A blank stare, a face frozen in time. It has been three days since they witnessed the cataclysmic event, the City of Light disappearing from the face of the earth.
Adam sat near the creature’s neck, his knees drawn to his chest. He hadn’t spoken a word.
The three of them were riding the moth, hovering about fifteen meters above the ground, moving at a remarkably high speed. Silence was the loudest passenger.
"Adam," Lian Mei’s voice cut through the wind, melodic yet piercing. She stood at the moth's head, her silk robes barely fluttering despite their velocity. She didn't turn her body to face him, "We need you healthy. Mother will not be pleased if I deliver a husk."
Adam didn’t respond.
They had been traveling for three days, making stops here and there, but the journey showed itself to be long.
"How long will it take until we arrive there?" Noah asked.
"Two months at least, three months at most," Lian Mei replied, her eyes fixed on the horizon.
"Then how did you arrive to our city so fast? If your response is that your own speed is able to perform such a feat, then how did this slow moth get there then? Should we assume it was in the city to begin with, somewhere?"
"A sharp mind indeed. Yes, the moth was in the City of Light."
Noah looked away as if he wasn’t satisfied with the answer, but he didn’t care enough to ask for more specifics. He just looked at Adam, waiting for a reaction. Adam had been frozen like this for three days without sleeping; he even refused to eat.
Noah wanted to try to talk him out of it. In fact, he had been looping many thoughts over in his head, thinking of what he could say, how he could say it, when, and where. But he couldn’t find any conceivable words that he imagined connecting to Adam in such a situation.
"Adam, if you keep it like this, I'm going to have to force you to eat, and force you to sleep. I can't afford to let you go further with this," Lian Mei said quietly.
Adam didn’t respond, again.
The moth slowed down. Below them lay the sprawling farmlands of the outer kingdom, territory far enough from the capital to have survived the blast, but close enough to feel the tremor.
"We need supplies," Lian Mei announced. "And the beast needs to rest."
"They will see us," Noah warned. "A moth the size of a carriage isn't exactly subtle."
They touched down in a field of wheat that rippled like a golden ocean. The moth’s legs settled into the earth with a heavy thump, kicking up dust.
"I believe the people in here should welcome us. The Kingdom of Light is known for having generous people. We actually need a stop before we continue."
Noah looked at her skeptically. "Is that what they say about us in the East? How much else do you know?"
"Not much really," Lian Mei said, "Your land is known for its queen mostly, her accomplishments exceed what anyone expected. She unified a broken kingdom and established many solid and healthy relations with the rest of the world in just her forty years of reign."
Noah looked down, he slid off the creature’s back, his legs wobbling. He reached up to help Adam, but Adam didn't move. Lian Mei sighed, then lifted Adam effortlessly, setting him on the ground like a doll.
The moth had landed next to a cabin in the middle of the vast farm. It was rustic, peaceful, a painful reminder of a familiar place. The door creaked open before they even knocked.
A little girl, no older than six, stepped out. She didn't look at the devastation in their eyes. She looked up, past them, at the iridescent monster resting in her father's wheat field, not scared, but amazed.
"Mom, Mom, look, a giant butterfly! I knew my wish was heard! I always wished for a butterfly that I could ride."
Adam flinched.
An older woman rushed out, grabbing the girl and pulling her back.
"Stay back," the woman whispered, trembling. "We... we have nothing."
Lian Mei stepped forward.
"Please," Lian Mei said, her voice lowering to a soothing hum. "We do not seek to take. We seek only rest. A few hours of shelter from the sun."
"We are normal people," the woman stammered, eyeing the moth. "We haven't hurt anyone..."
"And neither have we," Lian Mei said.
She reached up to her hair and took a golden hairpin tipped with jade held between her fingers. She walked slowly to the woman and took her hand.
Lian Mei opened the woman's hand, placed the hairpin in it, and closed her fingers over it.
"Pure jade from the Sutra mines. It will buy this farm ten times over. We just need water, and perhaps... some soup for the boys."
The woman looked at the jade, then at Adam, who was staring at a patch of dirt. The mother's instinct overrode her fear.
"He looks..." the woman started.
"He looks tired, Mama," the little girl interrupted. "I think if he plays with my little game Uncle brought us last summer, he will be all happy again. It has lots of wooden pieces you have to fit together. I also was tirrredd last time but playing it made me happy again, right Mommyyy?"
"My name is Lian Mei, this is Adam, and this is Noah. May I ask your names?"
"I am Karla," the woman said, softening. "And this little noisy kitten here is my beloved Evelynn. Welcome to our home, we shall do our best to give you a warm stay in our modest place."
A heavy silence followed as the name hung in the air.
Evelynn.
"Can I touch the magic butterfly before, Mama? I wanna pet it," Evelynn asked, motioning with her hands.
Karla looked at Lian Mei. Lian Mei did not blink, but she dipped her chin in a stiff, singular nod.
"YAAAY!"
Evelynn ran at the moth and started playing with it. Surprisingly, the moth played back. It lowered its massive head, allowing her to scratch behind its antennae. She squealed in delight and tried to climb its leg. The moth gently nudged her up, letting her sit on its back for a moment before she slid down into the soft wheat, laughing as she landed.
