<img src="assets/museum.png" style="border:3px solid #ffc411">
I’d seen the Museum in my dreams and reveries, but I also recall faint memories of exploring its amber halls once as a small child. It’d been my first time seeing one of Fiore's masterpieces hanging in its golden exhibition.
The Museum is far more magnificent on a special day like this. Its vibrant halls are bathed in golden light in honor of the Storia Festival.
I nervously stand beside my newest painting in the Museum’s exhibition area. I’m one of fifty artists showcasing today in honor of the great Fiore himself, whose lapis lazuli gaze watch over these halls.
We each have a few minutes to present our work to the panel, then await the results about this year’s recipient of Storia’s Golden Scala award.
How I’d been accepted to showcase at the festival this year, I will never know, but this is my chance to share my dream of becoming someone as lasting in the art world as Fiore. Maybe someday people will remember my name hundreds of years later just like his.
The honor is grand, but my nerves are my worst enemy today.
There’s still a few minutes before I’m called up before the panel. My gaze whizzes past faces and incandescent portraits on the walls.
I spot a girl in a crimson beret in the distance trailing her hand along one of Fiore’s most elaborate paintings. For a brief moment, her hand disappears into the painting. As she spots me from the distance, she greets me with a smile, then reaches her arm further inside.
At once, she pulls out her hand, which glimmers like starlight. She conceals it inside her vest and she turns away.
[[Follow]] the girl.
[[Call]] out to the girl.
[[Remain]] with your painting.
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<source src="assets/overture.mp3"></audio>I cradle my portrait as I enter the judge's room, which is located a few rooms away from the new Fiore exhibit. It’s dimly lit with candelabra as a stoic panel of judges sit before me.
An original Fiore painting of //The Maiden of Incantella// hangs above them. She is a maiden of golden hair and somber eyes hangs from upside down as the sun rises from the ground, and the moon from above.
I set my painting on the spare easel and await in silence.
“So, your name is Luca?” The judge furthest to the right removes their spectacles and squints at the painting. “Are you by any chance named after the great painter, Valentino Luca?”
[["Actually, I'm named after--"]]
[["No, but my painting is about--"]]"There was a girl just now," I say. “She was doing something strange to one of Fiore’s paintings.”
“What kind of strange things?” Mars scratches his chin as he scopes the hall. “I’ve heard of ghost stories about the Museum, but who knows. Any place as old as this has got to have its secrets.”
Before I can say anything, I hear my name being called next for judging.
Mars steps aside for me to pass. “The floor’s all yours now, Luca. Best of luck!”
[[Attend]] your showcase."How can I focus on anything else but my showcase right now?" I say. "I'm already a stuttering mess."
Mars shrugs at me. “It’s keeping me as cool as the sea right now. I’m not telling you to forget about the showcase, but there’s a lot of interesting things to explore here at the Museum. They’re welcoming distractions, even the ghost stories.”
[["What types of ghost stories?"]]
[["Have you explored the Museum for yourself?"]]“What more can I do? I’ve put a lot of time and effort into this,” I say as the heat rises to my face. “I can’t believe what I’m hearing. I don't understand why you would think I didn't put thought into this work."
"It's difficult to tell how this painting is inspired by a memory of Fiore," one judge says, taking a closer look. "The child looks lost and forgotten, yet from what? Were you afraid to look deeper into this memory?"
I turn away before the judge can see the tears brimming in my eyes.
Another judge glowers at me. “I think you should use this newfound anger to create something more suitable to your personality."
[["But I--"]] "Is this a joke?" I glare in their direction. “How could you of all people tell someone that their work has no emotion or inspiration? Isn't it unfair to assume that I didn't put thought into this piece?"
“I’m afraid you still don’t understand,” one judge says, retreating. "Your skills show potential, but if we don't know what to take away from this, what's the point? If want to draw from a memory, why not explore all of intricacies in this painting?
Take Fiore, for example. He had suffered a great deal to create these masterpieces. We don't just regard him for his skill, but for ability to take those hardships and creating something beautiful out of them. Why should we reward you now when you have yet to accomplish this?”
[[Storm]] out of the showcase.
[["But I--"]] "But I--" I want to say so many things, but the longer I gaze upon them, the harder my heart pounds in my chest.
With a hardened sigh, I bow my head to them. “I suppose it isn't fair of me to waste your time any further.”
[[Storm]] out of the showcase.I promptly take the painting off the easel and exit without looking back.
My face is hot, but I hold down my tears as I pass the artist’s corner, where other artists are still waiting in line.
I don’t care where I’m going at this point. I’m lost in my trance, wading through a flood of muddled memories and shattered dreams.
//Why couldn't I tell them that I had tried looking back, but I just can't remember anything more about that day?//
Without realizing it, I’m somehow in Fiore’s unguarded new exhibit hall.
An unfamiliar batch of Fiore’s paintings hang along the walls, all inspired by nature, of golden camellias and dainty gardens.
Planted at the center of the hall is a black easel.
“Go ahead. Put your painting here,” an unfamiliar voice says. “I’ve been waiting for someone like you.”
[[Search]] for the voice.
[[Call out]] to the voice.
[[Rush]] to the hall.I spin around the room in search of the stranger.
A shadow sprawls along the walls before manifesting beside the easel.
"They didn't seem to care about your painting, but I very much do," the voice says. "Place your painting on this easel, and this nightmare shall end."
[[Place]] the painting on the easel.I dig my heels into the ground and scan the exhibit. “Who are you?” I call out, sending a rich echo across the room.
“Someone who believes in you when others don’t. Isn’t that enough for you to trust me?”
