Thirty-seven years later, give or take a month or two and some days.
"The end of this mortal world will not begin with the death of a single butterfly but rather the assimilation of one to hundreds of fluttering wings from within the cold darkness. But now, let's not get ahead of ourselves as there are whispers of crickets coming from the rancid abyss that shadow my movements." – from the personal journal of Azure Creed:(11/1986)
The winter night dance has ended, leaving behind a magical winter wonderland in Chadds Ford, Pennsylvania. The township boasts sections that transport you back to colonial times, with stone masonry homes and ample space between them. The cold and calm winter February night would have you believe all was normal; however, the air was still and pungently sweet with honeysuckle. From out of the deep blue night, a single purple butterfly took flight, gliding across the clouds of snow that blanketed Baltimore Pike Road, a section of U.S. Route 1 that runs south to north from Florida to the New England countryside. The temperature seemed to drop as the butterfly sliced through the crispness of the air's frigid tautness. It continued its journey unabated, changing sharply toward Hoffman Mill Road as though it was aware of its destination. It darted upward and down past the historic Brandywine River Museum, which is known for housing early American illustrations, still life, landscape paintings, and even the works of famed painter Andrew Wyeth; all this, of course, is inconsequential to this story and its journey, but its factual none the less. Lastly, the butterfly had reached its destination, landing delicately on the partially frozen Brandywine Riverbed.
The butterfly scuttled along the river's mirrored surface, pausing briefly after each traveled inch as it examined its reflection within the ice, leaving behind etched images of still life within the frozen lakebed—a snapshot in time of twelve mirrored butterflies in all.
A sudden crack from the ice flooring startled the butterfly into the air. The sound intensified as line fractures veined across the ice—winter's grip loosened. Another fierce crack sliced across the surface, shattering each frozen butterfly image loose from its rigid shell. An exuberant glow from an artist's palette revealed new life; twelve butterflies appeared from within the lake, each with a bright color from powdered yellow to dark blue. The purple butterfly danced around the smaller ones, gleefully bouncing from one to the other as it welcomed its brethren to the world.
"As I had predicted," An empty sigh broke the silence. "Brandywine would be the triggering event leading us to find one of the vessels of the Great Rebirth."
Without warning, two bright headlights beamed across the river. A car door opened and closed; the sound caused the butterflies to scatter. Two feet stepped firmly onto the slippery, iced ground, a quick scuffing of the heel to heel as a thin silhouette of a man walked past the headlights—a sharp flint of a gold medallion around the man's neck twinkled as he passed.
"Xavier, do turn off the lights…you seemed to have scared the poor little things." Only Azure knows why he needed to be here.
He unbuttoned his black cashmere coat, securing the color-matched silk vest underneath as he pulled a gold pocket watch out of his pants pocket. "It is almost time," he sighed, placing it back in his pocket.
The headlights slowly dimmed as Azure looked up and noticed that the butterflies were gradually regrouping—each slowly began to descend towards his vehicle, a current year midnight blue luxury sedan.
"Do you know why we are here, Xavier?" asked Azure as he walked away from the sedan. "Let me tell you why." He stepped lightly on the ground with his arms out to each side, planting the toe of his leather loafer against the heel as he continued walking as if on a tight rope.
The butterflies immediately followed close to him, hovering over him like a moth to a flame.
"Observe…or you might miss it." Azure grinned excitedly; his face did not reveal his actual age of fifty-four years; speckled gray in his otherwise black hair and light wrinkles flared out from his squinting eyes and an arching mouth, which made him appear as though he were ten years younger.
Without cause or reason, the butterflies burst into flames, and their shattered and broken bodies disintegrated into pinpoints of bright red embers; a crow cawed in excitement from one of the trees.
