07-27-2015, 08:40 AM
The greatest adventure of all had begun in the field. When Illae had discovered the Queen of Butterflies had fallen. The Queen’s weakened body crumpled between the grass blades a shimmer with morning dew, her wings damp and in tatters. “Eat me girl,” the Queen had said to her. “Eat me and I’ll feed you my magic.” And so of course, Illae had obliged, she scooped the dying Queen into her mouth and had ground her down to butterfly dust with her teeth. The changing was rapid. And she felt the thrum of her new power entwine and embed itself within muscle, bone and blood. With every breath, every sigh, Illae breathed colour and the ability to create. Slow at first, and then quickly, Illae had recreated her world with the vision of a child’s wild imagination. Red, for blood, for life. Yellow, for the sun. Pink, for the baby animals just like her. Green, for the grass, for the leaves and everything else wild. Purple, for the scary shadows which would be scary no more. Orange, for warmth. And blue, blue for the endless sky clear from cloud and storm.
She had painted her world bright and colourful, a home for the butterflies, where the day and the warmth of the sun would stretch endless and forever. There was no angry here, no frowning faces or harsh words. All was as it should be, and for years she had ruled with her delicate smile and eyes that did not frown. Her subjects worshipped her, and for their undying love she gifted them her imagination and her foal-like exuberance in the way she ruled their world. With big brown eyes Illae surveyed her kingdom from the sky as she stood upon a raft crafted entirely of rainbow. Her raft afloat in the sky as it was borne on the back of her butterfly bearers, the beat and flutter of their wings never failing to waver beneath the strain of her weight. It was a tough job, a tiresome job. But that was why she had selected only the chosen, those who had the biggest wings and the brightest colours, the strongest who could bare her through the kingdom safe and unhurt. It was a privilege which was never granted lightly, and as such, her chosen butterflies wore their smiles well. There were others though, few at first, but then more. Those who had come to dislike her rule, who called her child and would speak out of turn, rebel and cause havoc. At first she had listened to them, her mother had so far raised her to be impartial, and she had tried to appease their discontent. She had offered them the nectar of the finest flowers, had banished the realm of all breezes. But it was not enough, they asked too much, and whilst they lived, (her raft bearers had told her) they spread their discord through the air. She remembered when the time had come, and there had been no other choice. And Illae, still young in body, though older and wiser from her many years of rule, had told them sternly (and with her raft bearer’s unanimous approval) that her world of happiness could no longer be their home. They had glared at her, defiance and anger in their eyes, they had told her they would not go. And with her heart heavy, reluctantly Illae had agreed. No, they would not go. And so it she had them moulded into inhabitants much more manageable. She wore them now, they were the gems in her crown, their plucked wings all unique. It almost saddened her to know that each day the once weightlessness of her crown grew heavier and heavier with their dissent. But no matter, to linger on such sadness was a crime, and no Queen should disregard the laws she had held her people hostage to. Beneath her, gathering on the grass and petals below, a swarm of her charges were congregating. “Put me down here.” Illae commanded softly of her raft bearers, and they lowered her down gently onto the grass. With the grace of a queen, she stepped from her rainbow and walked through the sea of fluttering wings, she felt their eyes on her, some wearing neutral expressions and others with a tempering anger. A feeling of trepidation began to creep along the length of her spine. And Illae knew this gathering was more than just communal. “You promised us no death.” The largest butterfly turned and addressed her, gesturing at the workmanship of her beautiful crown. “They caused dissent amongst the Kingdom, it was not a choice made lightly.” Illae calmly rebuked. “No, death is death.” He refuted her, and Illae could see the sorrow and the tears well in his eyes, the anger he harboured in his heart. “There is to be no sadness here, no grief!” Illae reminded him firmly. But it was too late for that, the butterfly ignored her and began to address the gathering hoard. “Brothers! Sisters! Behind the façade is a lie! Our Queen mangles our bodies, turns us into ornaments to wear at her pleasure. Rise