Excerpt: To Paint a Butterfly

Angel Song:

“Kryos, is that you? Kryos, please…” she sobbed, as her fingers fell upon her face, clamping around the black glass. “Please get it off!” She dug her long nails in around it and began to yank on it. Her screams shattered the silent air as her body thrashed madly. I tried to grab her hands as blood blossomed under her fingertips and spread across her milky cheeks. Finally her grip weakened as faintness took hold of her, and I managed to pull her shaking hands away.

Akavria:

A white stony face stared back at him for a moment, eyes devoid of pupils and completely free of any expression. Evan froze for a second, but snapped out of it when the attacker suddenly ducked out of the light, as though afraid of it.

Nine Lies:

The moon shone overhead, filtering in through the leaves of the trees and casting odd shadows onto the swirling mist, warped shapes reminiscent of the nightmares of mortals, easily brought to life by the overactive imagination. Pale light shivered through the fog, distilled to almost nothingness. All that grew in this dim, faraway place was moss, lichen, ivy, and a small cluster of toadstools nestled between the roots of a tree. The green and grey substances clung to almost anything, painting the bark of trees and the headstones alike. Such basic life forms did not discriminate, and even entwined the legs of the triad of stone angels that watched over the gravestones. It grew in particular thickness over the top of a fallen tree, which had died there some time ago. It looked as though this place hadn’t so much as felt a whisper of breath in quite some time.

The Red Raven:

For the first time in a century he breathed, finding with some surprise that the air didn't taste like blood and ashes. Things had changed.