"Why is there a butterfly here?"
Azriel frowned, caught somewhere between mystification and vigilance, and did not dare move any closer.
As though the butterfly had sensed Azriel noticing it at last, it flapped its wings and began drifting slowly toward him, leaving behind a soft, glowing trail of azure with every beat, one that faded into nothing almost as quickly as it appeared, like a small dancing orb of light suspended in a room lit by nothing but flickering torchlight.
Gradually, Azriel lifted his hand and held his fingers still and steady as the butterfly beat its wings toward him with something that looked almost like desperation.
Complying, perhaps, it landed gently on his index finger, wings still fluttering.
"...You are quite pretty."
Looking at the creature, Azriel found it alien, yet beautiful; dangerous, yet pulchritudinous.
He kept studying it closely.
"A soul echo... huh."
'Then where is its owner?'