now with me, let us take back the crown made from the bodies of our forefathers!” There was a chorus of cheers, and the trepidation she had felt transformed into despair. She had hoped that this would not end in the way of the others. “Very well,” she said, her words like a sigh, and Illae turned to her hand chosen few, her loyalists, her bodyguards, her justice of the law. “Raft bearers!” she commanded. “Bring me their wings!” Her chosen flew out from under the rainbow raft. They were big, the largest of the largest of all the butterflies. They soared into the air, an army of righteousness for the laws of her kingdom, and swooped into the congregation of dissenters. There was a mash of wings and a whirlwind of darkness which shrouded the sun. Their bodies circled around one another, the battle only just beginning to rage. The colours of their wings bled into one another, then bled onto the ground. The blue turning to water, the red into blood. No… she thought desperately, it was not for them to wash her kingdom away. And Illae blew orange onto the blue and green onto the red. She painted with colours to stifle the flow, and yet the flow was unstoppable, and her colours joined the others to create a sea of brown. And Illae no longer stood upon the grass, but swam in an ocean beneath a darkening sky. Her kingdom faltering, drowning, being swept away. The darkness of a thousand dark wings sucking all light from the sky into a vacuum of inescapable blackness. There was no difference between her raft bearers and the usurpers now. They all wore dark wings, they were one and the same. They swooped down from the sky and plucked her from the ocean, grabbing her fur with their skinny insectoid legs which suddenly had claws. Their wings beating frantically as they carried her higher and higher. “Where are you taking me?” Illae began to sob. But they did not speak. They bore her through clouds of embers and ash, and she felt the heat sear into her flesh. “We will burn you,” they said, speaking as one. “turn your ash into dust and take back what should have always been ours.” “But you will die too.” She said through the helpless sobs of a child, and she could see that their wings already were alight with flame. “We are already dead.” And their bodies fell apart and their claws released her, and Illae fell from the sky. She fell through the burning heat, the smoke and the ash. And with the knowledge that her death was inescapable, she clenched her eyes shut. The last thing she saw would not be her kingdom deconstructed into ruin. Illae awoke her eyes wet and stinging hot with tears. The air was thick and heavy, the smoke blinding, there were embers floating in the air. It was hard to make out anything clear in the chaos, especially when her lashes were lined with ash. She felt the presence of something large beside her, a protective shadow and a comfort in many ways. And Illae turned her tiny head and pressed her muzzle into the flesh of her mother. And with the realisation she recoiled with every ounce of strength she had left, with confusion, with sorrow. Too long had past, she had been a Queen, a ruler, had built her own kingdom and had watched it fall. but it had not been real… she told herself, this was real… Her mother turned at her touch, but her face was unrecognisable, a skull with melted flesh. Illae’s eyes grew wide with horror, the smoke thickening around them. Her mother rose, skeletal and loomed above her, the cinders falling from her body along with her charred flesh. “Where have you been child of mine?” Her mother reached out to her, as if to clean the grub from her baby fur after a day’s worth of adventure. But it was wrong, it wasn’t right. And Illae turned on her heel and fled. She ran past the corpses of her herd, past the charred bodies of other animals which lay dead or still wailing. She ran into the flame for the path to her escape led straight through it. She heard the beat of wings behind her and a new learned form of terror joined in on her chaos. She did not look behind her, did not look to see if the beat of wings was butterfly or bird. Illae just ran. The slope loomed large in front of her, the scattered stepping stones of rock were the only features of the mountain slope that made ascending the mountain possible for a foal of her size. And Illae launched herself upon them and clamoured up the mountain pass. From where she stood the destruction ravaged the world below, her other home, her real home, and in Illae’s young eyes, it was a second wave of horror if you will. There was no sorrow left for her to spill, she was left empty and wondering, the confusion of a child who had been through too much and left bare. Illae stood alone, safe for now, but she did not understand. |