“Heya! Wanna help me out?”

  Roland blinked up, startled, the golden light of the setting sun momentarily blinding him. The quiet beneath the tree shattered with that single question, her bright voice cutting through his haze like a pebble dropped into still water.

  He sat up quickly, brushing strands of grass from his clothes as his gaze settled on the girl leaning over him. Long, wavy hair tumbled down her shoulders, its pale white strands catching hints of yellow when touched by sunlight. Her eyes — sharp, fiery orange, almost crimson — glimmered with an energy that felt entirely out of place in this tranquil field.

  Roland hesitated, caught between confusion and curiosity. “…Help you with… what?”

  She grinned and pointed toward the highest branch of the tree behind him.

  “There! See that?”

  Roland followed her finger — and his breath caught.

  Perched delicately on a blooming branch was a Dream Butterfly, its translucent wings glowing faintly in the sun’s dying light. Each movement shimmered with soft traces of blue and gold, like a living fragment of the shattered moon.

  “They say if you catch one,” the girl explained, lowering her hand dramatically, “it’ll grant you a wish.”

  Roland stared at her, skeptical. “…That sounds ridiculous.”

  She puffed her cheeks slightly, placing both hands on her hips. “Well, I believe it! And I want to catch it. But I can’t reach the branches on my own, so…” Her gaze drifted meaningfully toward him. “I need a foothold.”

  Roland blinked. “…You want me to—”

  “Yup!” She clasped her hands together and leaned in closer, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Just this once, alright? Please?”

  He crossed his arms, shaking his head at first. “Absolutely not. It looks dangerous.”

  She groaned dramatically and flopped back onto the grass, staring at the sky like a wounded hero. “Guess I’ll never get my wish… so tragic…”

  Roland frowned, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “Why do you even want one that badly?”

  She shot him a quick smile. “No reason.”

  Something about the absurdity in her answer pulled the fight right out of him.

  Roland sighed. “…Fine. But if you fall, it’s not my fault.”

  “Deal!” she said instantly, hopping back onto her feet.

  Before he could regret his decision, she planted her foot onto his shoulder, balancing lightly with practiced ease. Roland braced himself against the trunk, steadying her as she grabbed the lowest branch and began to climb.

  “Careful,” Roland muttered, craning his neck to follow her movements. “If you fall—”

  “I won’t fall,” she called down, her voice full of misplaced confidence.

  A sharp crack interrupted her words as a small branch she’d stepped on earlier splintered and dropped toward Roland’s head. He dodged instinctively, stumbling sideways into the grass.

  “See?” he snapped, looking up again. “That’s what I’m talking about—”

  But she wasn’t listening.

  Anastasia was already halfway up the tree, creeping closer and closer to the Dream Butterfly. Her bright eyes locked onto it, determination burning. Just as her fingertips brushed the glowing wings…

  The butterfly took flight.

  “Hey! Get back here!” she shouted, scrambling higher in frustration.

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  And then, without warning, the branch beneath her cracked.

  “Wait—!” Roland barely managed to raise his arms before she landed directly on top of him.

  The two toppled backward together, tumbling down the small hill beneath the tree. Dry grass cushioned their fall, but the roll left Roland dizzy and gasping for breath.

  When they finally came to a stop, Anastasia lay sprawled beside him, staring up at the sky with wild, windswept hair and a dazed smile. Then she laughed.

  It started softly — a quiet giggle — then quickly grew into full, bubbling laughter. Roland blinked at her, bewildered, before letting out a shaky laugh of his own. The sound felt strange in his throat, unfamiliar… but light.

  Anastasia sat up first and extended a hand toward him. “I’m Anastasia!” she said brightly, thrusting her arm upward, her palm flat, fingers together — a gesture sharp and deliberate, like holding a sword.

  Roland blinked at the gesture, recognizing it instantly from Reina’s customs. “I’m Pri—…” He hesitated, then lowered his voice. “Roland. My name is Roland.”

  He pressed his right hand gently to the center of his chest — Inferna’s greeting, a gesture of heart and oath.

  “Nice to meet ya, Roland!” Anastasia said, beaming.

  Before he could reply, the Dream Butterfly drifted lazily past them, its wings glowing faintly in the dying sunlight.