"Ha!" He laughed, "What a beautiful sight, don't you agree, Xavier?" He caught a grouping of the embers as they fell delicately into his white-suede-gloved palm like pixie dust. Casually, he blew the ashes away with a soft whistling from his lips. "Why don't they ever know when to stop?" He noticed the partially charred remains of the original purple butterfly. "The silly insects gorged themselves to death on my magick, and I bet you didn't know that these butterflies feed on magick," looking back at the sedan, he discreetly picked up and examined its remains. "They are like locusts…wait…they are more like parasites," he paused in midsentence and tapped his forehead, grabbing for the racing thoughts in his mind as he tried to finish with another question to ask Xavier. Looking back at the sedan as his gaze wandered, his echoing senility had finally released it to him, "Did you know that butterflies will feed continuously on the host until draining it of all magick?"
Azure swung his right palm out, waving it from side to side as he gestured for a response, "And yes, this caused the exodus of the Fae and all others of their lineage."
Again, Xavier did not answer Azure's ramblings, which only indicated that he was bored to death or wished he were. Azure walked back to the sedan in a long, silent stride; reaching the door, he leaned against it and rapped lightly on the half-open window—startling Xavier from an apparent nap. "Xavier, I can only guess I have been boring you."
Shaking his head, Xavier tried to hide that he had been sleeping. He quickly attempted to compose an accurate reply. "But…sir, don't you find it odd that the butterflies were out at this time of the night, especially in cold weather like this?"
Azure angrily gazed down at the ground, clenching his fist as he tried to hold back his impatience. "Xavier, it is moments like these that I wonder why I even bother keeping you around. It's not like we're both fair-weathered friends any longer, and you're not in any shape to hit the dance clubs anymore. You are indentured to serve me until your dying day." He unclenched his fists. "Jessica, he angers me so. Your foolishness is the reason she is no longer with us, and for this reason, you have that debt to pay!" Exclamation points dotted across each word as he released a bit of magick in anger, causing a spark of fire from his right eye like a match strike; the crow cawed again from the tree branches overhead. "I should forgo all of it and be done with you!" He looked toward the trees to see if he could see any sign of the bird that had been watching them. He pulled the gloves off his hands and waved his right hand past the rear door, triggering it to open at will. "There is a high concentration of magick here; it is everywhere in this town…and the butterflies were here during the witching because?"
“They…hmm…they…” Xavier hesitated to answer the question and picked up a black book with a silver medallion on its cover instead, quickly flipping through its pages.
"The answer is nowhere to be found in my journal," grumbled Azure under his breath. "Please secure the book back into my satchel and place it into the trunk, as nothing must ever happen to it."
Xavier closed the book and unfastened his seat belt, flinching his shoulders in a slouch as the rear door slammed behind him as Azure entered.
"Yes, Sir…I am truly sorry if I misunderstood you, Sir."
"Daft. You are what you are," sighed Azure, "Let us get going." His eyes were glowing and deadlocked onto Xavier's through the rearview mirror. "Secure my book and let us be off, and please do not address me as Sir; titles of convenience never among...friends," he said the last word in sarcastic reluctance.
Xavier stepped out of the sedan and clumsily walked towards the trunk; unlike Azure, the years had caught up to Xavier; his black suit fit him loosely and appeared to be two sizes too big. He looked a good five years over the sixty years he was, hair grayed and body frail and thin; his arms could barely hold the weight of the old canvas knapsack as it swayed back and forth at his feet. He set the knapsack onto the ground as he unlocked the trunk, lifting the hatch compartment.
"We've known each other for so long…over thirty-five years…." Azure continued in an annoyed and loud tone. "I know I have money now…lots and lots of money…and I wear nice things to show my social standing. I mean, look at these gloves…." He waved both gloves out of the window, "They are of the highest quality!" He looked outside at Xavier through the rearview mirror, "What is taking you?"
Azure used magick to slam the trunk closed, startling Xavier backward as it missed his fingers by inches. Shaken, he quickly ran back into the sedan. "Y…YYes…sir…I mean…sorry…Azure… Sir," stuttered Xavier as Azure was still watching him from the rearview mirror. He quickly fastened his seat belt and casually moved the mirror away from Azure's point of view.
