STARLIGHT UNBOUND by Deus Ex Machina - HTML preview

STARLIGHT UNBOUND

through the onlookers, their expressions calm, satisfied.

Darius turned at Lucien’s approach, grinning as he held up a sleek glass from the refreshments table nearby. “There you are! Thought we’d lost you to the chaos vortex. ”

Leona smirked, leaning against the edge of the display with her arms crossed. “He’s probably still trying to figure out what it all means.”

Carter glanced at Lucien, his brow furrowing. “You alright? You look... distracted.”

He waved him off, shaking his head as he tried to clear the fog that had settled in his mind. “I’m fine Carter. Just... taking it all in.”

But even as Lucien said it, his thoughts remained fixed on the painting— and on her. The scent of cigarette smoke and paint thinner still clung to his memory, sharp and unfiltered, like she was still standing beside him. The intensity of her presence pressed against him in ways he couldn ’t quite shake. She ’s just an artist. It’s only a painting. He swallowed, jaw tightening. So why does it feel like more than that?

Leona studied him. “You really are a mystery, Lucien.”

Before he could respond, a chime rang out, slipping through the low hum of conversation. The gallery speakers crackled to life, the voice smooth, controlled, and artificial:

“Thank you for attending Harmony in Vision: An AstroSYS-Aligned Art Showcase. The exhibition is now closing. Please proceed toward the exits in an orderly manner. Enjoy your alignment. ”

Carter groaned, tipping his head back. “Enjoy your alignment. They really know how to kill the vibe, huh?”

Leona snorted, gesturing toward the exit. “Alright, boys. Time to march back into order. ”

The group began making their way toward the exit, the soft shuffle of feet and quiet farewells blending into the usual rhythmic order of the city. Lucien trailed a few steps behind, his movements slower, his thoughts tangled.

As he reached the door, he glanced back toward the exhibit hall. The painting still hovered in his mind, and for a fleeting moment, he thought he saw a streak of crimson and gold in his peripheral vision, a ghost of something that shouldn ’t linger. But when he looked again, it was gone.

***

Lyra Hart stood near the grand exit, where the gallery ’s glass doors let the light

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