A shadow sprawls along the halls before manifesting beside the easel.
“Or maybe if I told you my name, you’d be more inclined to change your mind. Place your painting on the easel, and this nightmare shall end.”
[[Place]] the painting on the easel.I take a step back from the exhibit and head in the other direction as fast as my legs can carry me.
Before I can make it to the main hall, a shadow expands and floods the hallway and sends me crashing back inside the exhibit.
As I pull myself up, the shadow whisks me closer to the black easel.
“You know you want to, Luca. It’s the only way they’ll truly understand your genius. Place your painting on the easel, and this nightmare shall end.”
[[Place]] the painting on the easel.At once, the shadow glows and scatters into particles of light. At the center of the room stands a tall man with the lapis lazuli eyes I’d seen in my dreams and daytime reveries.
“Fiore...? Is it really you?”
<center><img src="assets/fiore.png"></center>
He studies my painting and gives me a fond look. “Excellent, Luca. You’re not like the other ones. They all claim to love me, yet none of them dared to listen to my guidance. A true artist isn’t without a great mentor, don't you think?”
He circles me, inspecting from head to toe until his gaze fixes upon my portrait. “I couldn’t help but overhear what they said about your portrait. Devoid of emotion? How uncouth of them, but even I know true power that critics hold. The cruel cycle of an artist is to always be at their mercy.”
Without warning, he draws my hand away from the canvas and clasps it to his chest. “Wouldn’t it be nice if I could help you uncover those memories?"
[["You would really do that for me?"]]
[["How's that even possible?"]]
[["I don't know about this."]]I swallow hard as I force myself to meet his gaze. My hero stands before me, made of flesh and blood, but //how could he be human after all these years?//
"You would really do that for me?"
“Why wouldn’t I do it for someone like you?" Fiore says. "Every artist thinks they deserve this opportunity, but not all of them do.They haven’t endured that hardships you’ve faced to get here, the secrets you’ve long kept hidden away."
He gestures to his exhibit. “All I ask of you is to let me reside within your spirit, and I will give you everything of mine you need to find relief from this tormenting. With me by your side, no judge nor self-doubt could ever deter you again.”
He offers his hand to me. “You’re just one step away from making your dreams come true."
[["But, why me?" ]]
[["For what purpose?"]] "How's that even possible?" I can't help but take a step back.
"It's quite simple, really. I could change your life with the simplest of movements." He touches my painting.
At once, child in my painting’s face contorts and tears sprout from his eyes.
With the flick of a wrist, the painting uncoils itself to normal.
“Most people have yet to awaken their minds,” Fiore says. “I’ve been looking for someone who can spare me from this prison, and together we could take the art world by storm, reclaiming my glory.”
He offers his hand to me. “You’re just one step away from making your dreams come true.”
[["But, why me?" ]]
[["For what purpose?"]] I try to pull away, but his grip is firm. “I don't know about this. I don’t know what’s happening right now. How do I know if you’re even real?”
He presses his hand to my painting and at once, the child in my painting’s face contorts and tears sprout from his eyes.
With the flick of a wrist, the painting uncoils itself to normal.
“Isn’t this real enough?” Fiore gestures to his exhibit. “I’ve been slumbering within these paintings waiting for someone to set me free. The world’s been waiting for Fiore’s great return. All I ask of you is to let me inside your mind, and I will let you inside mine. If you let me in, I could help you heal that part of you that's been lost all this time.”
He offers his hand to me. “You’re just one step away from making your dreams come true.”
[["But, why me?" ]]
[["For what purpose?"]]I hold my breath as I gaze upon my hero. “But, why me? I still don’t understand why me, when there’s so many better artists.”
“But none like you, Luca,” Fiore says. “None of them truly understand. I have the chance to give you a gift, a chance to find peace. No one will doubt your genius. No one will doubt your abilities. You will never know of rejection again. All I ask is your loyalty."
[["Just my loyalty?"]]
[["Before anything, I've always wanted to tell you--"]]"For what purpose?" I stare at his outstretched hand, then at my listless portrait. “All those hardships and secrets--”
“The judges think they know your story,” Fiore says in a taunting voice. "But you and I both know that there's so much more to this painting. There might be a way to change their minds if they could feel more of my presence in your work. How else do you think some of these other paintings have made it to this hall? If only they really knew."
“Then why should I trust you?” I interrupt. “Maybe I don't know how to paint all of my memories, but I don't know if I want someone reminding me of them either.”
The painting of a golden camellia begins to rattle.
Fiore struts towards it and stabs his hand right through it. To my horror, his hand impales through the painting, just like the girl from before. “Not now, Aurelie. It’s too late for you to save him. This one is mine.”
I take a step back.
[["What are you really, then?"]]
[["How can do you that?"]]
[["Who are you talking to?"]] "There is no turning back, is there?" I ask him, trembling.
"There isn't anymore, Luca. It'll be a new world for the both of us."
As the ritual begins, the painting of a golden camellia hanging overhead begins to rattle.
I stand back as shadows overtake the room, and the my painting transfigures itself into a sinister portrait of a man’s burning red eyes.
“Wait! Fiore?”
I can barely look at the picture as Fiore seizes me by the arm. “Lost little Luca. Such talent, yet so far in the shadows that he’ll soon become one himself.”
Light bathes down the walls. Fiore drags me to the painting and stabs his hand inside again The ink and paint latch onto my arms and drag me inside, enveloping me in a prism of blinding colors.
An unfamiliar voice echoes in my head. “Come back, Luca!”
