I saw those camelias long before I opened my eyes.

Dazzling red, they had sparkling drops of dew on their petals. They gleamed in the light, brilliant, like blood diamonds or rubies of the highest calibre. There were at least tens of hundreds of them, all around me.

It was a summer's day. I could not see the sun, hidden by the trees with their leaves, but I could feel its warmth shine through. It dappled the soft floor, carpeted with moss and creeping tendrils of Baby's Tears.

For all its beauty, this garden did not actually catch my attention all that much; my mind was focused on the western winds, bringing with them the softest of sounds - a song?

Why did it sound so familiar?

Those notes mingled with the trickling of water from beyond my view, picking at the faintest of threads in my mind.

"When Boreas lifts his head, the angels weep their tears.

The ground pours forth its seed, the people spill their blood.

When Auster returns, the west winds halt.

Eurus and Zephyr bleed their hearts until dawn."

I followed that noise, rising from the comfort of the speckled shade. The forest path grew more and more faint, the carpet thickening.

Light peered at me from the edge of the trees, glowing.

Was that a person?

I could not see their face. As I stepped out from the treeline, they spoke.

"It... not yet... child..."

I began to slow, my steps faltering. It seemed my time here had come to an end.

Very well.

...

I opened my eyes, streams of light caressing my skin. The last tendrils of sleep fell from my eyes, pink fingers of dawn slanting to cut into our room. My companions had yet to awaken, still grasped by the echoes of exhaustion from our journey, yet I had finally felt alive after a long time. Aspen was leaning against the frame, his chest rising and falling gently in the depths of rest and Adrianne was laying on her stomach, her hair a tangled bird's nest. She stirred lightly, turning to face the wall before breathing out deeply.

The fresh morning whispered into the room and, even in the distance, I could still hear the vague echoes of that mellow song lingering in my mind.

Strange...

The last of the notes echoed in my head, fading as a small pang of bitterness began to tug at me, desperate to be heard. I'd deal with Adrianne later.

That nagging sensation was pushed aside as I savoured the song from my dream. What a beautiful song it was. I had never heard something so beautiful, even during the temple mass.

Feeling nostalgic, I made my way out the room and down the tavern stairs. Anywhere was better than here and I doubted Adri wanted to see me so soon.

Our little spat just did not sit right with me.

The Dragon's Tavern was empty now with not a patron in sight; no one in their right mind would drink at such early morning hours, anyway. The crisp cool air from outside lingered on my tongue, bleeding in the open windows beckoned gentle gusts of wind into the small room. It was strange to see the space so empty after last night; the after-image of bodies all jumbled together into one organic mass flashed before me like phantoms. The emptiness unnerved me then.

Aspen's words began to resound again, screaming at me not to speak here. Who was the Butterfly? Why was I in danger? Why should I not speak a word here? What purpose did his warning serve?

Questions danced in my head until I could not bear them anymore, rubbing my brow in an effort to dismiss them.

The old crow's gone senile. I ought not think much longer.

"Mornin', darlin'. Where ye off to a' this hour?"

I jumped, unsettled as I turned to the tavern's counter. The bartender was still there, wiping away at a mug. He had a deep baritone and a rough accent, chuckling as he watched me startle.

"Oh, good morning. I'm... just going out for a while."

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How much was I allowed to say? Surely that would have been enough.

" 'S awful dangerous for a young lass like yerself to go outside alone. Where's that lad who' was wi' ye earlier?"

"He's still asleep. I just wanted to visit the apothecary, that's all. No doubt he would never let me go on my own, knowing him."

"Would ye like some breakfast b'fore ye go?" He asked.

"No thank you, I'm quite alright."

"Wha' should I tell the lad? Ye said he's not up yet."

"Tell him I went for some medicine..."

A long silence sank in as our conversation drew to a close. The bartender was odd, holding that mug in his hand. He had strong muscles with light scars on his forearms, but he was an average man otherwise. The mundane image was odd, as if either man or cup was out of place in that tavern.

Why does everyone have so many scars? First Aspen, now him.

I suppose I stared at them for too long, as the bartender raised an eyebrow in confusion.

Leave, Eliza...

"Oberon's grace to you..." I mumbled, leaving in a hurry. The voice calling to me seemed restless, shifting in the pit of my stomach as I clenched the pendant around my neck through the shirt. The pink diamond comforted me with its weight, its soft edges brushing aside my worries.

