Part 1
The atmosphere in the Chronosentinel Order's briefing room was tense. On the holographic table, Grecia's picture diary was digitally open, its heartbreaking final page the center of attention. Kael, Rina, and Commander Kirana stood around the table in silence. On another screen, a recording of the "living art" in the Volkov studio was replaying, a phenomenon the Order's best technicians were still trying to analyze.
"So, the conclusion is clear," Commander Kirana finally broke the silence, her voice heavy. "The Phantasm 'Chroma' is a manifestation of the emotional echo of a girl named Grecia, the adopted daughter and student of the late Vincent Volkov. The trigger was a combination of illness, despair, and a profound sense of failure."
Rina nodded, her eyes staring blankly at the drawing in the diary. "Father's criticism… it was the final trigger. He didn't know how fragile Grecia was at that time."
"And the phenomenon in the studio," Commander Kirana continued, "we're calling it 'Residual Resonance'. The strong emotions left behind by two artists—your father and Grecia—were triggered by the intruders' presence and your own strong emotions, Rina. The place itself has become a sort of Echo-class Phantasm, a 'guardian' protecting the memories within."
Kael, who had been silent until now, finally spoke up. "So, what's our next step? Chroma is calm, but the core issue isn't resolved. Her longing for her father's 'acknowledgment' is still there. If we don't resolve it, she could become unstable again."
This was the heart of their dilemma. How do you give closure to a soul whose father is already gone?
"There's one thing we can try," Rina said suddenly, her eyes showing a flicker of new resolve. "In the diary, Grecia said she couldn't finish the portrait of father. That painting… it might still be in the studio."
Commander Kirana looked at her. "You want to go back there?"
"Yes," Rina answered firmly. "If the painting is there, and if we can 'finish' it for her, maybe it can give her the peace she's looking for." She then turned to Kael. "But I can't do it alone. I need your help. I need your resonance to 'feel' what Grecia wanted to paint."
The request was deeply personal. Rina, the logical agent, was now asking for Kael's help on a mission based entirely on emotion and art. This was a major shift in Rina's character.
"Of course I'll help you," Kael answered without hesitation.
Part 2
That evening, Kael returned to the apartment with mixed feelings. He found Elara and Lyra watching an animated movie in the living room, while Chroma sat on the carpet, surrounded by drawing papers.
"How was the mission, Kael?" Lyra asked, immediately coming over to him.
"We found a clue," Kael replied. He then crouched down in front of Chroma.
The little girl looked up. In her hand was a blue colored pencil. She was trying to draw again.
"Chroma," Kael began gently, "we found your diary."
Chroma's body tensed slightly.
"We know about your father's portrait. The one you couldn't finish," Kael continued. "Tomorrow, Rina and I are going to the studio to look for it. We... we want to try and finish it for you."
Chroma looked at him, her gray-blue eyes starting to well up.
"Will you come with us?" Kael asked. "Will you show us… what the painting is supposed to look like?"
It was a risk. Bringing Chroma back to a place filled with traumatic memories could trigger her instability. But Kael felt this was the only way. The healing had to come from Chroma herself.
After a long silence, Chroma gave a very slow nod.
The next day, the small team returned to the Volkov Atelier. This time, they didn't sneak in. The Order had set up a tight security perimeter around the building to prevent any attacks from Crimson Hunt.
Kael, Rina, Lyra, and Chroma stepped into the studio, which now felt sacred. The "art ghosts" remained still, as if sensing their peaceful intentions.
Rina led them to the study on the second floor. There, leaning in a dark corner, they found it. A large canvas covered with a cloth, different from the one they had seen yesterday.
With bated breath, Rina removed the cloth.
On the canvas was a half-finished portrait of Vincent Volkov. The sketch was complete, showing his dignified figure with a sharp gaze. Some base colors had been applied, but most of the canvas was still empty. This was Grecia's failed masterpiece.
Chroma approached the painting, her small, transparent fingers almost touching the canvas. Gray tears began to stream down her cheeks again.
"I… I couldn't…" she whispered. "The colors… were wrong."
"Then teach us," Rina said, her voice gentle yet firm. She picked up her father's palette and brushes that were lying nearby. "I may not have talent like you or father, but I am his daughter. I will try."
She turned to Kael. "Kael, feel it. What did she want? What colors are missing?"
Kael closed his eyes, focusing his resonance on Chroma and the painting before him. He didn't sense colors, but he sensed the emotions that were meant to be painted.
"It's not just an ordinary portrait," Kael said. "She… she didn't want to paint the 'maestro' Vincent Volkov. She wanted to paint 'dad'."
He felt Chroma's longing. "She wanted to paint the warmth in his eyes when he smiled, not his sharp gaze when he criticized. She wanted to paint the color of pride, not just the color of realism."
Rina understood. This wasn't about technique; it was about feeling.
"Chroma," Rina knelt beside her adopted sister. "I will hold the brush. But you will guide my hand. Let's finish this. Together."
Chroma looked at Rina, then at Kael, then at Lyra who stood guard near the door. She was no longer alone.
With a trembling nod, she touched Rina's hand that held the brush.
And so, the strangest painting process began. Rina held the brush, Kael became the translator of emotions, and Chroma became the guide of the soul.
"Warmer," Kael whispered. "Around his eyes, add a little gold, like the morning sunlight."
Rina, her hand stiff at first, began to apply her strokes, following Kael's direction and the vibrations she felt from Chroma's hand.
"His smile," Kael continued, "not a wide smile. Just a small upturn at the corners of his lips. The color of quiet contentment."
Slowly but surely, the painting began to change. The portrait of a cold and intimidating maestro transformed into the portrait of a warm and loving father.
As the final stroke was applied, a soft light emanated from the painting.
Chroma stared at her masterpiece, now complete. She was no longer crying. For the first time, a small, fragile, genuine smile bloomed on her lips.
"Dad…" she whispered.
Her body began to glow with a peaceful, pale blue light. She didn't vanish. Instead, her form became more solid, more real. Her gray tears turned into small blue crystals that fell to the floor. Her Brush of Apathy never appeared again.
The Lunanima Core within her had fully stabilized. She had found her peace.
The emotional echo of a lost child had been healed.