The moon bathed the meadow in soft silver light, spilling across the small trees.
Long shadows stretched over the grass and flowers, while the cool night air carried the scent of earth and blooming petals.
The steady hum of flight drifted through the darkness as butterflies patrolled overhead.
Thorny whips rested sheathed at their legs, lightly tapping against their exoskeletons with each graceful pass between the branches.
Their antennae twitched at the slightest disturbance.
A male butterfly glided silently above the meadow.
The silver glow traced along the edges of his black wings as he descended toward a hollowed out tree.
His dark hair stirred gently when his feet touched the bark.
Without hesitation, he stepped forward and lowered himself into a respectful bow.
"Your report, Nytheris," a voice called.
"Very well, Monarch Ignatia," he replied. "The patrol is proceeding without incident. So far, there have been no sightings of moth activity."
Ignatia turned toward him.
Her purple hair shifted softly against her shoulders as a breeze drifted through the hollow.
"Their activity has increased over the past few days," Ignatia said.
Her gaze moved toward the dark meadow beyond the entrance.
"We can't afford to let our guard down."
Nytheris remained silent.
"If they strike while we're vulnerable," she continued, "they could make off with the nectar we've gathered for winter."
She folded her arms, a vein pulsing at her temple.
"I wouldn't hear the end of it from my annoying sisters."
Her piercing red eyes narrowed slightly.
"Your report was very lacking."
Ignatia waved a hand dismissively.
"Now shoo. Go on and continue your patrol."
"How cold, Your Highness," Nytheris said.
His expression remained blank.
With a smooth thrust of his wings, he rose into the night sky.
The air stirred around him as he climbed above the treetops.
Ignatia watched him disappear into the darkness.
As the distance between them grew, a subtle glint flickered in Nytheris's eyes.
Ignatia turned and paced a few steps away.
Forgive me, Nytheris.
You are my most loyal guardian. If there were anyone I could trust with this, it would be you.
She lowered her gaze.
But I cannot tell you. Not yet.
Those fiends are not after our nectar supplies.
The Moonveil Blossom is their true objective.
It blooms only once every hundred years. Its nectar can heal any injury, cure illness, and grant strength beyond what nature intended.
Her expression hardened.
I cannot allow it to fall into their hands.
And I cannot afford to wait another hundred years.
Don't worry, Luminara. I will not fail. I will return with that flower at all cost.
Four butterflies soared in quiet formation above the meadow, their wings beating in slow, steady rhythms.
One let out a long, stifled yawn mid flight.
Another chuckled.
"You've been yawning every night this week. What is it? Finally found yourself a betrothed keeping you busy?"
The tired butterfly laughed under his breath.
"I wish. These endless patrols are taking their toll. We could really use a break. It's not like the moths are actually going to attack..."
The others laughed.
Typical Garren...
"You say that now, Garren," a female butterfly said with a grin, "but if Ignatia heard you talking like that, she'd have your thorax on the ground doing drills until sunrise."
"Please," Garren muttered, his antennae drooping. "I'd rather fight ten moths than deal with her temper."
A ripple of chuckles passed through the group.
High among the branches, Nytheris watched them from a shadowed perch.
His dark eyes followed the patrol as it drifted across the night sky.
"So it begins..." he whispered.
Beyond the meadow's edge, shapes began to emerge.
Black wings.
Black exoskeletons.
Silent figures slipping between the darkness and the trees.
The distant stars seemed dimmer as one by one, the figures vanished from sight, blending seamlessly into the night.
One of the butterflies glanced sideways at Garren.
"So, have you finally finished that carving you've been working on?"
"No."
"You've been working on it for two months."
"Listen Lior things like that takes time."
"It's a butterfly carved from wood."
Lior shook his head.
"At this rate, we'll probably die before you finish it."
Aris sighed.
"Can both of you keep your eyes on the patrol route?"
"We are."
Lior pointed at Garren.
"He's looking at me."
"And you're looking at him," Garren said.
Aris closed her eyes for a moment.
"I don't know why I bother. Why can't you all be like Grey..."
As the others continued talking, Grey's attention drifted.
His expression grew still.
He slowly tilted his head.
"...Did I just imagine that?" he muttered.
After a moment, he beat his wings and caught up with the others.
Suddenly, the world changed.
The moonlight vanished.
The stars blinked out.
Darkness swallowed the meadow whole.
Black mist rolled across the field in thick waves, weaving between the trees and curling around the butterflies mid flight.
