The town bazaar shimmered like a pocket of dreams.
Beneath a sky brushed with lavender clouds, the cobblestone streets of Moonhollow were lined with glowing stalls, ribbons fluttering in the breeze, and chattering villagers sipping honey-rose lemonade from floating cups. The air carried the scent of sugarplums, old books, and a hint of magic.
Liora walked beside Ciela, their arms looped, weaving through the crowd. Ciela wore a dress of soft blue muslin with moonbud petals tucked into her braids, while Liora wore cream with golden threads that caught the sunlight. Her journal peeked out from her bag, nestled beside the butterfly chocolates she still hadn't eaten.
"I heard Uncle Thayer made lavender punch," Ciela whispered, glancing around with a grin. "And Marnie baked her mood-pastries in star shapes."
Liora giggled. "I hope no one's feeling heartbroken. Last time someone bit into a 'longing tart,' they cried on the jam."
Ciela laughed, then leaned closer. "But seriously... you think the celebration tonight is for... you?"
Liora hesitated. "Granny and Uncle have been whispering. And Marnie gave me that look again."
Ciela gasped softly. "The chosen one look?"
Liora rolled her eyes, though she smiled. "Not that dramatic. But... maybe. Granny said the mirror remembers me. That it sings my name."
They passed a stall selling cloud-shaped soaps and one with hats that adjusted their size depending on your mood. In the distance, someone was playing a flute that made the sky sparkle.
Perched on Liora's shoulder, Pim-a fox no larger than a teacup-twitched his stained-glass wings.
"Did I just hear guardian talk?" he said, licking icing off his paw. "You two are hiding juicy secrets."
"It's nothing," Liora said quickly.
Pim snorted. "You're as bad a liar as Marnie's lemon buns."
Ciela whispered, "We were talking about the Garden. The Butterfly Glass."
Pim blinked. "The Garden? The forbidden one with talking roses and a tree that eats clocks?"
"No one said anything about a clock-eating tree," Liora muttered.
"Take me there," Pim declared, hopping to her bag. "I insist."
"No," Liora said. "It's not allowed. And Lady Seraphine-"
"She'll adore me," Pim interrupted. "Everyone does. Look at this face."
He fluttered his wings with a smug sparkle. "Come on, Lio. Just a peek. You're curious too."
Liora bit her lip. "Ciela, should we-?"
Ciela shrugged, eyes wide. "I mean... if he's already buzzing..."
And that was how, ten minutes later, they found themselves sneaking past the crooked trees behind the apothecary, past the sleepy fence that whispered riddles if you touched it-and standing before the towering gate of the Garden of the Butterfly Glass.
The gates shimmered like dew-silver and moonlight, vines twisting through the iron like veins of gold. As Liora reached out, it swung open with a sound like a sigh.
A tall figure stood just beyond.
Lady Seraphine.
Her robe shimmered like flowing water. Butterflies clung to her arms and hair, glowing gently. Her voice, when she spoke, was like petals falling on water.
"No visitors," she said, gazing at them with unreadable eyes. "The Garden is not for wandering."
"We didn't mean to intrude," Liora said softly. "Pim wanted to see..."
But Seraphine's expression shifted. She took one step forward. Her glowing eyes studied Liora's face.
"You," she whispered. "You've grown."
Liora blinked. "You... know me?"
"The Glass knows its guardian," Seraphine said gently. "It called to you the moment you breathed your first. Come."
With a gesture, she led them into the Garden.
It was more alive than memory.
Trees curved like dancers, their branches tipped with tiny lanterns. Flowers shimmered with music, and a brook sang lullabies in a forgotten tongue. The Garden smelled like rain and memory.
Seraphine led them to the clearing where the Butterfly Glass stood.
A tall, elegant mirror encased in vines and etched with symbols. It pulsed softly, like it breathed.
Liora stepped closer. "Why can't I see him?"
"Not yet," Seraphine said. "The mirror is bound by ancient spells. Until you come of age-twenty-it cannot show you what you most long for. That would wake the bond too soon."
Liora lowered her gaze. "But I... I need to know."
"You will know," Seraphine promised. "When the moon marks your turning, the mirror will open. And he-Evanor-will see you too."
They followed her to the old Garden library, hidden behind a curtain of silver vines.
It was filled with ancient books, feathers, pressed flowers, and scrolls that hummed softly. Liora's fingers trailed along the spines-until one caught her breath.
It was worn, the leather soft with age. A silver butterfly on the spine.
She opened it-and her breath hitched.
Poems. Tiny sketches of wildflowers. Notes in a looping hand she knew from old letters.
"...This was my father's," she whispered.
Seraphine nodded. "He used to come here often. He believed in the mirror before most dared to."
Liora's hands trembled. "Do you think... he and my mother... could still be alive?"
Seraphine tilted her head. "Magic doesn't always end with death. Sometimes... it waits."
As they turned to go, Liora paused, reaching into her satchel. Her fingers found the soft envelope-creamy parchment sealed with a wax moonflower. She held it out.
"This is for you," she said softly. "There's a gathering tonight at Thimble & Thistle. Uncle Thayer, Granny Elowyth, and Marnie Thistlewick planned it. It's my birthday, and... I'd really like you to come."
Lady Seraphine took the envelope gently, her silver-ringed fingers brushing Liora's. She looked down at the seal, then back at her.
