Eternal Malediction (RE)

Roy looked around, taking everything in: the laughter, the chaos, and the warmth. Capturing it, holding it. It felt nice.

But... why did it still feel so...

Bland.

Like something inside him was still untouched as if the noise around him couldn’t quite reach the quiet part of his chest.

He exhaled slowly. That feeling just won’t go, will it? The feeling you’re behind glass.

Just never goes...

And then— ”Psst.”

Roy turned.

Maddy stood near the door, leaning against the frame, arms crossed, cigarette tucked behind her ear. Her expression was the same as always: unimpressed, bored and vaguely irritated, but her eyes were softer than usual.

She waved her hand towards him. ”Come here.”

Roy walked over, weaving through the crowd. ”What?”

”I’m leaving,” she said quietly. ”Just wanted to say... I’m glad they invited me.”

Roy blinked. ”Really?”

She shrugged. ”Don’t make it weird.”

Roy smirked. ”Alright then.”

He paused.

Then, mockingly but with a hint of genuine curiosity, he asked, ”So... what’s my gift from you?”

Maddy froze.

Her eyes widened just slightly, the tiniest crack in her usual composure which she held fractured.

She had forgotten.

Roy saw it immediately.

Her jaw tightened. ”You’re annoying.”

Roy grinned. ”So, you didn’t get me anything.”

She stared at him. Then, slowly, her expression shifted, not of anger, not of embarrassment but... of something thoughtful.

She looked at him deeply, her eyes scanning his face like she was searching for something. Then she said, ”Alright.”

Before Roy could ask what she meant, she grabbed his wrist.

”Come on.”

”What—?”

She didn’t let him finish.

She pulled him through the door, past the noise, past the laughter, past the warmth of the cabin. She ran fast, dragging Roy behind her as she sprinted toward the road leading away from London.

Roy stumbled once, then caught up, matching her pace.

”Maddy— where are we—?”

”Your gift,” she said simply.

They ran, and somewhere between the first step and the tenth, her hand slid from his wrist into his palm.

They held hands.

Roy felt something warm spark in his chest, something that wasn’t bland at all.

Then it happened.

Roy’s fingers began to dissolve.

Not painfully. Not violently... but softly.

His skin shimmered, breaking apart into tiny fragments of colour of blues, purples, golds and greens drifting upward like dust caught in sunlight.

Butterflies.

It started with his hand. Then his arm. Then his face.

His entire body slowly turned into butterflies, hundreds, then thousands swirling around Maddy in a gentle storm of colour.

Roy didn’t panic; he didn’t hold back.

He accepted it. He let it happen.

Maddy watched him with wide eyes, not scared, not confused, but mesmerised. Then she exhaled once, softly.

And she changed too.

Her body dissolved into butterflies of dark reds, deep violets and silver‑white wings that shimmered like moonlight.

Two storms of colour all intertwining, dancing and rising with each other becoming one. They drifted upward together, carried by prana, carried by intention, carried by something Roy didn’t know.

They flew.

Across fields, across cliffs and finally towards the coastline. Until the world below shifted into jagged stone and roaring waves.

Land’s End.

The edge of the UK.

A rocky plane where the moon looked impossibly large, swollen by prana refraction, its reflected light magnified until it hung in the sky like a glowing giant.

Magnolia trees clung to the uneven stone. Cherry blossoms swayed in the wind. Crab-apple trees glittered the ground with pink petals. The petals scattered across the rocks like soft snow, uneven, shimmering and glowing faintly under the moon’s amplified light.

The butterflies descended.

Slowly.

Softly.

Landing on the petals, the rocks, the branches.

And then, Roy reformed.

Piece by piece. Colour by colour. Until he stood on the rocky plane, breathing softly, staring at the moonlit horizon.

Maddy reformed beside him, brushing a stray petal from her hair.

Roy stared at her. ”What... was that?”

Maddy shrugged. ”Your gift.”

Roy blinked. ”Turning into butterflies?”

”No.” She looked at the moon. ”The place.”

Roy followed her gaze.

Land’s End glowed under the massive moon, pink petals drifting across the stone, the ocean roaring below and the air shimmering with prana.

It was beautiful.

Roy exhaled slowly. ”Maddy...”

She didn’t look at him.

But she said, quietly, ”Happy birthday.”

Roy felt something warm settle in his chest; something that wasn’t bland at all.

Something real. Something alive.

Something he didn’t know how to name.

Something he wanted to feel in a long time.

Roy let the warmth of the moment settle in his chest, but the feeling still carried that strange hollowness... that quiet, lingering blandness he couldn’t quite name.

He exhaled softly.

Then he heard her laugh.

Light. Unrestrained. Real.

He looked over his shoulder.

Maddy had already wandered off running down the slope of the rocky plane, straight into the valley where the petals gathered in thick, shimmering pools. The ground was uneven, drenched with water from the sea mist, puddles forming between jagged stones. Magnolia petals floated on the surface like tiny boats.

She didn’t care.

She splashed through them, boots kicking up water, petals scattering around her ankles. Her butterflies, the ones she conjured with her prana, swarmed around her in a soft storm of colour. Reds, violets and silver‑white wings that shimmered under the moon’s magnified glow.

She spun once, letting the butterflies circle her. She reached out, letting them land on her palms. She laughed again; a sound Roy had never heard from her.

He watched her.

Just watched.

There was a wooden bench behind him old, worn, carved into the stone as if someone had placed it there decades ago for moments exactly like this. Roy sat down slowly, elbows resting on his knees, eyes fixed on her.

She pranced through the valley, splashing through puddles, petals clinging to her boots, butterflies swirling around her like she was the centre of their universe.

And Roy felt something he couldn’t shake off.

It’s strange, really.

To find someone so beautiful that they stop being an object of desire and become something untouchable, like a distant star.

You don’t want them, not in the way you’d want anyone else.

You just... admire. Their existence alone feels complete, and anything more would only taint it.

It’s not lust. It’s reverence.

He didn’t know when the thought formed. He didn’t know why it felt so heavy. He didn’t know why it felt so true. He just sat there, watching her move through the valley like she belonged to it, like she was part of the moonlight, part of the petals, part of the butterflies.

Then she stopped.

She turned.

She had forgotten about him while she was lost in her own world, in her own moment, but when she looked back toward Roy, she froze.

Because Roy wasn’t just sitting.

He was sitting with a butterfly perched on the tip of his fingers.

Golden brown and black wings. Soft, delicate, shimmering under the moon’s refracted glow.

It rested right in front of his face, its wings opening and closing slowly, like it was breathing with him.

Roy didn’t move.

He just watched it.

And Maddy... Maddy stared at him like she was seeing something she would never forget.

The moon behind him. The petals around him. The butterfly on his fingertips. His expression was soft, quiet and almost serene.

It was an image she knew would stay with her forever.

Something beautiful. Something gentle. Something she didn’t expect from him.

Something she didn’t expect from herself.

She took a slow step toward him.

Then another.

The butterflies around her followed.

And the valley of petals shimmered under the moon as the two of them stood there, one sitting and one approaching, both caught in a moment neither of them could explain.