The Prince and His Butterfly

Chapter 5: Beckett

“Edmund—“ I say, touched by the emotion in his words.

“Just—“ He looked at my face, terrified. “Don’t die. Please.”

I clap his shoulder. “Have you no faith in me?” I grab the back of his neck and force him to look at me. “I will succeed.”  

His eyes seemed doubtful, but he nodded. “Goodbye Principe.” He turned to leave.

“Edmund,” I said, letting my inner insecurity show in my voice. “If anything happens to me,” I grabbed both his shoulders. “I have a stack of letters on my desk in my room. Hand them to the people they are addressed to. Open yours last.”

“Why—“ He began to ask but I shook him.

“Don’t. Just know that even though we haven’t known each other long, you are like a brother to me.” I pushed him. “Now go!”

His eyes filling with tears as he ran away from me and my heart twanged. If I died…

“Principe,” said a voice from inside the shed. It was hypnotic and powerful. So powerful….so persuasive….

Da told me to submit to it. I hadn’t thought it was possible at the time, to just let my body, my will be bent, but now, it just felt so easy to let it happen.

I blinked and let the power overcome me.

My vision blurred and my head burned. Soon the burning seemed like a paper cut; now my head felt like it was being melted and hammered. I kneeled on the ground, letting the tears seep from my eyes. When they touched the ground, a small plant started growing. Quickly, people came from inside the shed, but I didn’t look up.

They procured a bowl made of silver and inlaid with blood red rubies, bright diamonds, and dark obsidian. My vision blurred again and they placed it under my head, catching my tears.

The pressure in my head increased and a fresh wave of tears overcame me. This too was caught in the bowl.  Chanting began in the Ancient Language—Latin—and the pressure increase further until my head felt ready to explode. Still, only tears fell.

The chanting stopped and the pressure disappeared in my head, but now my hands throbbed. Smooth hands took my own and I looked at it, following its form until I saw a face, a hood covering its head, a cloth covering its mouth, their animalistic eyes staring back at my own.

The person had begun wrapping my hands together with a rough length of rope that chafed my skin. As they bound it up my arms, I could feel the skin breaking, blood dripping from the wounds. Now, I couldn’t cry. I had literally run out of tears. The same bowl caught my blood.

The dark rope, an almost black color, covered all of my skin, from my wrists to my elbows. My hands were facing upwards, tightly bound, side by side. A Knife was placed in them.

It was quite beautiful in a terrifying way; in total, 12 inches in length, the blade was dark as night and as cold as ice. It sent shivers up my back. The handle was made of bone; it was dry and slightly warm, contrasting with the metal part.

My vision wavered and out of nowhere a cup was thrust into my face. I hadn’t realized I was thirsty until now; when brought to my lips, I drank it hungrily, licked my lips afterwards.

When the potion began to take effect, the people surrounding me removed their hoods and lowering the face coverings.

I wasn’t startled by their appearances. Da had told me what to expect.

One had the head of an Elephant, another one of a Maggot. In total there were 19 people here, one for each of my years.

I saw a Fish, Zebra, Cuckoo, Hummingbird, Wolf, Honey Badger, Dolphin, Crab, Dragon, Mole, Toad, Narwhal, Sloth, and a couple other ones I couldn’t name. The person who bound me took of their hood last. It was a she, and she was a Tiger.

We stared at each other for a moment before she tilted her head. The Hummingbird and Wolf grabbed me under my arms gently and pulled me up to my feet, but they didn’t let me go. I still looked deep into her eyes. She started chanting again and my cuts seared with pain.

I don’t cry out; something else has caught my attention. The bowl, filled with my tears and blood, was being passed around. They each take a sip and pass it to the next person. It makes its way to the Tiger and she takes the final sip.

An Aura of sorts forms around them; each color is different. I realize I have one too, but I don’t panic. Da told me about this.

I focus on the Tiger. She places the bowl on the ground and grabs my bound hands. She raises them over my head and takes the Knife, turning my hands so that they’re palm to palm. Then she places the knife in between them, blade down.

“Stab.” She commands, her voice a silky growl.  This too, Da has told me about.

I kneel back down and sink the Knife into the soft dirt. It goes to the hilt. I remove it and stab. Again. Again. Again. Until I’ve stabbed it 19 times.

There’s a hole of sorts, and she pours the contents of the bowl into the hole. The bowl turns into smoke and disappears. Lines, like roots, grow from the hole, and fill with white light. The trees, which had been old and gnarly, came to life anew. Their old essences, like wisps of smoke, dispersed in the air, and when I breathed in, they entered my body.

It must have seemed strange to people watching the woods, to see the trees become young again. There’s a reason people say the Strano Woods are haunted.

I stand up, my muscles surging with strength. The Knife and bindings disappeared. A growl slipped through my teeth. The 19 formed a circle around me and I looked up. The shed was not a shed anymore. It was a door.

I smiled, my pupils dilating. This was going to be fun.