"What...what's happening?!" Lior shouted.
Panic cracked his voice.
"Stay close!" Grey shouted.
His thorny whip snapped through the darkness in a defensive arc.
"The moths...this is their doing!" he shouted. "Don't let your guard down!"
The mist continued to spread.
"Garren!" Aris shouted.
Then came the first scream.
It tore through the darkness.
A sharp cry echoed across the meadow, followed by a wet crunch.
The sound cut off abruptly.
Another scream answered it.
Then another.
One of them broke into a choking gurgle before falling silent.
"Grey! Aris! Lior!"
Garren's voice rang through the mist.
Nothing.
A bead of sweat rolled down his temple.
His breathing quickened.
The mist brushed against his wings as he spun in another direction, searching for even a glimpse of movement.
"No... no..."
Garren's hands shook.
He tore his thorny whip free and lashed it through the darkness.
"I'll kill you fiends!"
Sharp cracks split the air.
The whip struck nothing.
Something whistled.
Out of nowhere jagged spike slammed into his shoulder.
Crunch.
The force spun him sideways.
"AAAHH!"
Pain shot through his arm.
Blood ran down the edge of his exoskeleton and dripped into the mist below.
Gritting his teeth, Garren seized the spike and yanked it free.
Fresh blood followed.
His eyes widened.
The object was thick and dark, shaped almost like a giant quill.
Its surface glistened faintly in the darkness, its edges curved into barbs.
"...What is this?"
A hiss cut through the air.
Instinct took over.
Garren jerked his head aside.
Something streaked past his antennae.
His breath caught.
He kicked off the air and darted sideways.
Too late.
Three more projectiles burst from the darkness.
One drove into his thigh.
Another punched through his forearm.
His grip loosened.
The thorny whip nearly slipped from his hand.
A third shot toward his chest.
Garren twisted.
The spike missed.
A fourth tore across his wing.
His body lurched.
One wing beat.
The other faltered.
The night sky tilted.
His vision swam.
"Looks like..."
His fingers tightened weakly around the whip.
"...this is the end."
Shapes moved within the mist.
One.
Then another.
Then more.
Slowly closing in.
Suddenly, a sharp whistle cut through the chaos.
A gust of wind swept across the meadow, forcing Garren to take a half step back.
Then came a metallic slicing sound.
Again and again.
Screams followed.
Garren's eyes snapped open.
The black mist was beginning to thin, drifting apart in ragged patches.
As his vision cleared, he saw the remains of the moths that had attacked them.
Bodies and torn wings tumbled from the air.
They struck the meadow floor with heavy, sickening thuds.
A voice broke through the chaos.
"Stand firm. You did well holding out."
Garren turned looked up toward the sound.
"I'll take it from here."
His eyes widened.
"High Monarch Ignatia..."
The words slipped from his mouth.
Ignatia hovered above him her wings deep indigo veined with streaks of red.
Blood streaked along the barbs of her thorny whip.
"That black mist you saw..." Ignatia said. "It wasn't real. It was an illusion."
She glanced toward the drifting particles still hanging in the air.
"Their forewings release a fine dust. Once you breathe it in, it starts affecting what you see."
"So... that's how they did it..."
Garren's voice cracked.
His gaze drifted downward.
Then his eyes widened.
"No...!"
Aris lay motionless on the ground.
Tears clung to her vacant eyes.
Blood trickled from the corner of her mouth.
Jagged quills pierced her body in multiple places.
Nearby, Lior lay sprawled in the grass.
A single quill protruded from his head.
Grey was worse.
His body was twisted and mangled beyond recognition.
"How..."
His fingers curled against his exoskeleton.
"How could this happen...?"
Ignatia hovered a short distance ahead of him.
Her crimson eyes narrowed.
A faint twitch ran through her jaw.
Suddenly, sharp whistles cut through the air.
More projectiles shot from the shadows above.
Ignatia reacted instantly.
Her thorny whip cracked through the air with explosive force.
Clang!
Crack!
Snap!
The weapon became a blur.
One jagged spine after another shattered apart or ricocheted away, fragments scattering across the meadow below.
Garren blinked.
His eyes struggled to follow the movement.
Slowly, he lifted his gaze.
More than ten moths hovered overhead.
Jagged quills protruded from their hind wings, glinting beneath the moonlight.
Ignatia's expression hardened.
She stared at them.
"So you had the nerve to attack my Kaleidoscope?"
Her voice was calm.
The moths remained silent.
Ignatia's eyes gleamed.