"Let me inside, Luca!" Fiore calls out to me in another echo. "Show me your memories!"
[[Welcome]] Fiore into your mind.
[[Resist]] and call out to the voice.
At once, I stare into my painting, searching for Aurelie's voice. "How can I do it?"
As long as Fiore is distracted, I fight off the the paintbrush's control and grasp it like a sword.
"What are you doing?" Fiore hovers over me. "Stop listening to her! Before you do it, think about all those tears and sleepless nights you sacrificed.”
Fiore calls out to me. “Are you denying your memories? Your twisted inspirations? You know who the boy in the painting is, Luca. You can’t escape it.”
Against every fiber of my being, I grasp the infernal brush and drive it through my canvas.
"I am the boy in the painting," I say, raising the brush. "But he isn't who I am anymore."
The first stab is not enough, yet I hear Fiore cry out as he reaches for another painting.
“Do it again!” Aurelie's voice says in my head. “I’m on my way to you!”
[["I can't look at this canvas any longer."]]
[["Where are you, Aurelie?"]] "Where are you, Aurelie?"
My portrait drops to the floor and convulses. The other paintings begin to shake once more.
“Destroy the canvas!” Aurelie cries out in my head.
“Silence, Aurelie!” Fiore attempts to stab another painting. As he approaches the one of a golden garden, a ball of light emerges from the painting and falls before us.
Clutching at her chest, Aurelie points to the easel. “He doesn’t have any talent. He’s never had any! That’s why he wants yours.”
She outstretches her arms before me. “Otherwise, you’ll never leave this place like me.”
“She wants you to fail again, Luca. She wants to see you rejected. That’s all she’s ever wanted for all these artists.” Fiore struts towards us, unafraid.
"Stop telling me //lies//!" I shout at him. "You can't hide who you are from me anymore!"
“Destroy it, Luca!” Aurelie turns to me with a pleading look. “I know you can do it!”
[["I don't know how to say goodbye."]]
[["This is for you and me, Aurelie."]]"I can't look at this canvas any longer." With all my might, I strike the canvas again. Tears fill in my eyes as I aim again.
“Don’t you understand?” Fiore’s voice howls in the chamber. “If you don’t choose me, all you’ll ever be is a failure.”
[["Where are you, Aurelie?"]]
[["This is for you and me, Aurelie."]]As I spot the exit, I take one last look at Aurelie before letting go going the other way. “I’m sorry, Aurelie! I can’t! I don’t think I do this!”
"Luca, don't go! Don't be afraid!"
"But what will become of me?"
//This is my nightmare come to life.//
I hear Fiore's cackling as I speed through the hall.
Before I can escape, she grasps my hand and pulls at me from the door.
“You’re not lost anymore,” she says, holding me tight. “He doesn’t have anything to give you, but you have everything to give him because you so much to live for. You will paint again, I promise you. You just can’t let him win!”
[["Can I really do this?"]] I look to the exit, and for a moment, I envision myself running out and never looking back. Yet at once, race past Aurelie and propel myself towards the canvas.
"I don't know how to say goodbye."
I lock eyes with the distorted child in my painting as my fist rips through the surface, tearing along the boy’s expression of anguish.
“No, Luca! What have you done?” Fiore screams to the ceiling, clutching at his stomach.
As I drop to the floor, I feel Aurelie’s arms wrap around me. Tears trickle down from her eyes as a roar fills the chamber, and the hall of paintings come crashing to the floor, burying Fiore in a coffin of his own design.
Aurelie shields me tight, refusing to let me watch. “You’re not that child anymore,” she whispers as the broken paintings fall to our feet. “You don’t have to be. You found your way out of the darkness.”
At last, the sounds fade to echoes of dust and smoke.
[[Open]] my eyes.
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<source src="assets/brokencanvas.mp3"></audio>I open my eyes to Fiore’s lavish hall shattered of its former glory. My hero is no more, as his mortal form is no longer in the rubble.
“He’s sealed within the Museum now,” Aurelie says. “I don’t know if he'll ever find his way out, but this art was never his to begin with. Many years ago, he stole them from a maiden whom he never believed, nor respected.” Her eyes fill with tears.
“Are these really your paintings, Aurelie?”
Amongst the rubble, she picks up my portrait and brings it back to me. “I meant what I said, Luca. Don’t live in fear of rejection, even from yourself.”
We both hear the sound of footsteps approaching.
Aurelie stares at the window of light from the ceiling, opening to the cloudless blue skies.
“There’s a world beyond this Museum waiting for you,” she says. “There’s a cliffside I think you might really like to paint at.” She offers her hand out to me. "And we can make new memories."
As the guards and painters approach the hallway, I take Aurelie’s hand and close my eyes.
The two of us soar out the ceiling and into the skies. The sun is shining, and world is bright with awakening dreams. Even the city of Florentia is celebrating, with crimson hot air balloons scattered across the neverending blue.
For the first time in what feels like an eternity, I am truly seeing the world.
<img src="assets/balloons.png" style="border:3px solid #ffc411">
//“One does not become enlightened by imagining figures of light, but by making the darkness conscious." -- Carl Jung//
Return to [[CHIAROSCURO]]
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<source src="assets/coda.mp3"></audio>I take a long look at my painting before following her out into the crowd.
She heads to the next corridor, where the newest exhibition for Fiore’s art will be unveiled later tonight after the showcase.
I shuffle past guests, many of whom don’t care to acknowledge me. Keeping my hands to my sides, I fumble through the crowd and rush towards the exhibit hall.
Turning the corner, the girl is still nowhere to be seen.
