The Studio After Hours

Canvas City never really slept — neon signs blinked all night, humanoid deer with velvet antlers strolled the sidewalks, and delivery drones buzzed between the skyscrapers like restless bees. But inside Solitude Art Studio, high above the city's center, everything was perfectly still.

Super Artist stood at his favorite easel, blue-and-black supersuit slightly splattered with paint, red cape folded neatly over a stool. His glowing hands moved slowly across a canvas — not fighting anything tonight, just painting. Colors poured from his fingertips: deep violet, warm amber, electric blue.

"Better than yesterday," he told himself.

He stepped back, tilting his head. The mural on the far wall caught his eye — a massive painting of a forest he'd finished last week. Tall silver trees, a glowing pond, a narrow bridge.

Something felt different about it.

He squinted through his blue goggles.

The bridge in the painting — had it always had a figure standing on it?

The Visitor Who Wasn't Painted

Super Artist leaned closer to the mural, his blue goggles nearly touching the painted canvas.

The figure on the bridge was moving.

Not like a person walking — more like a painting trying to decide if it wanted to be real. Then, with a sound like a wet brush dragged across thick paper, the figure stepped out of the wall.

He was tall — a humanoid deer, which meant he had a deer's head, a pair of short velvety antlers, and large dark eyes, but stood upright like a person. He wore a paint-spattered smock and held a thin wooden brush in one hand.

He landed on the studio floor, blinked twice, and looked straight at Super Artist.

"You painted this place, didn't you?" the deer said. His voice was low and careful.

"Yeah," Super Artist said slowly.

"Then you need to know." The deer's grip tightened around his brush. "Someone built a trap inside your painting. They're waiting for you to walk in."

Super Artist stared at him.

"Who are you?"