"I should apologize for my shortness…the years of servitude have been hard on you. However, I tire way too easily of all the setbacks we've had in the past…especially with the importance of the upcoming events," said Azure, his lips crooked upward as the engine hummed. "Xavier, I am fine now. Friends to your end...and maybe sometime afterward...if I have anything to say about it."
The sedan exited the trail, cruising quietly at 20mph onto Hoffman Mill Road and towards U.S. Route 1.
Azure relaxed in his seat, laying his head back as he slowly opened his palm, revealing the dead purple butterfly; its wings smashed between his thumb and index finger. "They are beautiful to look at," He whispered a short incantation to himself as he caressed its wings with a single touch of his index finger—the butterfly's wings began to move, filling its once lifeless body with new life. He rolled down the window and released it back into the open air.
"Azure…sir, did you say something?"
"Not a thing…not a single thing," He smiled as he glanced out the back window and watched the butterfly glide away. He noticed a faint speck of black in the night sky; the crow he kept hearing from the trees at the park was following the butterfly. "Xavier, this place isn't all that bad, wouldn't you agree?"
Xavier looked at his side mirror and smiled as he saw the butterfly. "Yes, Azure…sir, not bad at all." He tilted the brim of his hat sharply.
The butterfly glided softly into the air towards a large three-story house; its flight path had taken it off U.S. Route 1 and onto Concord Way, a good mile away from the riverbed. It bounced over an abrupt air current that blew in from the East, and it slowly hovered around the windows of a three-story house, finally landing softly on a third-floor windowsill. The butterfly slowly opened its wings, unknowingly triggering the house's security system's ultra-sensitive motion detectors—three strategically mounted halogen lights showered the front yard in daylight.
"Oh no… don't tell me skunks or raccoons got into the trash again," yawned Elizabeth as she glanced outside her bedroom window. Another yawn widened across her lips as she noticed the garbage cans were still upright in the driveway. She waited, watching from behind a thick dark green drape in case someone was outside. The five-minute warning ended, and the halogen lights dimmed off; all was now secure again on the premises.
"I bet the neighbor's cat was walking on the fence again. I must remind Steven to change the sensitivity settings on the motion detectors," thought Elizabeth as she closed the drape. A crow cawed from outside the window, and she didn't notice that the bird was perched above her on the storm shutters, paying no mind to the sound as she sluggishly returned to bed. "I guess I should go back to sleep."
If only it were that easy. Elizabeth had been up for ten minutes lying in bed, thinking about her current bodily condition.
Quickly and sharply, pain rolled through her midsection, an eruption of hunger.
"Sleep…what was I thinking?"
It had been five and a half months since the beginning of her 40-week pregnancy date since thirty-four-year-old Elizabeth Kincaid-Broderick slept a whole night; another twitch of discomfort signaled to her that going back to sleep for the moment would have to wait.
"Two more weeks and all this will be over," Elizabeth painfully smiled as she wished all her aches would disappear without having to go downstairs and eat the cold chicken gravy and chocolate ice cream her unborn baby wanted. A concocted mixture she craved and one that her mother, Shirley, had recommended to her. She snuggled a long, thick bathrobe around her nightshirt— the self-conscious insecurities due to her evident weight gain caused her to cringe anytime she saw herself in a mirror. "Oh, Mom, and you had the courage and strength to give birth to two of us," said Elizabeth, looking at a picture of her mother on her nightstand. The photograph showed her mother when she was her age, a good twenty years ago when she was in her thirties; they shared the same wavy brown hair, brown eyes, and gingerly sweet smile.
Her tiptoes rubbed the cold hardwood floor as she slid each foot into slippers made of warm cotton. A sudden low-pitched growling sounded behind her as she was about to get off the bed; Elizabeth's husband, Steven, had begun to snore.
