Constance Ashworth's Arc

Chapter 4 of 4

Constance sat at her writing desk and composed a new notice. This one would be different from the first. She listed her requirements in precise terms—knowledge of underpainting, skill with glazing techniques, experience in dimensional brushwork that changed with viewing angles. The words filled half a page. She folded the paper and sealed it with black wax. Tomorrow she would post it at the Forgotten Gallery where serious artists would see it. The unqualified would eliminate themselves. Only someone with real mastery would respond to such specific demands. She set the sealed notice beside her teacup and looked out the window at the city's angular rooflines. The search was narrowing now, becoming sharp and focused like a blade finding its edge. The morning walk to the Gallery took her through the oldest quarter. She turned down an alley she'd never noticed before. The buildings blocked most of the sunlight here, creating shadows that lasted all day. Against the brick wall, she spotted something unusual—a flower growing from a crack in the stone. Purple light pulsed from its petals despite the darkness around it. She crouched down and leaned closer. The glow shifted and moved like liquid. Whispers came from the flower itself, sounds too quiet to make out clearly. She tilted her head and listened. The petals seemed to mouth secrets about the walls around them, about hidden rooms and forgotten doors. This plant only bloomed in shadow, revealing beauty that daylight would destroy. She touched one petal with her gloved finger. The whisper changed pitch, responding to her presence. Here was the answer to her portrait problem made physical—something that showed its truth only to those who looked in the right conditions, at the right angle, in the proper darkness. She stood and continued toward the Gallery with the sealed notice in her hand, certain now that what she wanted could exist.