As I return to my post, I catch a glimpse of the painting she'd touched. It's one of Fiore's self-portraits, having envisioned himself as a shadow with brilliant eyes like two pulsing stars in the night sky.
Suddenly, I hear my name being called next for judging.
[[Attend]] your showcase.Before the girl turns down the corridor towards the new exhibition hall for Fiore’s art, I take a step forward and belt out the loudest I can.
“Hey, you! Stop right now!”
I motion at the other guests to turn their heads, but they all shoot me looks of disapproval. The girl keeps running away, leaving a trail of light behind her.
Suddenly, a hand grasps my shoulder and pulls me towards my painting.
<center><img src="assets/mars.png"></center>
“What’s gotten into you, Luca?” Mars, a fellow artist, who's made a living out of painting Roman deities and oranges in every setting possible, puts a hand to my forehead. “You don’t have a fever, so what gives? This isn’t the place to be having that kind of outburst at. One false move, and you’re out of the club.”
Before I can say anything, I hear my name being called next for judging. My name echoes through the halls, followed by snickers from the other guests.
Mars lets go of me and makes way for me to pass. “The floor’s all yours now, Luca. Best of luck!”
[[Attend]] your showcase.I look to my painting, then at the girl, who heads in the direction of the renovated exhibition for Fiore’s art, which will be unveiled later tonight after the showcase.
Although I can’t peel my eyes away from her, I lock my knees together and stand by my painting.
A hand grasps my shoulder. Mars, a fellow artist who's made a living out of painting Roman deities and oranges in every setting possible, grins and admires the hall.
<center><img src="assets/mars.png"></center>
“Scoping out the competition, Luca? It’s going to be a tight race this year.” He shoots at a grin at me. “I think I’ve met all the cute ones already, and the local ones are rather interesting. What about you? Anybody catch your eye yet?"
I’m still searching for the girl, but she’s now nowhere to be seen.
[["There was a girl just now."]]
[["How can I focus on anything else but my showcase right now?"]]"What types of ghost stories?"
Mars scopes the hallways with a grin. Of all the artists here, he has to be the calmest one I've met. “They say Fiore’s ghost still lurks in these halls. I haven’t seen anything fishy myself, but a few of the other artists were saying that they've felt cold spots near the new exhibit. But I'm sure he’s not really a bad ghost at all, if you think about it. I’m sure he just wants to paint again.”
He inspects my painting, but it's difficult to read his expression. “Your painting reminds me of a ghost story too.”
Before I can say anything, I hear my name being called next for judging. My name echoes through the halls, followed by snickers from the other guests.
Mars lets go of me and makes way for me to pass. “The floor’s all yours now, Luca.”
[[Attend]] your showcase. I shake my head. “Actually, I’m named after--”
One judge turns his gaze away from me at once. "Valentino Luca is one of the few greats. If you aren't named after him, I hope you'll at least regard him as a muse."
They from their seats and circle my painting like vultures. Their expressions are vague, some dark, others somber, as if a funeral is in procession.
"Now, tell us about your painting."
I look to my painting, but it's difficult to make eye contact with my subject in the foreground. I want to look away, but the judge's gazes burn upon me.
[["His expression says what I can't say."]]
[["It's about a particular memory, sir."]]"No, but my painting is about--"
The judge waves at me to stop speaking at once.
They rise from their seats and circle my painting like vultures. Their expressions are somber, as if a funeral is in procession.
"Now, tell us about your painting."
I turn to my painting, yet it's difficult to make eye contact with my subject in the foreground. I want to look away, but the judge's gazes burn upon me.
[["His expression says what I can't say."]]
[["It's about a particular memory, sir."]] I lower my gaze. "His expression says what I can't say."
"We've noticed," another judge says, glossing over my painting. "But what else?"
I stare further down at the ground. "I couldn't put my feelings for Fiore into words, so I tried conveying them here."
Taking a step back, the judge squints at me. "I can understand if he's important to you, but we've heard plenty of the same from your fellow artists."
"He's been my idol since I can remember," I reply. "It's difficult to imagine a world without his work--"
"Then why didn't you put more of that emotion into this piece?"
[["Come again?"]]<img src="assets/cryingchild.png" style="border:3px solid #ffc411">
"Come again?"
"The subject seems to lack any sort of expression," one judge says. "Your shading isn't bad, in fact it's quite intriguing, but it's difficult to appreciate when the subject matter seems so devoid of life. If you admire Fiore as much as you say you do, then why not take more inspiration from the liveliness of his life or works?"
I silently gaze up at the //The Maiden of Incantella// looming over the judge's table.
To my surprise, the maiden's expression seems different from before. Her eyes glisten beyond the metallic paints, and her hair has twirled into a new position.
//Or am I just seeing things again?//
[["What more can I do?"]]
[["Is this a joke?"]]
[["But I--"]]"It's about a particular memory, sir."
“What sort of memory?” The judges narrow their gazes at me, then to the painting. None of them seem so convinced, yet I let out a long breath.
“Fiore's work had once been there for me during a difficult time. I can barely remember what exactly happened, but I can recall the hope he’d given me then. I knew I wanted to become a painter because of him. If there was any way I could ever tell him how he’d saved me on that day--”
One judge pushes his glasses to his nose. “That’s moving to hear, and we thank you for sharing your story, but it doesn’t really excuse the fact that this painting lacks heart and integrity.”
[["Come again?"]] I stare out into the sea of Fiore’s paintings. Many years ago, they were all I wanted to look at. I’d memorized every line, tint, and shade of each painting. "Just my loyalty?"