"Then you'll suffer for what you've done."
Her grip tightened around the handle of her whip.
"Tenfold."
Her wings snapped once.
The air burst outward.
She shot forward.
The moths immediately scattered.
Their hind wings flexed.
A storm of quills erupted from every direction.
Ignatia twisted through the barrage.
She dipped beneath one volley.
Rolled past another.
Then surged upward through a wall of incoming projectiles.
Quills rushed past her.
Not one connected.
Each shot missed by the narrowest margin.
Empty patches of sky exploded behind her as the projectiles tore through the space she had occupied a fraction of a second earlier.
Garren clutched his injured arm.
His breathing slowed.
His eyes remained fixed on the battle overhead.
"Impossible..."
The words escaped him.
"How is she...?"
Ignatia suddenly came to a stop.
She hovered motionless in the night sky.
For a brief moment, everything seemed to still.
She drew in a deep breath.
Her crimson eyes brightened.
"Velvet Rush."
Crimson light erupted across her purple exoskeleton.
The glow intensified.
Then...
She vanished.
One moment Ignatia was hovering in place.
The next, she was standing among them.
The moths froze.
Their eyes widened.
"What?!" one of them blurted.
Ignatia moved before the shock could leave his mouth.
Her thorny whip lashed out.
A sharp crack echoed.
In that same instance, flesh tore.
Wings split apart.
The first moth was cut down instantly.
Then the second.
Then the third.
Panic spread through the formation.
But it was already too late.
Ignatia surged through them in a blur.
Her whip snapped again and again.
Broken limbs and shattered fragments of exoskeleton rained toward the meadow below.
Within moments, the sky fell silent.
Ignatia hovered above the carnage.
Her breathing was heavy.
The crimson glow surrounding her exoskeleton faded little by little until it disappeared completely.
Suddenly, a sharp whistle cut through the air.
A stray projectile shot out cloaked in mist.
Before Ignatia could fully react, it slammed into her arm.
Her body jolted.
Ignatia's eyes flashed, and her jaw tightened.
Without hesitation, she grabbed the shaft and tore it free.
A thin trail of crimson followed as she flung the projectile aside.
Ignatia remained hovering in place.
Her gaze swept across the canopy.
Leaves rustled softly below.
For a moment, nothing moved.
Her eyes narrowed.
"Show yourself, coward," she called.
Suddenly, a black armored hand pushed through the darkness.
The shadows parted.
Wings unfolded.
Barbed quills along their edges caught the moonlight.
He has Black chitin.
Spikes rose from his shoulders and forearms.
Dark hair hung across his face.
Golden eyes settled on Ignatia.
Click.
The sheath at his hip shifted as he took a step forward walking on darkness itself.
"So, you were able to sense me," he said, his voice low.
A faint golden light shone from his eyes as he looked down at them.
"I expected no less from the War Monarch. One of the three High Monarchs of this Kaleidoscope."
Ignatia tightened her grip on the whip.
The handle pressed against her palm as she steadied herself in the air.
This moth...
The air felt heavier around him.
Darkness lingered at the edge of her vision, spreading outward from his body.
His presence is overwhelming...
"Forgive me. I didn't introduce myself."
His gaze remained fixed on her.
"I'm known as Magnus, the Eclipse."
For a brief moment, neither side moved.
"Now then..." Magnus continued.
"I came to retrieve what rightfully belongs to me. The Moonveil Blossom."
He extended one hand toward her.
"Hand it over, and I'll spare your lives."
Ignatia's expression didn't change.
"You think I would falter because of a few words?" she asked.
Magnus slowly lowered his hand.
"Too bad."
A sharp metallic sound cut through the air.
Darkness gathered along the edges of the twin mandibles as he unsheathed them.
"Then you've left me no choice."
He angled the blades toward her.
"I'll take it by force."
"High Monarch Ignatia!" Nytheris called.
He surged forward through the air.
More than twenty butterfly guards followed close behind him.
Wings beat rapidly as they advanced, weapons raised and ready.
Magnus glanced toward them.
"Your struggles will be in vain."
The darkness around him expanded.
"In the end, I will receive that flower."
More moths emerged from the shadows behind him.
Their figures slowly became visible as they stepped into the dim light.
"You will be swallowed by the void..."
"...and you will die."
Ignatia lifted her whip.
"You're welcome to try," she said.
The air suddenly grew colder.
Shadows spread outward from Magnus, racing across the ground and through the sky.
Within seconds, darkness covered the entire area.