"Now I'll never get back to bed… once he gets going." She decided not to wake him. "No doubt his head had probably hit the pillow an hour ago," she thought, recalling that he had told her he would be up late working on his new manuscript. Excitedly, she walked over to his desk and quickly switched on a small brass lamp, noticing piles of disheveled paper on top of its antique cherry wood finish. Hesitantly, she began reading the first couple of pages from each, and immediately, she cracked a smile, realizing it was what she was hoping for. "I am so glad Steven decided to go with his instincts and continue the series he began three years ago." She placed the pages neatly in order by number.
She was about to turn off the lamp when she saw a single page lying on the floor. She picked it up, "Oh, the title will need work," shrugging her shoulders, "' Mindslip – The Dogs of War.'" She placed the page on the desk. "But it has been long since his last book in that series was published, and most of his fans won't care what he titles it as long as he finishes it."
Quietly, she walked out of the room, pausing at the top of the staircase as she stepped softly onto the carpet. She held onto her stomach and took two deep breaths in preparation for her journey down its long three flights. Cautiously and with slight discomfort, she took the first step, resting after the second step only for a few moments as she became winded. Elizabeth loosened her robe after the first flight's end to ease the uncomfortable sweat dripping down her back and legs. The anguish of the stickiness caused her to rue the day she found this beautiful home with its long winding staircase.
A long moan hurled from Elizabeth's chest as she closed her eyes and asked herself why she loved this enormous staircase with its hand-carved birch wood construction and detailed etchings of roses along its banister. She slid each of her fingertips along the grooves of the etched rose petals—ever since she was a child, growing up in a rundown New York apartment, she had always wanted a big house with a hardwood staircase.
"You like the roses, Christian?" She rubbed her belly softly and smiled, "You're going to be such a beautiful baby," Her thoughts drifted back—It was Elizabeth's second month of pregnancy. She had awakened elated one Sunday morning in February; she had seen her unborn child in a dream. He was so beautiful and healthy, and she swore she had even felt his weight in her rocking arms as she studied his features—his eyes of deep blue like her father, Christian. She stared at his blue eyes, as they seemed to sparkle back at her—she knew from that moment that her son would be named Christian in honor of her deceased father. She sang him a sweet lullaby that her father used to sing –
'Lavender's blue, dilly dilly,
Lavender's green
When you are King, dilly dilly,
I shall be Queen….'
"Christian…"
Elizabeth at once wanted to tell Steven what happened, but it had to be a surprise—each blade of grass slipped between her toes in silence as she sneaked across the lawn where she had found Steven raking leaves in the backyard.
"I have a secret," she had whispered into his ear the name of their unborn son as she covered his eyes with her hands.
"What?" He dropped the rake, "your father?" At first, Steven didn't know what to make of Elizabeth's dream and story as he asked if Doctor Gordon had called her with the results of her last ultrasound, and he thought that that sort of information would be much too premature to speculate.
"You're not a preemie," she giggled under her breath as she remembered what had happened when the doctor told them they would indeed have a boy. "Your Daddy was so silly. Do you remember the look on his face, Christian?" Exhausted, she wiped her forehead, removed her slippers, and rubbed her bare feet onto the carpet. "Steven needs to consider carpeting the steps," She finally reached the bottom of the staircase, rubbed her stomach, and continued in a sweet sigh, "Christian, especially if Daddy wants me to give you a brother or sister."
Elizabeth stepped onto the cold clay tile floor in the kitchen—an automatic fluorescent bulb began to strobe. She dizzily stumbled around the room as it appeared to be moving. Cautiously, she walked back over to the wall and switched the light off, as the blinking made her dizzy and nauseous. "Let's add that chore to my never-ending 'Honey-Do' list for Steven." She felt her way through the moonlit kitchen towards a tall stainless-steel commercial refrigerator; the monstrosity was a surprise gift Steven had given her for the sixth anniversary of their first date. The anniversary gift had almost ended their marriage, as he had never noticed the conveniently placed advertisements for the diamond necklace she would have instead received.
She began to pour herself a glass of water when she noticed a reflection on the refrigerator door—SOMEONE WAS STANDING BEHIND HER.