“Like you, my paintings unlock a piece of my memories,” Fiore says, admiring his own work. “For example, //The Maiden of Incantella// was inspired by a former muse of mine who betrayed my trust. You'd be giving me the chance to mend your memories and make them even stronger.”
[["There's no turning back, is there?"]] "Before anything, I've always wanted to tell you--"
One of the paintings begins to ripple like water.
At once, Fiore directs me to my own portrait. “If I may be bold, I think I'd rather enjoy recalling your memories instead my own,” he says. “They’re a bit more freeing, personally speaking.”
The painting behind him ripples again.
“Consider this as a form of healing from your past burdens,” he continues. “And if you find yourself doubting me right now, I should remind you that you’re truly nothing without me.”
[["There's no turning back, is there?"]] I narrow my eyes at him. "What are you really, then?"
Fiore’s smile widens. “A lost soul, perhaps? Much like yourself.”
As he mutters to himself, I scan the paintings across the room. They were all once familiar to me, yet somehow I don't know what I am looking at anymore.
“But don’t worry, Luca. I’m merely here to help you. Your selfless actions will also set me free.”
[["How can do you that?"]]
[["Before anything, I've always wanted to tell you--"]] Fiore lowers his hand, and the ripples on the portrait dissipate. “The Museum is full of secrets,” he says. “Some may call me a ghost, but I prefer to consider myself as a spirit in search of his twin flame.”
He offers his hand to me. “And you will be the one to break my spell as I break yours.”
[["There's no turning back, is there?"]] "Who are you talking to?" I scan the room, but find nothing. Only Fiore remains by the canvas, admiring his work as if he is looking upon them for the first time.
“No one of importance,” he mutters. “Although ages ago, there was an enchanting muse I used to paint for. She shone brightly like the evening star until she one day betrayed me in the most callous of ways. Unlike you, she couldn’t comprehend the true meaning of loyalty."
He twists his fingers in my direction. "All I want is your loyalty."
[["Just my loyalty?"]]
[["Before anything, I've always wanted to tell you--"]] “Where are you? How do I go back?” I cry out, but all I hear are the sounds of waves pulsing at my ear. A blinding light washes over me.
“I’ll find you, Luca!” A girl's voice pierces through the thunderous chaos. “Don’t lose faith in me!"
"He has no other choice but to let me inside!" Fiore's voice rips through the noise, and at once, everything goes dark.
[[Welcome]] Fiore into your mind.I open my eyes and find myself standing in Fiore's exhibit as before.
Three of the portraits before me look nothing like Fiore's masterpieces. They are muddled in swirls of colors as if a child had scribbled all over them.
Upon even closer inspection, the paintings look eerily just like...
“Pick one,” Fiore says from behind me. “They are yours, after all. You’re free to say farewell to them. You don’t have a choice otherwise.”
Eyes brimming with tears, I face the two distorted paintings.
//I don’t know if I’ll really be saying goodbye to them. I still don’t know where I am, but do I really want to revisit the past?//
Enter the painting, [["The Painting of the Iron Keeper."]]
Enter the painting, [["The Portrait of the Changeling."]]
As I reluctantly approach the painting of a hand reaching out from the bars, Fiore yanks me by the arm and takes me inside.
We drift in darkness until a faint whisper reaches my ear. Startled, I open my eyes as the distorted shapes shift inside the painting into the silhouette of a boy being led away by a tall, haunting figure.
I look away at once.
“What’s the matter, Luca?” Fiore’s voice is rife with amusement. “You still can’t look at it in the eye? It gives you grief, doesn’t it? How your parents had been so absorbed in one of my beautiful masterpieces to notice when their greatest treasure had almost been taken from them that day?"
[["What are you getting out of this?"]]
[["Stop talking about my parents!"]]
[["I've been trying to forget this moment."]]Without warning, Fiore grabs my arm and take me inside the painting, rippling through the surface.
We drift together in darkness. I can breathe, but cannot see nor hear the sound of my screams as we delve in deeper.
A rush of cool air sweeps over me. At once, I open my eyes to a familiar yet unfortunate sight. I want to look away, but Fiore lifts my chin to the emerging dim light.
“Little lost Luca, all alone.”
A small, tearful child huddles in a corner. As I kneel beside him, I can hear him whispering for his mother and father.
“Little lost boy left in the Museum. Little did his parents know that he’d almost been taken by a shadow.” Fiore’s voice rings in the chamber-like room. “But you don’t need this memory anymore. I can take it off your hands. So when you’re ready, you can say your goodbyes.”
I wait for the child to acknowledge me, but all he does is cry into his huddled legs.
[["Someone should find him first."]]
[["What's going to happen to him?"]]Fiore takes me by the arm and without warning, hurls me inside the painting. Darkness envelopes us as we soar down a cold, roaring path.
Midway through the journey, a rush of gold surrounds us, and a faint echo surrounds the golden chamber we land in.
“Luca!” the girl's voice echoes. “Your memories!”
“Who are you?” I struggle to ask, but with the flick of Fiore’s hand, the chamber begins to distort. “What is this? Where are we?”
“To erase her.” Lips pursed, Fiore points to a golden light before us where a silhouette of a girl holding out a crimson balloon is etched along the walls like a cutout. “She no longer belongs here.”
He suddenly pulls out a bejeweled dagger from his tunic.
[[“What are you doing?”]]
[[“Before you do that...!”]]
[[“Wait! It's her!”]]I grit my teeth at him, avoiding having to come face to face with the silhouettes. “What are you getting out of this? I still don’t know what you could do about all this. I don’t even know where we are.”
