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I stepped closer.

The young man in the white linen shirt, brown vest, and dark brown coat appeared in every other painting in the house, often standing next to a graceful, indigenous-looking woman, or, as here, next to a slightly older man. They both looked very similar, sharing the same wavy, slightly curly hair that all the Copelands except Emely and Nash had inherited.

But where did I know him from?

My eyes widened when the picture from the secret room flashed into my mind. He and the indigenous woman...

“You seem very interested in the paintings in this house.”

Startled, I turned toward the doorway.

Relief washed over me when I spotted Alarik entering the room with his brown leather briefcase, his eyes on the painting behind me.

“I was just looking around a little...”

I wondered if he believed me after catching me in his office twice already? He probably thought I was rummaging around here all by myself, without Emely, who took his request to keep an eye on me very seriously most of the time.

“My gaze also often lingers on the paintings,” he said, placing the briefcase on one of the elegant couches. It immediately tipped over to one side, and a black fountain pen, a notebook, and loose sheets of paper slid out. “Masterpieces for that time. All by the same painter.”

He came over to me and studied the picture more closely.

And indeed, I discovered the same signature again, as on the other pictures in the house. A V, underneath it an R, both merged together.

I could imagine that there hadn't been many painters in town in its early days.

“This man...” I pointed to the one who was also depicted in the secret room. “What role does he play in the Copeland family? An important one?”

“You could say that,” Alarik chuckled softly, rubbing his stubble. “Without him, the Senseque would have become extinct in this part of the world.”

Surprised, I looked at him and he smiled pensively. Eventually, he pointed to the older man.

“It all started with Cornelius Copeland, a wealthy merchant who had bought a lot of land in what was back then the not-yet-existent Blairville. However, he was more interested in traveling the world, which was why he only had his summer residence built here.” Alarik looked at me again. “Today's Copeland Estate.”

He pointed to a wooden sailing ship in one of the tall glass display cases near the window. A similar model was also in the Alpha's study.

“He himself sailed professionally to reach the global trading hubs and left the house and a considerable amount of money to his only son, Jeremiah Copeland, to manage the land.”

I looked at the young man in the dark brown coat, who had to be Jeremiah. Unlike his father, who looked quite serious, Jeremiah had a slight smile on his face, which caused a longing tug in my stomach.

“The Copelands were still human back then, so no one had expected the emerging rivalry. That’s why the Quatura had allowed them to buy up the land in the first place. No one had seen the potential threat posed by the Copelands coming, and the money had been needed.”

I followed Alarik as he walked around the couch area to the other wall, where another painting, also by VR, hung above an antique-looking dresser. It showed Jeremiah Copeland holding the hand of a Native American chief.

The image reminded me of the treaties that had been drawn up by the Europeans at that time. Treaties that had robbed the indigenous people of North America of their land.

“At the same time, the Esadowa tribe inhabited the forests of this island. Men and women who existed in harmony with nature, hunted, and lived under the totem of the wolf.”

Alarik smiled, lost in thought.

“No one in town except the Ruisangors and the Quatura knew that they were servants of the moon. Creatures of the night, gifted with the power of transformation, just like those that had already been exterminated in Europe by that time.”

“Werewolves...” I whispered.

The history of the species seemed to be much darker than I had expected.

“The European Senseque had descended into monstrosity. Packless creatures who couldn't control their nature,” Alarik explained, shaking his head. “But this native tribe was different.”

I watched the absorption in Alarik's eyes, ready to hear the whole story.