  “Hey, there it is!” she shouted, springing to her feet.

  Roland groaned as he stood, brushing grass off his shoulders. “Again? We just fell down a hill.”

  “Well too bad!” she grinned, pointing toward it. “We’re not letting it win!”

  Roland sighed but couldn’t hide the faint smile tugging at his lips. “Fine… but this is the last time.”

  “Wait little butterfly! I’m not going to crush you! Ill be gentle!” She shouted.

  And just like that, the two of them took off across the golden field, chasing the Dream Butterfly together as the sun began to lower behind the hills.

  The butterfly drifted lazily above the golden grass, its wings catching the dying light of the sun. Each flap scattered tiny motes of faint, shimmering dust, like fragments of starlight falling to earth.

  Anastasia darted forward, laughing breathlessly as she chased it, her pale yellow-tinted hair catching the glow of the sunset. “Come on, Roland!” she called back, her voice bright and teasing. “You’re slow!”

  Roland, panting slightly, followed behind her. “I… I’m not slow! You’re just reckless!”

  “Reckless is fun!” Anastasia shot back, flashing him a grin before lunging forward again. The dream butterfly danced just beyond her fingertips, hovering low enough to tempt but never close enough to catch — almost as if it understood the game they were playing.

  For what felt like hours, they ran across the hills, weaving between the tall stalks of golden grass. Sometimes Roland managed to corner it; other times Anastasia nearly trapped it in her hands — only for it to spiral effortlessly upward, teasing them both before descending again.

  Their laughter carried through the open field, the kind of laughter born from unspoken connection — simple, pure, and weightless.

  ***

  By the time the sun dipped low toward the horizon, they collapsed into the grass together, side by side, their chests rising and falling in unison. The clouds above burned orange and rose, while the shattered moon hung faintly in the sky, a pale, broken sentinel among the fading blue.

  Roland turned his head slightly, watching Anastasia from the corner of his eye. Her smile was soft now, less mischievous, her chestnut-crimson eyes reflecting the dying light like embers. She looked alive — brilliantly, impossibly alive.

  Something stirred in his chest. Strange. Unfamiliar. A quiet warmth spreading slowly, like the first breath of spring after a long winter.

  For a long while, neither spoke. The wind whispered gently through the grass, and the butterfly circled lazily above them as if mocking their failed chase. Finally, Anastasia broke the silence, her voice soft but curious:

  “…Roland,” she murmured, still gazing at the sky. “What would you do if you actually caught it?”

  Roland blinked, following the butterfly’s slow drift with his eyes. “The dream butterfly?”

  “Mm.”

  He thought for a moment before answering, his voice low but certain:

  “I’d… use it to change Inferna.”

  Anastasia turned her head sharply, her expression caught somewhere between surprise and amusement. Then she laughed — short and bright, like wind chimes in a summer breeze.

  “That’s boring!” she declared, sitting up abruptly and pointing her finger at the sky as if challenging the heavens themselves.

  Roland frowned. “Boring? How is that boring?”

  “Because wishes shouldn’t be safe,” she said, her voice brimming with unshaken confidence. “If I caught one, I’d wish for something grand. Something no one else would dare.”

  She extended her arm toward the horizon, her hand curling into a fist around invisible dreams.

  “I want to explore the world,” she said softly, her voice steady, alive with longing. “To find the unknowns, fight in grand battles, discover hidden lands, and live a legendary adventure!”

  Her words struck Roland like a chord reverberating deep within his chest.

  For just a moment, her voice blurred with another — faint and distant, from another life, another world.

  “I want to explore the world.”

  “Go on adventures.”

  “Even if I can’t see them… I want to feel them.”

  Roland didn’t realize he was smiling faintly until he spoke, his words leaving his lips before he’d even thought them through:

  “Then… I’ll be your eyes,” he said quietly. “I’ll have that adventure with you.”

  Anastasia turned toward him, eyes widening slightly at first — and then she smiled, wide and brilliant, like sunlight scattering across water.

  “Sure!” she said brightly.

  In that moment, beneath the fractured moon and fading sun, Roland felt something begin — something fragile and new, carried on the soft wind and sealed beneath the endless sky.