Fiore ignores me as he admires the silhouette. “This poison taints your art. You don’t need it anymore. You never did.”
He swirls his fingers along the silhouette. “Which is why you should let me take it from you.”
[["But this memory is still a part of me."]]
[["What's going happen to this memory?"]] “They have nothing to do with this! Take me back now!”
I attempt to lunge at Fiore, but he swiftly moves to the side and claps his hands together. The ground shakes and rumbles, and the silhouettes turn in my direction.
“Admit it, Luca. Your parents forgot about you because they liked me more. No matter your talents, they still won’t look at you, just like those menacing judges.”
[["What are you getting out of this?"]]
[["What's going happen to this memory?"]]I cover my face in my hands as my blood boils under my skin.
“I've been trying to forget this moment. I never wanted anyone to see this. No matter what I do, I always somehow end up painting this scene over and over again. You of all people should understand how imprisoning that is.”
“Then why don’t I take it from you?” Fiore swirls his hand along the edges of the silhouettes. “You could have one of my brighter memories instead as long as you'll let me take this one first.”
[["But this memory is still a part of me."]]
[["What's going happen to this memory?"]]"Someone should find him first," I tell Fiore, yet he merely looks away. "He can't stay here abandoned forever. Someone eventually found me."
“Having someone find you didn’t change the fact that you’d been taken and abandoned,” he says under his breath. “It didn’t matter then, why should it matter now?”
I search for the boy’s gaze, and for a second, I can see the world through his eyes. He looks upon Fiore like a towering menace.
[["But this memory is still a part of me."]]
[["Why should I trust you with my memories?"]]I struggle past my shivering to observe the child. "What's going to happen to him?"
“Exactly what you imagine,” Fiore says without the slightest shred of remorse. “I need you free of these tainted memories. They’re merely keeping you from letting me access your purest talent. Is it too much to ask of you?”
“I just didn’t think that would happen.” I gaze upon the sniveling boy. “It’s not that I want him to keep holding me back, but there has to be another way so he can stay until someone finds him. Someone eventually found me, too. I don’t remember who did, but--”
“But, what? Why would you need him anymore when you have me now?”
[["Why should I trust you with my memories?"]]
[["But there was a girl who saved me."]]“Wait, stop!" My eyes widen at the sight of the blade. "What are you doing? Why do you want to get rid of her?”
Fiore aims his blade first for the balloon. “Because she’s nothing but a thorn in your mind. I’ll never get in if she’s still here.”
He raises his sword.
[[Tackle]] Fiore and steal the sword.
[[Stab]] Fiore with the paintbrush.“Wait! Before you that...!" My voice shrills above the echoes. "Could you at least tell me who she is?”
To my surprise, Fiore lowers his dagger. “Look closely. It might be the last time you’ll ever see her again.”
I approach the silhouette. “She can do the same things you can do, can’t she?”
“She’s a nobody!”
“She’s somebody from the Museum, isn’t she?”
“She’s absolutely nothing!” Fiore grips at his locks as he suddenly points the dagger in my direction. “She’s here to drive us insane! I’m trying to do you a favor, so step aside!”
[[Tackle]] Fiore and steal the sword.
[[Stab]] Fiore with the paintbrush."Wait! It's her!" Squinting harder at the silhouette, I see faint images flash through my memories.
“Who found me again?” I say under my breath, wary of Fiore nearby. “Someone found me lost in this Museum when I escaped that day.”
“Are you sure you aren’t misremembering?” Fiore asked, glaring at the silhouette. “She’s full of witchcraft and other oddities, Luca. She merely wants you to fail.”
//Why is it that I don't think you're telling the truth?//
The golden chamber rumbles like thunder as Fiore raises his sword.
[[Tackle]] Fiore and steal the sword.
[[Stab]] Fiore with the paintbrush."Why should I trust you with my memories?" I ask. “I’ve been the biggest admirer of your work all my life, Fiore. I did everything to get here to the Museum, but I’ve never wanted anyone, not even you, to see these memories. I don’t like these memories, but I don't know if I want them to go away either.”
“You want to change, but you refuse to let go,” Fiore taunted me. “You say you look up to me, but you don’t want me inside your mind. Don’t you understand how frustrating this all sounds? You remind me of someone I once knew, a traitor who pretended to be loyal to me to the end.”
“Did she wear a crimson beret?”
Stretching his fingers, Fiore leans into me. “She can try for however many centuries to stop me, but she never will. Remember, no one dared try to save you on that fateful night. You can erase all this if you let me in.”
[["What's going happen to this memory?"]]
[["But there was a girl who saved me."]]I open my eyes to find myself at the Museum again, yet the paintings are still distorted. The chamber howls with cries and screams, and my canvas sits on the black easel.
Beside me is Aurelie at the cusp of waking up.
At first sight, she embraces me with tears in her eyes. “I’m so glad you’re awake,” she whispers into my ear, “but Fiore still wants your memories.”
[["But what about the memory I erased?"]]
[["You saved me before, didn't you?"]]I turn to him, yet all I see is coldness in his expression. "What's going happen to this memory?"
Fiore parts his hands and at once, and the child in my drawing twists into a void and bursts into ebony flames.
A new image begins to take shape from the ashes of the charcoal black painting. A man's silhouette much like the one from my nightmares stands beside a woman at an easel.
With the flick of Fiore’s wrist, a paintbrush materializes in my hand. I’m sent flying towards the silhouettes and I begin painting over them in violent strokes.
I can hear the brief familiar cries of my parents. “Luca, please forgive us!”
