her heart sank as the doubt intensified. But she wasn't about to give up when she was just getting started. She might be intimidated by Lucas Hawke, but she was determined to prove herself, even if it meant going to her limits, that she fit in his world.

Besides, this was more than just fulfilling Lucas's demands. It was about taking back her self-assurance

As her hand became idle again, her mind returned to the paper from earlier. The distant figure in the drawing appeared to be staring back at her, its dark shape both ominous and

enticing.

A notion came to her and a shiver went down her spine. Was the figure urging her on—or cautioning her against something?