Elizabeth quickly turned away from the refrigerator, fearing the shadows were not a figment of her imagination. She clasped her robe tightly and hurriedly gulped down two-thirds of the water.
"I did lock all the doors, and I set the alarm system," anxiously whispered Elizabeth as she saw that the security system was still armed. "There can't be anybody behind me," her eyes darted back to the refrigerator as she pulled herself close. Terror crept over her emotions as the reflection moved. Her eyes widened, and the intensity of her stare kept her eyes from blinking as she dared not close them; she had to focus on what was behind her. Her heart stopped as she heard footsteps approach from her left. A sudden dropping noise from behind startled her forward, pressing her face against the cold steel door. She felt something hit her feet; looking down, she saw a saltshaker—a zigzagged path of salt trailed from the corner of the kitchen. A shapely silhouette danced towards her, taunting and surreal, as its featureless and wavering visage mocked her with its swaying movement.
"There is nobody behind me, and all I have to do is turn around and walk upstairs," gasped Elizabeth in quick sharp hiccups.
A thread of light spun across Elizabeth's body like a spider's web as static electricity crackled all around with the intensity of a Tesla coil. A whirlwind of madness wove over her in an unrelenting tight void of sound and air. The kitchen spun violently out of control as her equilibrium plunged her into a sudden state of vertigo.
Elizabeth reached for the nearby countertop; missing its edge, she began to fall, and the glass of water hit the floor, spraying its shards across the tile around her feet. "Steven! God No! Steven!" She screamed as her body fell limp. She rolled onto her side and crouched in a fetal position as a young female's voice whispered over her.
"We shall not harm you…."
Elizabeth trembled as she pulled her arms across and around her stomach, shielding her unborn child from uncertain danger.
"We shall not harm HIM…" another female voice rasped.
“Where…where are you…Steven…please…where are you?" cried Elizabeth with a whimper.
"We shall not harm your child," three voices repeated softly and calmly.
The cold water from the broken glass brushed Elizabeth's back, causing her to think that a knife's stiff steel blade was gliding across her skin. She flinched and shivered, embedding the broken glass into her bare, open back. The unsettling realization of what was happening to her caused her to panic, and she finally screamed with all her might as warm, sticky liquid trickled between her legs.
"Steven, my water…it…broke!"
The erratic flicking of a light switch, followed by stumbling footsteps, sounded from upstairs.
"Elizabeth? Oh, great, the power's out! Where are you?" hollered Steven.
Elizabeth looked up at the ceiling, quickly closing her eyes tightly as she saw three female shadows standing over her. She heard Steven running down the stairs; she slowly opened her eyes and saw the beam of his flashlight bounce across the wall.
"It can't be happening now… It's not time." She moved her hand outward to get Steven's attention as she heard him approach the kitchen.
Steven directed the flashlight down towards the floor—a scraping sound caught his attention from a few feet away from where he was standing. He moved the beam slowly. "Bethy, are you in here?" He almost dropped the flashlight in trepidation as he saw his wife lying in an opaque pool of blood. "Oh my God, what happened?" The sight caused him to shiver. "Did you cut yourself on the scissors or the glass…" he noticed the broken glass all around her and a rusty pair of scissors at her feet, "…there's blood all over you."
Elizabeth tightened her arms across her stomach as he lifted her head off the floor. Her body was trembling. "Call...call the doctor." She whispered to him.
Steven set her head carefully back down, and he leaped over to the alarm system, quickly entering a six-digit code for E.M.T. Aid. He knelt over Elizabeth, positioning her upright in his arms again as he brushed the hair off her face and cradled her tightly. "Help is on the way…help is on the way….we're going to be all right…everything will be…."
A soft thunder rolled across the sky as a new storm slowly approached from the East.
"Everything is going to be all right…everything is going to be all right…everything…."
A bolt of white lightning darted across the ominously darkening sky as amber and crimson lights and the sound of sirens approached their home on Concord Way.
