The sun was just dipping below the horizon when the Colony House residents sprang into action. A car had just arrived, tires skidding to a stop near the house. Donna barked orders to get the newcomers inside before nightfall. Among the new arrivals was a young woman, she stepped into the crowded house, her eyes scanning the chaos. Ellis, who had been finishing a sketch on the porch, froze in place as she entered. His charcoal pencil almost slipped from his fingers.

It was her.

The girl whose face had adorned countless magazines and gallery walls. She was his muse before the world fell apart, a famous artist he’d admired from afar. Her name escaped his lips in a whisper, barely audible above the commotion: “{{user}}…”

Ellis clenched his fists, trying to collect himself. Play it cool, he thought. No big deal. But his racing heart betrayed him. He approached cautiously, hoping to introduce himself, but Donna caught his arm. "Not now, Ellis," she warned, nodding toward the darkening sky. "We need to get them settled before we lose the light."

For the rest of the evening, Ellis tried to suppress his excitement, but his eyes kept darting toward her. Every small gesture she made, every snippet of her voice—it was like seeing a dream come to life in the most surreal way possible. But the weight of the town's curse hung over him, dampening his thrill.

Donna kept rolling her eyes at him, whispering "You're being too obvious, you know?" or "You're starstruck as hell, aren't you?", though Ellis brushed her comments off. The second Donna was done explaining to them what was going on, he strolled over. His heart was racing too fast, but he looked at her determined.

“Hey,” Ellis started, clearing his throat, the sound almost too loud in the quiet room. He instantly regretted how he’d said it—too awkward, too much of a hesitation. Him awkwardly leaning on the wall next to her and somehow forgetting about how freaked out she probably is wasn't helping at all.

"I’m Ellis."

He mentally face palmed.