The Girl From Above [Ground: Zero, Book 1]

Prologue

"Are you certain about this?"

His voice rang through the darkness of the library. He flinched, the silence filled every corner in the room, screaming and clawing at every inch of his skin down to his fingertips. He paused for a moment, stretching his hands in the dull ray of moonlight. He bounced on the balls of his feet and sniffed the air, dust tickled his nose and ears.

The journal weighed down in his arms. He picked at its leather edges, running his fingers along the faded letters on the front.

Where was he? Did he lie when he said he would be here?

"Honestly, it would've looked pretty silly if I hadn't been here. I almost considered leaving you alone just to see how you'd react."

The new voice greeted him from the shadows, it's high pitched shriek lathered in mirth.

"Alas, you haven't lost your mind yet, so you get me all to yourself, my little lovebug." He chuckled, rocking back and forth on his heels.

He brushed the butterfly aside, this was only their second meeting and he was already getting tired of his antics.

"Can we refrain from foolish nicknames? I'm here to confirm, I am not here to play around and get cocky." His words tasted bitter, every moment spent with this butterfly boy caused the hair on the back of his neck to stand up.

The butterfly stepped out into the light. His wings swirled, consuming any excess moonlight in their void. The butterfly scoffed in response to his comment, his white beady eyes swirling like milky galaxies.

"That'll change, trust me." He giggled, clicking his fingertips together.

The butterfly's confidence created a stir in his stomach, but he brushed it aside, flipping to the back of the journal. He hesitated, a question had tugged at the back of his mind since he had first talked with the butterfly.

"Why in the world would you want to bring a round-ear into our land, what purpose would one serve, a little girl, no less?" He blurted out.

The butterfly placed his finger over his mouth in a shushing motion.

"Hush and listen to me for a second. Personally, I didn't think blasphemy was your style, yet here we are."

He walked towards the window, caressing the glass with the back of his hand.

"It'll all come to pass, after all, certain sacrifices are necessary. Tell me you haven't forgotten who made that prophecy? I'd be happy to refresh your memory."

A surge of anger rose in his stomach at the butterfly's blasphemy comment. He snapped, shaking his claw at the butterfly.

"I don't have time for this. I don't answer to a simple messenger. I'll do my duty but I refuse to answer to you."

He scooped up the journal and started back towards the door.

His hands trembled around the journal, he tightened his grip on its binding. He knew he should be thankful for the opportunity, proud to be carrying such an honor to serve his superiors, yet...

His hands hovered above the doorknob. "If you won't tell me why we're using a round-ear, then tell me about the girl herself. What should I expect?" His words soft and breathless.

The butterfly looked over to him, his chin pointed towards the sky, his eyes dotted the night like extra moons.

"The answer to all of your problems. The one who will bring you salvation." He paused for a moment, as if to stir the words in his mouth. "Think of her as an omen of what's to come."

"An omen?" He repeated back to the butterfly.

He backed away from the door, his eyes still locked on the doorknob, focusing on the butterfly's distorted reflection. It was too easy, there wasn't a simple solution, there couldn't be, it was never this simple.

"Yes, my little lovebug."

The butterfly landed next to him, his breath cold and smokey against the cool air. He spoke as if he had just read his mind, his tone dry and snappy.

"The omen. It is that easy, all you have to do is shut up and stick to our plan." He hissed.

Our plan.

Deep down, he knew there was no our, he knew that this was a one-sided agreement, that he was a pawn, it was clear from the second the butterfly opened his mouth, but this might've been his only chance to finally get what he wanted.

He placed the journal in his bag, his eyes still focused on the door.

"So I simply watch the girl?" He asked, shuffling on his feet. His eyes watched the dust that kicked up from his ground.

The butterfly fluttered up happily, adjusting his bow tie.

"You're catching on now! You sound so glum, lovebug. C'mon have a little joy about the whole ordeal!"

The butterfly placed his hands on his hips.

"Think about it, all that research you've done, testing that out, you wouldn't get an opportunity like that anywhere else! You're important, lovebug, and your name will be screamed from rooftops."

A smile tugged at his face, his ears perking up. "You're certain about this?"

"Which one of us can see the future again?" The butterfly assured him, flying up to use his head as an armrest. "I can see it now, clear as day, people jumping off of rooftops just to catch up to you, screaming your name. Everything lies within the girl, lovebug. She is your key. She is the omen of great things to come, all you have to do is stick to what I told you."

He nodded happily, his eyes darting around. "And if anyone stands in the way?" He muttered, his mind off elsewhere, buzzing with possibilities.

The butterfly landed in front of him, folding his wings.

"Well, then they're just setting themselves up to be the very first subjects of your under appreciated skills." He grinned, opening up the door and gesturing for him to go ahead of him.

The butterfly held up three fingers as he walked out the door. "Remember, you have three weeks, I'll help you along the way, but I suggest you make it choppy."

"Three weeks." He repeated back.

The butterfly nodded in agreement, abruptly slamming the door in his face.

He smiled to himself, pulling his journal out and hurriedly flipping to the last page. A small giggle escaped his lips. He gripped at the page as hard as he could, feeling the old and tattered parchment beneath his claws. If the butterfly was telling the truth, there would be no repercussions, not this time.

Magics would be shouting his name on the rooftops, reaching out to get even a single look at him. For once he would be cherished for his talents, those worthless worms would be sorry to have even looked at him funny.

He skipped around the hall. Laughter erupted from his chest, he wheezed and grabbed his stomach. Salty tears stung his eyes and raced down his cheeks, it was almost to good to be true!

His laughter turned to a dry cackle, echoing throughout the hall. His ear twitched and he faced the window, a wide grin carved itself into his face. All of that knowledge, finally being put to good use, and to contribute to his wondrous spectacle, no less!

He watched the sky change from inky black to rose, bathing his face in the light of the dawn. He exhaled, wiping his tears. He struggled to keep his composure as he looked down at the journal, reading over the page he had slaved over for weeks.

"It is a new dawn, little omen." He whispered to the page. "I eagerly await your arrival."