It’d been a while since Vora, Darcie, and Maive had been to the Cathedral Mall in the town of Ashvale, just north of O’Landra. They would go to shop or hang out several times during the summer. Maive, who came from a fairly wealthy family, had her butler, Albeit, drive the trio of giggling girls.

As the name suggested, the mall was created from an old cathedral from a long-lost false religion. Its restored beauty gave a wonderfully pleasing and modest appearance to the HCs that drove by. Inside the massive cathedral was much gaudier and louder to the eyes. Gothic architecture mixed with modern-day stores. Stained glass windows warped the light that shined down upon hands holding burgers. Food, clothing, jewelry, and much more were abundant inside this massive cathedral.

Vora, Maive, and Darcie were on the second floor. Vora coveted a silver bangle in a jewelry store display case beyond the storefront window. She greased the glass with a nose print and soaked in the sparkles of jewels and the flashiness of precious metal. Brass really wore on her fantastic aesthetic, and seeing it everywhere brought down her mood.

Darcie and Maive were at the clothing store across from Vora, trying to pick out some fashionable clothing. Maive’s difficult quest was to update Darcie’s dress-wear for a school dance. Based on her closet, Darcie had the same tastes as a farmer’s wife—Darcie insisted that was the point. Everything Maive offered was stiff, concealing, and uncomfortable.

Between the girls, benches were cupping an elderly couple’s bottoms. They argued about dinner. Above their heads was drifting dust created from time. The roar of a running train outside was dulled from the cathedral walls. A child cried over his sibling stealing food.

“Oh, Vora.” Maive waived daintily across the room.

Vora responded to the callout by doing a one-eighty on her toes like a trained ballerina. She threw up an eyebrow as if to ask, “What?”

Darcie held up a baby-blue dress with an explosion of white frillies. “Do you think this matches amber eyes? It’s a perfect fit, and it’s on sale.”

“No,” Darcie muttered, angry about the bow stuck on her head. “Be better rags.”

“Don’t be rude. It’s a nice dress who’s done nothing wrong.”

“It’s not alive, Maive. Yer killing me.”

After a groan, Vora called, “No. Purple or navy for amber, not—I’ll come over there and help. Leave it to the professional.”

Midway through her transport, Vora halted and lurched with pain. She placed a left hand over her whitened eye. The skin around it cracked, and building energy grew in her skull.

Why now? Why now? Why now? Vora thought in a panic.

After exchanging glances with Maive, Darcie said while approaching, “I knew that shake would wreck your stomach. That’s what you get fer having too much cow juice, Ms. Intolerant One.”

“Just stay away. Give me a minute.” Vora pleaded. “I need to rest. I’ve developed dizziness.” The power was building, and the cracks spread throughout the left half of her body.

“You about to ruin the floor? I’ll take yah to the toilet. I’m not afraid of puke like you two dainty lasses,” Darcie laughed.

“Hey, Vora. Fancy meeting you here. Are you okay?”

Vora turned to the boy grasping her shoulder. A face of pure concern stole Klev’s usual ugly mug.

“Klev,” Vora whispered. “It’s happening.”

“What’s happening? Is it some… lady thing?” he asked coyly.

“No. My powers thing.”

“What powers thing?” Klev jolted back when he caught Vora’s face. “This isn’t Vora. What is this thing? Some Soot?”

“Must be a Soot,” Maive confirmed as she and Darcie distanced themselves. “Look at how foul it is.”

Vora’s beautiful violet hair slowly whitened from roots to tips on the left side.

“Did I hear Vora’s name? She’s here as well?” came a woman’s voice.

Vora’s parents left a store and saw their daughter in a mess. The girls asked Rudolf to say back, but he disregarded them and went to help his daughter. Madeline followed behind.

“Vora, what’s wro—” Rudolf’s assistance ended before it began as many butterflies pierced his stomach and chest.

Madeline gasped as her husband fell. She held him as he bled, cracked, and writhed in pain. His eyes goggled with thick red roots in unwavering torture.

“Father!” Vora squealed and reached for him, but Madeline kicked her away, slamming her heel against Vora’s cheekbone. “Why? Mother, it’s me. I’ll save Father. I swe—”

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“Someone help! Find a Chime. There’s an ungodly monster here. She hurt my husband.”

“Mother. No.” Vora’s body cracked all over, and thousands of butterflies burst from her. She watched her family, friends, and world shred and break around her. “I’m”

The right half of Vora’s body now mirrored her left. Her skin was pale and clammy, and aesthetically fractured. Her hair and eyes were white as a corpse, and her lips purple. The mall’s walls, floors, railings, windows, and benches were glazed by beautiful crystals of many spectrums of light. The people within shared a similar fate as parts of their bodies were taken by the solidified pain.

Take their agony and make it beautiful.

***

In her baby-blue nightgown, Vora slapped water against her cheeks and dry heaved over the sink. She released a dribble of foul, acidic liquid. After wiping her mouth with a towel, she splayed on the cold tile floor. There was the clicking sound of her parents’ door opening, and the thud of her father’s footsteps was like cannons at the back of her skull.

“Honey?” came the tired voice from around the corner. “Are you alright? Are you decent?”

