Threads of a Gilded Clock

The morning light over Florence was paler than usual, streaked with the tired blues of a sky not yet warmed by the sun. Aurelia's steps felt heavier than the day before, her body aching with the reminder of her relentless work the past few days.

She had been doing minimal work since her Pheonix painting, experimenting and helping paint small, easy peices, but even though they were small she couldn't believe the price tag that had been on all her paintings, like there was more than just the art they were paying for, perhaps the experience to just be in the building or to meet Lucas Moretti.

Now, as she pushed through the glass doors of Aurum Arte, she blinked against the brightness of the lobby lights. The air smelled like lemon polish and espresso beans. Her eyes stung, her limbs dragging slightly, but there was a thread of pride stitched tightly into her exhaustion.

Bianca was waiting, perched near the welcome desk with two tiny paper cups and a white pastry bag in her hands. Her expression was unreadable at first, caught between a smile and something more guarded.

"You still look like a painting that's been left out in the rain," Bianca said with a lopsided grin, offering one of the cups.

Aurelia managed a breathy laugh. "Thanks. That good, huh?"

"You didn't go home until after midnight the other night, and you've been working hard the past week," Bianca replied, her tone softer than before. She handed over the bag next. "Espresso and sfogliatella."

Aurelia took them gratefully, sipping the espresso as they walked through the quiet hallway toward the art department. Something felt different in Bianca's manner-her words were the same, but the rhythm was off, like a melody played half a beat too slow, and less sarcasm.

"Everything okay?" Aurelia asked cautiously.

Bianca shrugged, brushing a lock of dark hair behind her ear. "You made quite the impression the other day. Not many people impress Lucas Moretti or the top tier clients who bought your peice."

"That's a good thing, right?"

"It's... something," Bianca said with a cryptic smile.

They turned the familiar corner, past the sleek walls of the chemical department and the leather working division, where muted sounds of tools and machines echoed faintly. As they reached Aurelia's private studio, Bianca paused before opening the door.

"Your next big commission is already waiting inside," she said, her hand briefly touching the door handle. "And if you need anything-anything-you come find me."

Aurelia nodded, unsure why her chest suddenly felt tighter. "Thanks, Bianca."

Inside, the studio was bathed in the cool white light of early morning. On the long wooden table, set precisely in the center, was a cream-colored envelope with her name written in bold black ink. The smell of fresh paper and paint lingered in the air.

She set her breakfast down, peeled back the flap of the envelope, and pulled out the new assignment.

Another commission. Another challenge. But this time, she felt the pressure press down on her shoulders more sharply, as though unseen eyes were already judging her next move.

Outside, the city stretched into a new day, but within these walls, something had shifted. Aurelia could feel it, an invisible current winding its way between her, Lucas, and this place that had already begun to reshape her world.