Yet no matter how hard I try to resist, my hand shows no sign of stopping. Fiore’s grin widens as I cover the last inch of the canvas with molten black paint.
At once, I gasp and release the brush. “What have I done?”
“There, there. Don’t you feel a little better now?” Fiore circles me with a smile, studying the paintbrush. “Or, having second thoughts? You can’t have my talent unless you allow me inside.”
As I study the void of a canvas, Fiore diverts his attention to the ceiling, which resembles a large dome much like the one at the Museum.
“There is one more painting of yours I’d like you to see,” he says. “Regardless of your feelings for me right now, you can’t escape your fate. You were never supposed to all those years ago. Come along.”
Enter the painting, [["The Gardens of the Golden One."]] “This memory is still a part of me," I say, struggling to meet his gaze. "I don’t want to let you have it. I know I’m still angry for what had happened, but I don’t want to live in a world without my parents, even if we don't speak to each other anymore."
“Don’t you understand?” Fiore circles me like a hawk. “These memories cripple your art. They’re the reason for why you have no spine, no sense of direction, and a lack of courage to create a name for yourself without holding onto my legs.”
My face burns, but as I turn away, Fiore is already there waiting for me.
“I chose you because if you truly need me, you can have me. All I want is to take your memories so they will never harm us again.”
“But not like this--” I begin, yet he grabs me by the shoulders. A cold rush sweeps through my body, and I am paralyzed as he approaches the silhouette.
[["What's going happen to this memory?"]] “But there was a girl who saved me.” The girl exploring the Museum suddenly comes to mind. "I can't remember everything about her, but I remember the light..."
//Could it have really been her?//
“That girl is nothing to you. She should remain nothing. She was something once to me, but I--” For the first time, Fiore takes a step back from me. “You’ve seen her already, haven’t you?”
I try to hold back my expression as he studies me, searching for the answers in my gaze. “I still can’t remember anything, but maybe I just don’t want to remember.”
My heart shrivels at the sight of the lonely child.
“Even if she had saved you then, you're still a mess.” Fiore traces my lips in the air. “Why not forget this memory?”
[["What are you getting out of this?"]]
[["What's going happen to this memory?"]] I rush towards Fiore in full throttle and grasp for the dagger’s hilt. The jewels sink into my fingers, yet I hold on tight as Fiore tries to send me spinning across the chamber.
“I’m doing this for your own good!” he screams into my ear. No matter how hard I try, I cannot pry his fingers off the sword, but I refuse to let go.
I lunge again, this time aiming for a kick to his chest, but Fiore’s torso goes transparent. Kicking into air, I hit the ground, and the bejeweled hilt slips past my bloody fingers.
“You really are a ghost, aren’t you?” I say, panting. “You need to get out of my mind!”
“On the contrary, I think this all proves you’re in serious need of reformation.”
As he raises his sword at me, ready to strike, a the golden silhouette swirls from behind us. A girl’s hand pops out from the painting, then floats out to the chamber.
<center><img src="assets/aurelie.png"></center>
At once, she reaches for my hand. “Wake up, Luca! You have to wake up now! Come with me!”
Fiore chokes a laugh, yet there’s an unfamiliar fear in his eyes. “What do you think you’re doing, Aurelie? I told you he was mine!”
“You don’t have much time, Luca!”
[[Take]] Aurelie’s hand and awaken. At once, I for grab the paintbrush from Fiore’s belt and before he can twist aside, I stab it into his leg. Fiore lets out of piercing scream.
The paintbrush only goes so far before it passes through him without leaving the slightest wound. I struggle to catch it before it falls, but Fiore swipes it and points the sword at me.
“You really are a ghost, aren’t you?” I say, panting. “You need to get out of my mind!”
“On the contrary, I think this all proves you’re in serious need of reformation.”
As he raises his sword at me, ready to strike, a the golden silhouette swirls from behind us. A girl’s hand pops out from the painting, then floats out to the chamber.
<center><img src="assets/aurelie.png"></center>
At once, she reaches for my hand. “Wake up, Luca! You have to wake up now! Come with me!”
Fiore chokes a laugh, yet there’s fear in his eyes. “What do you think you’re doing, Aurelie? I told you he was mine!”
“You don’t have much time, Luca!”
[[Take]] Aurelie’s hand and awaken. "But what about the memory I erased?" I ask her. "I couldn't stop the paintbrush."
“It’ll be fine, as long as you don’t let him in anymore. You’re not the first,” she says in a somber voice. “He’s not who you think he is.”
“I’m exactly who he thinks I am, Aurelie.” Fiore materializes beside my canvas. “All those years ago, what I could have done to stop you.”
“I keep saying the same thing,” Aurelie says through gritted teeth. “Luca should never have to endure what I went through.”
Fiore grimaces at the two of us. As he takes a step forward, I reach for Aurelie’s hand. “She’s lying," he says. "She’s a spawn of the devil himself, don’t you see?”
He points to his paintings. “I’ve always been the golden one, and tonight I will make my return.”
Aurelie grasps my hand. “We can’t let him!”
[["Can I really do this?"]]
[["But what will become of me?"]] "You saved me before, didn't you?" study her face. “That day at the Museum. Why didn’t I realize you before?”
“Because you’ve been burying these memories for so long.” Aurelie helps me to my feet. “Your paintings have always been a window to your soul. Maybe you haven’t healed from that day yet, but your soul is ready to break out.”
She offers her hand out to me.
As I reach for it, a thick smoke envelops the chamber. Fiore materializes beside my canvas. “Sweet little Luca has finally found his savior. Too bad she’s a spawn of the Devil himself.”
