Precisely three o’clock in the afternoon, the city of Mhadi falls under siege when an elegant scourge drifts in on a hot, dry wind.
Farmers complain of ravished crops and vineyard fruits drained of flesh.
Nobles fall like flies.
The Regent declares a state of emergency and bars himself in his bedroom chamber, but by sundown, the royal bloodline lies sprawled in blood. Servants speak of figures in black plate armor pacing palace halls.
The very next morning, a southern breeze lifts a swarm of dark butterflies from the city and carries them off to another nation, their empire expanding by the day.
lalala of rowan nhaima rhys 