In a candlelit room where the shadows swayed, An artist toiled as the colors obeyed. Her brush was swift, her stroked were light, Yet something whispered in the dead of night. A face emerged from the canvas bare, A stranger's eyes with a hollow stare. Unbidden hands, unshaken grace, She painted lines she'd never traced. The lips were pale, the brow was high, The gaze like thunder in a dying sky. Each