“Isn’t that who you are?” Aurelie seethes at him. “I will never let you take Luca's memories. I won't let you do to him what you did to me."
As Fiore touches my painting, it distorts again into a dark void. “I’ve always been the golden one, and tonight I will make my return. I have finally found my body to inhabit once more.”
Aurelie reaches for my hand. “We have to stop him.”
[["Can I really do this?"]]
[["But what will become of me?"]] As the chamber shakes and howls, the paintbrush materializes in my hand once more.
Paralyzed with horror, I turn to Aurelie. “Can I really do this? I couldn’t stop him before.”
She grasps for the brush, but suddenly dissolves into paint droplets.
Her eyes blink one last time before the rest of her disperses into the air.
Fiore stands before me, cackling.
“What did you do to her?” I shout over his laughter. “Where is she?”
“Somewhere, but not for long,” he says as the brush pulls me towards the canvas. I dig my feet into the ground, yet the brush drags me forward, sliding me against the floor. “Aurelie is your creation, and my muse. Had I been successful spiriting you away all those years ago, she wouldn’t have existed.”
“You're the one who kidnapped me?” I try to pull back, but the force is too strong. "And Aurelie is...!"
“She was once a real person, but she found a reason to exist to save you. You don’t need her anymore, Luca. You have my creativity. You have my artistry. You have found your emotions through me.”
I am inches away from the canvas when a golden light shines upon Fiore. Aurelie’s voice pierces through the room. “Tell him the truth, Fiore. You stole my talent and you only want him for his!”
“Where are you, you witch?” Fiore loses himself in search of her. “Don’t play games with me anymore!”
Before the brush hits the canvas, her voice seeps into my mind. “You know what you have to do, Luca! Listen to your heart!”
[["How can I do it?"]] As a golden light falls upon the entire chamber, I seize the paintbrush and give in to its control.
Yet as I begin to paint over the hole in the canvas, my mind rushes with distant memories.
//That child shouldn’t be all of who I am anymore, but he could still be a part of me.//
"This is for you and me, Aurelie."
I’d set out to the become a painter, to unleash my memories onto the canvas, yet gazing at the golden light above, I could feel Aurelie’s spirit embracing me.
“Fiore stole everything I had, my paintings, my life, my world." Aurelie's voice echoes in my head. "Don't let him take that from you, Luca.”
Tears trickle down my eyes as I drive the paintbrush in my direction, stroke by stroke, and a new painting emerges of a girl in a crimson gown, painting at an easel.
Fiore glares at me. “What are you doing, Luca? Have you lost your mind?”
The painting finishes and glows like fire before a golden light emits from the entire exhibit.
“What have you done?” Fiore screams to the ceiling, clutching at his stomach.
Aurelie’s arms wrap around me as I drop to the floor. Tears trickle down from her eyes as a roar fills the chamber, and the hall of paintings come crashing to the floor, burying Fiore in a coffin of his own design.
Aurelie shields me tight, refusing to let me watch. “You’re not that child anymore,” she whispers as the broken paintings fall to our feet. “You don’t have to be. You found your way of the darkness.”
At last, the sounds fade to echoes of dust and smoke.
[[Open]] your eyes.
<audio autoplay>\
<source src="assets/chaos.mp3"></audio><center>
<img src="assets/gametitle.png">
[[Welcome to the Museum]].
We've been expecting you.
[[References]]</center>**REFERENCES AND CREDITS**
*AUDIO CREDITS*
Gibb, Steve. //Streets of Paris.// Ocean Life Music. (2018, April 17). Retrieved from https://westarmusic.sourceaudio.com/#!details?id=21832750
//Wood, Impact.// (2019, October 15). Retrieved from https://soundideas.sourceaudio.com/#!details?id=27266747
//Vortex Evil.// (2014, September 2). Retrieved from https://soundideas.sourceaudio.com/#!details?id=11484854
Kollas, Panos. //Ciabattino Italiano - Alt Mix.// Westar Music Publishing. Retrieved from https://westarmusic.sourceaudio.com/#!details?id=22188718
*IMAGE CREDITS*
Maria, Michelle. //Florence, Italy Uffizi Museum//[photograph]. (2017). Retrieved from https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Florence,_Italy_Uffizi_Museum_-_panoramio.jpg
// || Michelle Maria / CC BY (https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0) No additional edits were made to this image. || //
Rippi-Ronai, Jozsef. (1905) //The Cook’s Child is Always Crying// [photograph].
Retrieved from https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Rippl_The_Cook%27s_Child_is_Always_Crying.jpg
//LA Balloons// [photograph]. (2006). Retrieved from https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:LA_Balloons_06.jpg.
*ADDITIONAL IMAGES*
Story Cover Background, Fiore, Mars, and Aurelie sprite images by Alexandra Mejia | Free Use Brushes by Aetherality
//Made with ClipStudio Paint + Photoshop CC//
<center> Return to [[CHIAROSCURO]].
"Have you explored the Museum for yourself?" I ask.
Mars chuckles, then shakes his head. “I just got here this morning, but I’ll be at Fiore's exhibit reveal tonight."
He points to his painting of a comely god perched on an orange tree. “I’m not sure in what state of mind I’ll be after judging, but I’m banking on at least selling this beauty to pay for my way home, and maybe a nice dinner here in Florentia. Can you imagine what some of these artists have done to attend?”
Before I can say anything, I hear my name being called next for judging. My name echoes through the halls, followed by snickers from the other guests.
Mars lets go of me and makes way for me to pass. “The floor’s all yours now, Luca. Best of luck!”
[[Attend]] your showcase.