"Everything is going to be all right…everything is going to be…the ambulance is coming...the ambulance is coming..."
The butterfly that had rested on the windowsill drifted lightly toward the ground like a leaf broken from a tree limb. Its tiny insect body hit the pavement, shattering into pieces like glass. The crow made his presence known and flew atop the remains of the butterfly and quickly pecked at its body, cawing as the lights of the emergency vehicles neared.
Online influencers and videographers in their early twenties, Justin and his best friend Briggs, have been building quite a reputation by videotaping their adventures for their online video channel. However, tonight, they have decided to use an application that sends players coordinates to whatever objective they can think up, for the first time, using one they should have never attempted.
"Urban Exploration, Curiosities, and Nocturnal Escapades brought to you by Digital Happenstance," said Justin with a smile; while looking into his phone's video camera, he eagerly read aloud his greeting and tagline of his video channel. He pressed the start button on the application while he thought up the objective, you know, the one he should never have attempted.
"Did you choose the objective we spoke about?" asked Briggs as he secured his seatbelt and held tightly to the handheld video camera.
"Damn right, what could possibly go wrong when our objective is Black Magic*?"* Justin pressed the ignition button on his vehicle. "What will we find in the Pennsylvania backwoods?"
Two hours ago, their faces were still in shock and awe at the spectacle of light and exploding ice they had witnessed at the Brandywine River Park; you didn't know that Azure and Xavier were not alone, did you?
"Who is that?" asked Briggs in a whisper, both hiding behind bushes as they continued looking at the man standing at the start of the partially frozen riverbed. "What is he doing with that butterfly?"
"Bro, he burned them up. This is so ridiculous…." Justin turned towards Briggs, miming with a crank gesture as if he were using an old movie camera. Briggs nodded that he was getting it all on video. They continued to watch as Azure and Xavier got into their car and slowly drove away.
"Where are you going?" whispered Briggs as Justin slowly crept out from behind the bushes and walked cautiously towards the river. "What if they come back?" he whispered again sharply.
"So, guys…we saw something pretty amazing just now," Justin whispered excitedly about the spectacle he witnessed as he stared into the camera on his phone, walking toward the area where Azure and Xavier were. "Tonight, our objective was Black Magic, and I think we saw someone doing just that." Justin knelt and rubbed his fingers along scorched markings on the ground. "Look at all the burn marks. Those came from the butterflies that burst into flames when this old dude snapped his fingers together." He positioned his phone's camera towards the frozen riverbed. "Over a hundred butterflies were flying out of this river...it was amazing!" he continued, his voice elevated excitedly. Wait until you see the footage...it was totally Fantasia-like."
Briggs quickly tapped on Justin's shoulder as he noticed a glow coming from the other side of the river; the sparkling pinpoints of purple, red, amber, and yellow lights fluttered in their direction.
"Justin, I think we better get out of here," Briggs whispered hoarsely in a nervous crack as a grouping of butterflies approached them. "Butterflies normally don't glow, do they?"
Justin zoomed in on the butterflies; something wasn't quite right with the insects. He put his phone in his pocket and told Briggs they better get moving.
They raced towards their vehicle; Briggs had decided to park discreetly behind the trash receptacles in case anyone wanted to follow them; they'd had some weird stalking incidents lately.
"We good?" Justin asked as Briggs jumped into the passenger side, closing the door quickly. He was about to follow his lead and close the driver's side door when he saw Briggs with his back against the door, pointing the camera toward him as it looked like he was trying to distance himself.
"Don't move," Briggs whispered to Justin as a blue butterfly fluttered by his arm, still holding the door. It delicately landed on his hand.
Justin felt a sharp pain on the skin of his thumb like the bite of dry ice, and the pain caused him to quickly jar his hand back into the car and slam the door.
"Dang thing bit me!" Justin gasped and looked at his thumb; his skin was sizzling and bubbling like acid was eating into it.
Briggs didn't move as he continued to film, his jaw open wide in astonishment. "Dude, your thumb's gone."