In the beginning, the World was but a formless void. The Great Weaver, an ancient being of unimaginable power, spun the threads of reality. From the abyss, insects emerged, each carrying a spark of the divine.
Among them stood the Black Butterfly, whose wings bore the stain of sin. His eyes glimmered with a secret knowledge, and he walked a solitary path, untouched by the innocence of the others. The Great Weaver marked him, a symbol of defiance and exile.
Beside him fluttered a White Moth, an enigma of purity and fate, always appearing where destiny wavered. She was neither friend nor foe, merely an observer, bound by duty yet touched by curiosity.
Both stood as a great figure in the world of divinity.
The black butterfly and the white moth were siblings under the shade of the great weaver.
Things took place that day, when the black butterfly in the course of time brought some fruits to the great weaver as an offering. At the same time, the white moth brought delighted flowers to the great weaver. The great weaver looked with favour on the white moth and her offering but on the black butterfly and his offering it did not look with favour. So the black butterfly was downcast with anger.
The great weaver noticed the change, and warned the black butterfly that he isn't far away from falling into the depths of sins.
The black butterfly invited his sister the white moth into the garden of divinity where all insects gathered for seeking peace. On precise timing, the black butterfly brutally killed his sibling the white moth with absolute vengeance. The garden turned into a tragedy.
All insects escape the garden with terror and reported the issue to the great weaver.
The great weaver approached the black butterfly and interrogated the matter on his action despite the warning he gave him?
The black butterfly closed the matter with vague reasons.
The great weaver this time however didn't took actions with blood and vengeance but with a slow burn lesson.
The weaver told the black butterfly " My First child, your actions may seem justified to you but you seem to be mistaken about the outcome you are trying to achieve. Your actions on your sister only broke the soul connection between me and her. She is still wondering alone in this lone realm, finding a perfect vessel somewhere so she can be revive again someday. While your inner desire have drive you to commit the first ever sin in this world. I shall not take the responsibility of your actions by committing the same mistake of punishing wrath with wrath.
Rather, i shall cursed you with an eternal torment. You will be a restless soul on this very world, unable to cultivate and build anything. Unable to achieve true peace and happiness. You shall passed through this by carrying the sins of the world on your back. "
The black butterfly then said to the great weaver " My punishment is more than I can bear. Today you are driving me from the land and I will be hidden from your presence; I will be a restless wanderer on this world and whoever finds me will kill me. "
But the great weaver said to him " Not so; if anyone kills you, he/she will suffer vengeance seven times over. And in the end, you will be unable to kill yourself. I will put a mark on you so that no one who found you will kill you. "
With this last conversation, the black butterfly starts wandering to the end of the world.
Days, weeks, months, years, decades and soon a century. By this time the black butterfly has lost counts. The world created by the weaver; a world once surrounded by flowers and variant creations ; a world where all acknowledge and worship the great weaver was falling into doom.
Sin soon took over the world, everyone forgot the great weaver. They only saw profit for oneself.
The weight on the black butterfly was immensely increasing over time. The fellow insects hurt, kill and ate each other. It wasn't a world they could called home. The black butterfly saw all of it. He walk passed every corner, every side that is hidden in the eyes of the weaver. The world of colour was slowly turning into a monochrome.
But the black butterfly simply didn't care. He knew he would live to see this day. He wanted the insects to devour him. But his presence was almost an absence.
He keeps wandering...wandering..... Wandering.
Soon the world turns black. The black clouds engulfed the world. Thunders roar in the sky hinting the despair of the great weaver.
Rivers cried with unnatural fervor, devouring the hills, mountains, forest and fields, leaving an endless expanse of water where life once thrived.
The restless wanderer was nowhere to be seen.