Killing Butterflies ( Inspired by Lewis Blisset)

Legend of the Butterfly, A King, and A Box of Malice

The Legend of a Butterfly, a King, and a Box of Malice

Far beyond the borders of Lunaris, in a distant and forgotten land called Elysoria, a box was created in the shadows of the world. Elysoria was once a paradise—a peaceful country nestled among golden sands, filled with shimmering oasis . Its people lived in the mountainous outskirts and its deserts , isolated from the rest of the world, untouched by war, famine, plague, or drought. The kingdom thrived in its seclusion, a place so serene that it felt timeless, invincible.

But in the quiet corners of Elysoria, something terrible was born. A box—though calling it merely a "box" would be a grave understatement—came into existence, cradled in the malice of a forgotten realm. On the surface, it appeared simple, unadorned, but the moment one laid eyes upon it, they would know it was not of this world. It was a vessel of all the hatred and anger festering in the shadows of reality. This was no ordinary object—it was a promise. A promise of sweet vengeance, of merciless destruction, a manifestation of nightmares bound in a beautiful disguise.

The box pulsed with a faint, glowing purple energy, its surface crisscrossed by black veins that lazily throbbed like a predator biding its time. There was no lid, no signs of weakness, nothing that betrayed its true nature. Smooth and impenetrable, it radiated an aura of mystery and danger. Some whispered it was made from the remnants of foreign travelers who, lost in the mountains, had perished in the dark, their blood mingling with their hatred to birth this malevolent thing. Others spoke of a girl among the travelers, but her body was never found, only the crumbling skeletons of the rest. All knew that this Box was an alien thing , not meant to be unleashed upon this world . They say that the unfortunate travelers, too , were not of this world , that they had slipped through from small cracks, that they came from a world of chaos and evil . Their deaths tore open the fabric of reality , just a small tear , and formed this Box . 

None of this mattered at first. Elysoria, oblivious to the evil growing within, carried on as usual. But slowly, the kingdom began to change. Greed crept into the hearts of its people. Friends turned against each other for wealth and power. Soon, there were crimes, then violence, and finally, murder. It was as though a rot had set in, an invisible poison infecting the land. The air itself grew thick with a sense of decay, the smiles of the locals becoming sharper, crueler, void of any true joy. These were the signs, subtle and sinister, that warned of the darkness to come.

It was King Iota who, during an expedition, discovered the box. The box does not reveal itself to just anyone—it chooses its victims, and that day, it chose the King. King Iota was blind to its dangers, unaware that something so seemingly harmless could be his undoing. The box whispered to him, mimicking the voice of his late wife, Queen Gloria, whose death had left him broken. Her voice, soft and desperate, lured him in. The Box understood him , his fragile human nature , malleable and naive , and wove him a wonderful fantasy .

"Help me, my love," the box called to him. "I am trapped here. Open this box, and we shall be together once more."

The king, overwhelmed by grief and longing, could not resist. He laid a trembling hand on the box's smooth surface. In that moment, it drained him—body, soul, and blood. His lifeless body collapsed to the ground, and from the cracks that split open along the box's surface, something emerged. The first of the Butterflies. Hungry and free, they descended upon the King's corpse, fusing with it, and in an instant, he rose again—a twisted, monstrous version of the man he once was , Butterfly wings bursting from his back , dead eyes fixed upon his own people , hundreds , even thousands, oblivious to the danger they were in . 

King Iota had become the first Mariposa.

The Butterflies swarmed from the box in greater numbers, spreading through the land. And with every passing day, the darkness they carried devoured more of Elysoria. The peaceful kingdom was now under siege by its own nightmares, and soon, the entire realm began to collapse. Each day , more of the creatures escaped from the Box , like blood rushing out from a tear in the connecting point of two different dimensions.

As the infection of the Butterflies grew, Elysoria's people fell one by one. The first victims were lone travelers, their disappearances dismissed as accidents. But the Butterflies grew bolder, attacking in groups, savoring their prey. They did not kill quickly—they played with their victims, relishing the fear.

By the time the people realized the full scope of the threat, it was too late. They fought back, lighting their forests aflame to drive the creatures away. But each time, the flames were smothered by the suffocating night, a night that would never end. One by one, the defenses fell. What had once been a thriving kingdom became a war zone, and in a single, horrific night—later called The Full Moon Killings—Elysoria fell.

The darkness consumed everything. The Mariposas, twisted corpses brought to life by the Butterflies, tore through the remaining villages. The forests burned briefly, before the unnatural night extinguished the flames. The last circle of survivors huddled together, their torches flickering as the darkness crept closer, swallowing the light. The Butterflies, circling above, watched hungrily, savoring their final act . However , they were soon tiring of this meaningless charade , which was to them a strange ritual performed by prey already doomed to die.

The people of Elysoria were wiped out, reduced to ashes and whispers on the wind. But the Butterflies were still not satisfied. Their numbers had grown too great, their hunger too vast. They turned on the land itself, draining it of life. The once-beautiful kingdom withered—its skies eternally black, its plants rotting, its animals curled up in death. The very ground crumbled away, the kingdom vanishing from the face of the earth. No trace of Elysoria remained, erased from existence by the hunger of the Butterflies.

The world carried on, unaware. The other kingdoms dismissed Elysoria's disappearance as an unfortunate natural disaster. Perhaps a volcanic eruption or tsunami had claimed it. No one cared to investigate further. Elysoria, after all, had always been an isolated place, and its vanishing was a relief to many jealous nations.

No one would ever speak of the land that once was—until a long time later, when the tale of the Box, the Butterflies, and the lost kingdom would resurface once more, as the darkness spread to new lands.