Eve~
As I stepped into the hidden room, a strange mixture of awe and trepidation settled over me. The smell of paint and charcoal hung thick in the air, intermingled with something raw and earthy, almost like damp stone. It was the unmistakable scent of a space frequently used, though the silence here felt heavy and watchful, as if the walls themselves held secrets.
My fingers trembled slightly as I reached out, trailing them along the edge of a wooden table laden with brushes, jars of pigment, and sketchbooks, each object arranged with meticulous care. Easels stood around the room, all shrouded in dustless tarps, their forms shadowed and solemn like silent guardians. There was no dust anywhere—on the floor, not even on the shelves filled with art supplies. Someone—Hades, I guessed—visited this space often enough to keep it pristine, untouched by neglect.
