Luminous

108 - Fireflies

It was decided Persephia Graye would be spared and handed to the watch of Gillian and his dragons. After tomorrow's cremation ceremony, they would all set sail along the Celestel River into the capital, Aynor. 

Like most from the countryside, Meya had long dreamed of touching her bare foot on the stone of Aynor for once in her fleeting life. Jason often told tales of narrow streets with houses crammed on both sides like rows of crooked teeth, upper floors tottering over the thoroughfare, drying laundry slung across windows. Celebrations came one after another, neverending—tournaments, festivals, markets. People, food and crafts from every corner of Latakia and beyond, collected in one square.

The prosperity of Aynor even spilled onto the surrounding roads and rivers, such that they could shed most supplies, travel light, and live off the land. There wasn't much left to pack, seeing as Meya was already prepared to set off for Jaise. She wasn't allowed to help with the heavy-lifting, either. So, on Ozid's advice, Meya stole away to the botanical gardens. 

True to Hyacinth pride, the gardens' design took inspiration from a spiderweb. Sandstone walkways radiated from the centerpiece fountain, flanked by layers of violet flowerbeds and emerald hedgerows alternating with crystal-clear canals. A colonnade of date palms sealed the enclosure against the desert heat.

Meya sat on the sandstone seat surrounding the fountain pool, feeding leaves to a voracious green caterpillar lounging on a bare branch dripping with milky sap. Footsteps approached. She looked up to find a familiar gaunt, pale face, lit orange by the setting sun.

"It's getting dark. You should head back," said Coris. His features sharpened as he drew near. He spotted the pile of leaves beside her. "What have you there?"

Meya said nothing. Carefully, she scooped up the little fellow along with his branch and the leaf he was munching on, as Coris bent down to see. 

The caterpillar was apple green, plump and soft and large as her finger. A line of white and blue freckles scored his sides down to his pointy yellow tail. Two pairs of elaborate, spiky green antlers crowned his head, and on his back were two luminous, blue-green false eyes.

"Aw, look at his wee horns. And his eyes. He's just like you." Coris cooed. He shot her a toothy grin, then gave the caterpillar a gentle poke. The wee thing jolted just as he recoiled. A glistening drop of half-clear, half cloudy-green liquid clung to his fingertip.

"That's his blood," said Meya darkly as she rested the branch back upon the leaf pile. Their eyes met, and she tossed her chin towards a squatty potted plant with garish pink flowers, some way away in the gathering darkness,

"Gardener plucked him from one of them shrubs there. Tossed him on the gravel. Prolly would've stamped his guts out if I hadn't stepped in."

Coris peered at the shrub for a moment, then lifted himself to the seat with a sigh.

"Desert Roses." He muttered. "The sap's poisonous. Be careful."

Meya felt his eyes upon her middle. She bit her lips at the pang of guilt in her heart. The caterpillar munched on, unknowing, slicing away the leaf in neat, curved lines.

"Ain't no fair. Look how starving he is. He's just trying to survive." She grumbled. 

"I know," Coris accepted softly. The caterpillar waved his head, searching. Coris nudged a new leaf towards him, "But imagine you find him in your cabbage patch back home. You can't let him ruin your family's food, can you?"

Meya wasn't talking about just the caterpillar, of course. And Coris wasn't, either. As if he sensed her pain, he added more kindly,

"We'll bring him along. With time, love and care, he'll turn into a majestic moth."