They all waited for her to finish, watching the wholesome scene. Even Adam was looking.
Lian Mei walked inside first, followed by Noah. Adam didn’t move. He stopped right at the door entry, unable to take another step.
Noah looked back. Again, he couldn’t find the words.
"Come on in," Evelynn said, beaming at him. "Believe me, once you play my little games you won't be sad anymore. It always works with me."
"I... I... c... c... can’t."
And a river of tears started coming down Adam's face.
"I... I can’t."
The words tore out of his throat, jagged and wet.
"If I go inside... if I look at her... I can't have them die too. Not because of me. It’s enough. Please, it’s enough."
Adam’s legs gave out. He didn’t fall so much as crumble, the strings holding him upright finally severed by the weight of a name.
He hit the dirt hard. His hands, shaking violently, clawed at the dry earth. He dug his fingers in, scratching until the soil turned dark with fresh blood, until his fingernails cracked against buried stones. He slammed his forehead against the ground, once, twice, as if trying to physically knock the memories out of his skull.
"Aaaaaahghhhh!"
It wasn't a scream of pain; it was the sound of a soul rupturing.
"If only I hadn’t... if only I hadn’t bitten it! If only I wasn't so stupid!"
The silence that followed was deafening. The wind died down. The wheat stopped rustling. The only sound in the world was Adam’s ragged, heaving breath.
Noah looked away. He stared at the horizon, his jaw locked tight, his mouth twitching.
Karla took a step back, pulling little Evelynn against her apron. The woman looked terrified, her eyes darting between the weeping boy and the shimmering moth. Little Evelynn just stared, her mouth forming a small 'o' of surprise, unable to comprehend why the game she suggested had broken the boy.
"Adam."
Lian Mei’s voice was low.
She reached out. Her pale hands, settled on his trembling head. She began to stroke his hair, a rhythmic, repetitive motion. Stroke. Pause. Stroke. Pause.
Then, she leaned forward and lifted him. Despite his thrashing, despite his dead weight, she pulled him up effortlessly and pressed his face into her shoulder.
She held him there, one arm over his head, the other over his upper back, moving in a comforting motion, mimicking the embrace of a mother comforting a child. She said nothing. She simply held him, her lilac eyes wide and unblinking.
Adam wept into her robes, his tears soaking the fabric.
Karla’s grip on the little girl loosened. She looked at the knife in her hand, then at the boy sobbing in the strange woman’s arms. She seemed to realize she was holding a weapon against a crying child and quickly set it down on the porch railing, her face softening into genuine concern.
"Oh, the poor dear," Karla whispered. "The couch. Bring him to the couch inside, it's warm."
They moved inside.
The cabin smelled of dried herbs, woodsmoke, and baking bread. It was small, cluttered, and undeniably warm. A fire crackled softly in the stone hearth, casting long, dancing shadows against the log walls.
Lian Mei placed Adam on a worn beige sofa. His cries had reduced to shallow, hitching breaths. His eyes were squeezed shut, his face buried in the cushions. Within moments, the rhythm of his breathing changed. The exhaustion had finally claimed him.
Lian Mei straightened her back. Her hand, which had been stroking his head, stopped instantly. She didn't withdraw it slowly; she just ceased the motion.
Noah followed them in, stopping at the threshold. He felt the heat of the room hit his cold skin.
On a low table near the hearth, a wooden box sat open. Small, intricate geometric shapes were scattered across the surface.
A puzzle.
"I'll get some water," Karla said, moving to the kitchen pump. "And maybe some warm milk."
Little Evelynn stood by the table, fingering one of the wooden blocks. She looked at Noah, then at Adam’s sleeping form.
"He didn't want to play?" she whispered.
"No," Noah said, his voice rough. "He’s just played that game before."
Karla returned with a tray of water and fresh bread. She placed it on the table, her movements bustling and motherly.
"I apologize for my husband not being here to welcome you properly, he took the cart to Riverton this morning to sell our grain and buy supplies for the winter. He won't be back until tomorrow evening."
"It is no trouble," Lian Mei said.
"You must be hungry," Karla said, looking at Noah's travel-worn clothes. "I have stew on the fire."
"We can't stay long," Noah said, his voice quiet. "Just the night."
"Nonsense," Karla waved a hand. "Stay as long as you need. The house is small, as you can see, but we have a loft in the barn. It’s dry, clean, and full of fresh hay. My husband sleeps there sometimes when the summer nights get too hot. It’s quite comfortable."
"That would be perfect," Lian Mei responded.
Noah walked over to the couch. He looked down at Adam. The tears had dried on his cheeks, leaving salty tracks through the grime. Adam mumbled something in his sleep, his brow furrowing.
Noah reached out and touched Adam’s shoulder. It was cold.
"Just sleep, you need rest."
Outside, the sun began to set. The light in the room turned from orange to grey.
Evelynn tugged on her mother’s apron. "Mama, the butterfly is sleeping too."
Noah looked out the window. The giant moth had folded its wings, blending perfectly into the wheat.
"It's not a butterfly, Evie, it's a moth."
Darkness.