"And you, princess."

His reply got caught up in the northern wind as I stepped outside, leaving the stifling tavern with its hollow walls and its empty atmosphere. As I walked to the apothecary from the day before, gusts blew by me, ruffling my shirt in their wake. I could still smell the scents of herbs on that wind.

I will never forget that smell for the rest of my life, even though years have passed since then.

The sun had finally begun to rise toward the east, setting the streets ablaze in its orange glow. Dust particles flew in the dawn like fireflies in the breeze, kicking up as the wind blew it in their path. Rife with the chill of the night, the air gave the whole town a comfortable temperature as stray dewdrops began to form on my skin. The sky was awash with colours, all dazzling and mingling as wispy clouds trailed their fingers.

It was a beautiful morning that day, with not a soul in sight.

Well, not a soul save the physician, that is.

She worked quietly in the apothecary, sorting out another batch of fresh herbs in crates as she looked up at me. She wore a peculiar green hood over her head, covering her eyes. I could not see her face, even in the rising sun.

No...

"Oberon's grace to you, my Lady."

I was stunned by the formal greeting. I had not even said a word yet.

"And you. May I ask your name?"

We walked inside, her trailing after me before going up to the counter. Plants lined all areas of the shop, the vines overgrown in the corner nearest to the light. A serene stillness settled in the shop. The dizzying scent of plants loomed around me, all dulling my mind.

"Emily, my Lady. What would you like?"

I looked around, gazing at the various dried herbs, poultices and concoctions all lining the shelves. The dark wooden shelves were stocked to the brim, glimmering with coloured water as flowers and roots and stems were carefully soaked in the oils. Green leaves surrounded me, scattering the light into coloured beams and a heady smell sat in the air, stagnant. The world slowed, fogging up as thoughts raced rampant in my head. I felt happy, unbelievably so, and for a moment I'd forgotten why I even came here.

Just for a moment, though.

"Something for a bruise... along with a cut, preferably against infections. Pray tell, how is it you know my name, Emily?"

She turned around, rooting through glass jars along the back wall. She eventually pulled out a small round jar with a pale green cream, settling it on the countertop.

"You visited us when His Grace was on the Inspection, my Lady. I was here, watching from the balcony when you passed by," turning back to the jar, she opened the lid, "We had a shipment of aloe from the east recently. It has yarrow and goldenrod as well."

I touched the cream, rubbing it in my fingers. It tingled slightly, but the smell was overpowering.

My mind fogged up even more.

"How is it so fluffy? Surely you haven't mixed anything in."

I looked back up at her to see her eyes sparkle. A beam of sunlight hit my skin through the window. It stung.

"Yes... we have, my Lady. We used coconut oil and beeswax to hold the ingredients together. It makes for a very nice cream."

My head began to spin again, Emily's image swimming like a mirage. The sunlight began to hurt even more. I held onto the countertop as she closed the lid, sliding it to me.

"Do you have anything for a broken rib as well?"

"Yes, my Lady. We should have a splint, or at least some bandages. Most men in the tavern end up here, hence the surplus."

The small girl disappeared behind a closed door for several minutes, leaving me there. I staggered outside, inhaling the fresh air and my mind cleared a little bit more.

How strange...

Intoxicating, I could not shake the heavy smell from my nose, nor was the dizziness subsiding much. The sun had settled into the sky, marching up to the late morning and my skin began to itch further as it danced on my skin. I stepped back inside, easing the sting.

Emily came back out of the room with a long strip of cloth in her hands, stepping around the corner to tie it around my side. It felt tight and icky, but my breathing became more comfortable as she drew near, the pain subsiding after a minute.

Eliza... Danger...

At that point, I could just make out the lower half of her face. Her smile grew eerie, dancing and shifting as I fell to the floor. Scents clogged my throat, choking as the fumes refused to budge from my lungs. My head spun faster.

Emily walked back to the counter, reaching underneath for something. On the shelf beside her, half-hidden by the register, was a small image, engraved into the wood.

A butterfly.

"Sweet dreams, my Lady." Her words sounded so far away.

Aspen's voice rang out in my head, foggy as my eyes grew closed.

Do not trust the Butterfly.

What a fool I was.