“No, and yes.” She lifted her forehead while her father’s drowsy mug slid into view. “I think I ate something foul. Food poisoning, maybe. There’s more out than in going on right now,” she joked weakly.

“Must have been the chicken. Undercooked. My stomach has been hurting as well. Grab the medicine from the cabinet’s top shelf—the good stuff—and return to bed. Don’t tell your mother. She’s been upset about her aunt’s illness lately.”

“Sure.” Vora threw up a fist, proudly shooting a thumb. “Goodnight, Father.”

After she confirmed her blonde-bearded caregiver was back in his room, Vora returned to her feet, cracked the window, and stuck her head out. The cold air chilled her sweat. A nightmare beyond nightmares. It could come true. She had to learn how to control these strange powers of hers. She could have easily killed Klev at the factory, and what would she do then? How could she live?

While brushing her teeth to get the taste of regurgitation off her tongue, she decided to train her abilities and learn control. She could practice in her bedroom.

No. If I lose control, I will end up ripping apart the house. I could practice on random Soot in the city. Anything inanimate is no good since I would run myself dry. Unless I want to stab myself again.

Vora exposed her upper thigh and gave her nearly-healed wound a once over. Since she had the opportunity, she cleaned the wound and changed out the bandage. She shook her head disappointedly at the girl in the mirror.

You couldn’t pull something that stupid again. I could hunt Soot around the city—best option for living creatures. Cleaning up the neighborhood a bit would be a bonus. Klev will not like this idea, but I can sweet-talk him into agreement.

After Vora cleaned up, she didn’t want to go back to bed yet. She went downstairs and into the living room. She snapped on a lamp and sat in her father’s main chair. She crossed her legs and placed her chin on her palm with a frumpy look.

I have time after school to go around. That would be too bright out. I could sneak out when Mother and Father have their date nights. Oh! I could get a night job. I’m old enough now to do so. Then I could work around my work, so to speak. I’ll need some disguise to hide myself—something dashing, of course. Something to match my—what am I even?

The bookshelf caught her eye—rather, a book on it. Right next to a red book with gold type was a big, floppy children’s book she read when younger. She slid it out and flipped through the pages. It was about a witch from the woods who stewed monarch butterflies in her potions to make poisons for a king’s army to weaponize. Ultimately, they burned the witch after the war was won, fearing she’d assist another country one day.

My powers are like magic in appearance; A witch is more fitting than anything. I’m the Crystal Butterfly Witch of Beauty. Too long and gaudy: I have standards. I’ll keep it simple and call myself the Monarch. And my powers… Vora made a fist and created a pink crystal. The essence of agony. Eoa for short. Now, I need to find a job.

***

“’scuse me, young lady,” said the man as he carried a box of roses passed Vora’s head upon exiting the shop.

Vora didn’t heed him any mind as she was iron-locked on the man at the register. When it was her turn to go—as Crowdon had beaten into her—she slapped the tanned parchment with cursive writing in top-brand black ink onto the counter.

Vora drew a determined breath. “I would like to be employed here under the job of ‘late night inventory and care’ if such position is still open if you’re advertisement on the school campus is updated—this is my resume—I know I do not have any employment, but I’m a fast learner and pretty.” After Vora had said that all in one breath, she returned to regular respiratory patterns.

The man at the counter was tall, thin, and shaggy. He had brown hair and peach fuzz and a sucker stick hanging out his mouth. His eyes were beady and tired.

The man picked up Vora’s resume. “This is some fancy paper you have here. Do you have any more resumes?”

“I’ve got a proper amount.”

“Good.” He crumpled up Vora’s resume and tossed it into the trash. “Go home, kid. Bell bless.” He slumped over the counter and averted his eyes elsewhere.

Vora had never been so insulted. “How dare you. You hadn’t even read it.”

“I don’t need to. You are thirteen, annoying, spoiled, and also annoying. Thank you, miss. Have a lovely day,” the man said with a smile at the husky woman who bought a cherry top. They resembled big dandelions but were red instead of yellow.

“I need this job.” It is perfect in distance, timing, and convenience. Also, the hours I would work vary.

“No, you don’t. And I don’t need you.”

“I’ll show you.” Vora stormed over to a middle-aged, balding man debating over a group of perennials. “Hello, mister.”

“Oh, my. Hello.” The man smiled. “You’re adorable. Just like my little Lisa.”

“Which ones are you looking at?”

“Not sure yet. Yellow, blue, red. They’re all the same to me. But it’s my wife’s birthday.”

“If I were your wife, I would want one of every color. That would surely show that you love her unconditionally.” Vora smiled cutely and clasped her hands at her left collarbone.

“You think… It’s quite spendy. Oh, I guess it’s her birthday. I’ll do it.”

After the man purchased the flowers and left, the counter man pulled out his sucker and said, “You’re pure evil. I’ll give you a chance, but I’m not paying you worth a crap.”

“That’s fine.” I don’t need the money, just the excuse.”

The man went over to a cabinet and gave Vora a sheet. “Since you’re under fifteen, you’ll still need your parent’s permission. Get that filled out, bring it back to me, then I’ll put your lazy butt to work.”

“Yes, sir.”

“It’s Bernard. I’ll know if you forge, by the way. I know everything, Vora Snihde.”