01 – Seraphina’s Secret

The people of Cavallia often talked about Seraphina. They whispered her name as she walked through the narrow streets, her fiery red hair glowing like blazing flames in the evening sun. Her dark eyes hid stories that no one dared to tell.

Some said she was an artist. Others believed she could read people’s minds.

But no matter what rumours circulated about her, one thing was certain: Seraphina left an indelible mark on the souls of those who met her.

Cavallia nestled into the rolling hills like a symphony of light and colour. Golden fields stretched to the horizon, interspersed with silvery olive groves, while cypresses lined the dusty paths like silent sentinels. The warm light of the late afternoon sun bathed the old stone walls in a deep, honey-coloured glow, and in the distance, vineyards stretched their orderly rows across the hills.

During the day, Seraphina was a quiet observer. She could often be seen in the large square, sitting on one of the old stone benches, engrossed in a small sketchbook. Her lips sometimes moved as if she was talking to someone, but no one was standing next to her.

‘Maybe she’s talking to ghosts,’ people whispered.

But if someone spoke to her directly, she would give them a gentle smile – and let the answer linger in silence.

One evening, as dusk bathed the sky in blood-red and purple tones, Seraphina entered the small gallery on the market square. The door opened silently and the room fell silent.

No one had ever seen her paint. No one knew where her art came from.

But that evening she presented a painting.

A man in the crowd cleared his throat. His voice was quiet, almost reverent.

‘Who is she?’

Seraphina stroked the frame with her fingertips, as if sensing a touch from long ago. A shadow flitted across her face, barely perceptible. Then she lifted her gaze, her dark eyes sparkling.

‘Someone you will never forget,’ she said – and for a moment it seemed as if she knew more than she wanted to reveal.

No one dared to ask any more.

But as night fell and the city shone in golden lantern light, the image remained in her mind.

And Seraphina?

She was gone with the first ray of sunshine.

Her house was empty.

But the portrait in the gallery remained – a silent echo of her existence.

No one knew where she had gone.

But elsewhere, in a city that never slept, another woman with fiery red hair glided through the alleyways – as silent as a shadow, as fleeting as a dream.

The journey doesn't end here - it's just beginning! Where does the journey go? Find out. Sign up for the newsletter and discover new horizons!

Seraphina’s Secret

Oil/Mixed Media on canvas, 80 x 100 cm

Price for the original available upon request – [click here]

☕ [Seraphina as a mug – for your mystic pause]
🖼️ [View Seraphina as a poster on Etsy]

They say she’s woven from stardust –
born in the silence between two thoughts.
Seraphina carries the light of spaces
we rarely enter: the inner ones. The hidden.

Her spiral is not adornment – it is a path.
A sign for those who wish to remember
that even darkness can be a beginning.