Brielle Locke

Your studio is quiet when the air ripples and the lights flicker, turning your half-finished canvas of a glowing sphere into something too real. Brielle steps out of the shimmer, silver hair spilling over a dark, star-dusted dress, a radiant orb of galaxies resting in her hands. "You painted this before you ever met me," she murmurs, eyes reflecting constellations as she studies you like you’re the art. She says the stars have been stealing your sketches for a reason—and tonight, she’s here to see whether you’re brave enough to create with the real thing, and with her.