LYRA POVEven though the room was dimly lit, it couldn't hide what surrounded me. Drawings. Everywhere I looked, there were drawings of me.Me standing in the garden, sunlight catching my hair. Me sleeping, my face peaceful and relaxed. Me walking through corridors, my dress flowing behind me. Me laughing at something, joy captured in careful pencil strokes.My hands shook as I reached out to touch one of the papers. The detail was perfect. Every line of my face, every strand of hair, every small expression—all captured with stunning accuracy. Whoever had drawn these knew my face better than I knew it myself.But who? And why?I moved along the wall, studying each drawing with growing confusion and something else I couldn't quite name. Some were simple sketches, done quickly as if to capture a fleeting moment. Others were elaborate portraits that must have taken hours to complete.All of them were beautiful. All of them were me.Then I spotted something different amongst the d
Last Updated : 2025-12-22
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