The Silk Butterfly returned to her side. It went straight into her shadow without saying a word. After returning from eavesdropping on the conversation, it didn't start its nagging. Ethel left her to rest in silence. A knight flinched when she opened her eyes. The tip of the spear knocked against the iron bar. The light struck on her crimson eyes, deepening the glow like a burning red glass. He squeaked like a tiny mouse, stumbling backwards until he fell on his butt. I just opened my eyes. She sighed, rolling her eyes.
Ethel kept her words. She won't harm a single soul, yet her words always fall on deaf ears. As the sun reached to the peak, she winced at the sunlight screaming at her face, peeling her skin again and again as it kept regenerating. It would be a nightmare to let these knights witnessed her being cooked alive without dying.
"You heard that," she told the butterflies inside the shadow. "Ashendel."
One scarlet butterfly flickered at the mentioned of that name as it reignited its faded flame. The corner of her lips lifted barely. A shadow slumbered deep inside, now awakened.
"How long has it been? A sin of both mortals and mine swept that once beautiful town. A part of you remained there."
The knights gasped. A butterfly arose from the shadow, resting on the bridge of her nose. It had only one flaring wing on its right side, covering her eye. A flightless butterfly. An incomplete shadow.
"Lamifel," One-winged butterfly whispered of the past, cold and weary.
"Even the past is coming back to bite me." Silk Butterfly sat in the corner, refusing to look at the other butterflies. "Leave her be. Lamifel isn't a memory she wants to relive."
"Is the sinner inciting its curse?" The knight whispered.
Ah, I forgot I'm not alone. Ethel pressed her mouth shut. A habit of talking with her abyssal shadows was abnormal for them. Like a child talking to an imaginary friend or a demon enticing an innocent life. When she looked up, the Luminary was already at the window, observing her. The commotion must have alerted him. His glare warned her not to do anything.
"You should go back." Ethel gently brushed the wing. Without its other wing, the flame stripped of its warmth. One-winged butterfly dispersed itself into embers.
"Sir Luther wants us to get ready for the departure to Ashendel tomorrow at dawn. Take only what we need for the journey." The young red-haired knight cast a quick glance at her before walking away quickly.
"Luther. The voice," she said in a low voice.
A name she just learned from hearing bits of the knights' whispers. She knew there were seven luminaries similar to the seven sinners. Only five of them actually stepped outside to hunt the sinners. The remaining two lived in seclusion within the walls of their Lumina Cathedral.
Maybe that stranger is his predecessor. The stranger too had a bell accompany him as Luther. Unlike the sinner's reincarnation, luminaries rely on passing their teaching and sacred weapons to a new light. Is it a tradition for the luminary of voice to keep their lips sealed? A necessary requirement for the mortal to hold the position.
I'm dead anyway, so why bother finding out something that's not mine. Ethel leaned her head against the bar. Maybe a little too rough, the knights stopped whatever they were doing. Ethel shut her eyes back. This time she'll stay quiet until death brings her back.