"I haven't left the Garden in years," she murmured. "But for you, little star... I may just follow the call."
༓☾༓
The celebration was held in the enchantment-twisted halls of Thimble & Thistle's shop.
The inside had transformed-floating candles, twinkling stars on the ceiling, and garlands made of glowing herbs. Music played from a harp no one touched.
Liora stepped in, wearing a gown of deep twilight blue with tiny pressed violets sewn along the sleeves. Her hair was in soft curls, tied with a ribbon the color of dawn. A silver butterfly clip rested above her ear.
"You look like starlight," Ciela whispered, hugging her.
Granny Elowyth beamed from her vine-covered chair. Uncle Thayer offered a proud nod, and Marnie gave her a tart that sang Happy Birthday.
The villagers danced and drank petal punch. Pim performed a sarcastic toast from the top of a floating teacup.
Then, as the bells of the village chimed twenty times, Father Merrin stepped forward. Stars shimmered on his robes.
"Tonight," he said, his voice deep and soft, "we gather not just for a birthday... but for a beginning."
He turned to Liora, raising his lantern high.
"The Butterfly Glass has spoken. Moonhollow's new Guardian is here."
A hush fell over the crowd. Then applause burst like rain on rooftops. Ciela clapped with tears in her eyes. Granny nodded like she had always known.
And Liora-blushing, glowing, breath caught in wonder-felt the weight of it settle over her like a cloak of stars.
Above, the butterflies danced through the rafters. And far away, in the depths of the Garden, the mirror began to glow.
Moonhollow slept under a quilt of stars.
༓☾༓
The wind outside hummed lullabies through ivy-wrapped shutters, and the village lanterns flickered like drowsy fireflies. But, Liora was wide awake.
Her room was glowing gently-strings of fae-lights tangled across the ceiling, gifts stacked like enchanted towers on her bed. Pim lounged on her pillow, nibbling a sugar-crystal from a candy flower someone had given her.
"That one smells like moonbutter fudge," he said, sniffing a parcel tied with moss ribbon.
"They all smell like magic," Liora whispered with a smile, peeling open the paper.
Each gift was stranger and lovelier than the last. A jar of stardust that whispered fortunes when you shook it. A brooch made of woven spider-silk and frost. A music box that only played when no one was looking directly at it.
Ciela had gifted her a charm bracelet with tiny charms that bloomed into flowers depending on her mood. Uncle Thayer gave her a compass that spun only when a lie was nearby. And Granny Elowyth? A key made of mist and hope, with no lock to match.
But what caught Liora's eye wasn't wrapped in ribbon.
Her gaze drifted to her bedside table-where the old, timeworn book rested.
Her father's book.
She reached for it slowly, her fingers brushing the leather cover. The silver butterfly on the spine shimmered under the light. She opened it to a random page-and the scent of pressed flowers and ink lifted into the air.
There, written in her father's looping hand, was a poem.
༓☾༓
"To the One Who Will Find Me"
I left my voice in the hush of trees,
Where moonlight bends and rivers freeze.
I carved my truth in a dreaming stone,
And whispered love where roots have grown.
If you have eyes that see the skies,
And hands that cup the fireflies,
Then find me, child, where silence sings-
Between the mirrors and the wings.
༓☾༓
Liora traced the words, her breath still.
A soft gust stirred the pages. And then-light.
Glowing.
The butterflies.
They fluttered in through her open window, silent and golden, their wings glistening like tears and moonlight. They circled once-then hovered, waiting.
Pim sat up, wide-eyed. "Uh... Lio? Either I've finally eaten too much candy or..."
"They want me to follow," she whispered.
Liora slipped on her cloak, heart fluttering like wings in her chest, and tiptoed out of the room. The butterflies danced ahead, guiding her through sleeping halls, down creaky steps, and into the starlit streets of Moonhollow.
Past the wishing fountain.
Past the closed bazaar where dream-soaps still shimmered behind glass.
To the Garden gate.
It opened at her touch, with no sound but the sigh of wind.
And there-beneath the night sky painted in deep velvet-stood the Butterfly Glass.
It shimmered like moonwater, quiet and alive.
Liora stepped close, her reflection rippling.
Then it changed.
On the other side, bathed in silver-blue light, stood a boy.
His hair was silver-soft and wind-swept, like it had been kissed by stardust. His eyes held stories-ancient and aching-and his voice, when it came, wrapped around her like a forgotten melody.
"...Liora."
She blinked. "You're real?"
The boy inclined his head, solemn and graceful, as if acknowledging her presence across a fragile veil.
"I am," he replied, his voice low and resonant, like wind through winter branches. "Though 'real' may not be what you expect."
Liora stepped closer, her breath misting faintly in the cool night air. "Who are you?" she asked, though part of her already knew.
"I am called Evanor," he said. "Once a son of this village. Now... a remnant."
His gaze lingered on her, soft with sorrow, deep with knowing. "You have your mother's hands," he murmured. "And your father's steadiness."
Her heart stilled. "You knew them?"
"I did. Before the mirror claimed me-before the curse turned my life into memory." He looked down, the silver light tracing the elegant line of his jaw. "They searched for truth. And they paid a price."
Liora's fingers tightened around the edges of her cloak. "Then the stories were true. The mirror... the guardian... all of it."
"Yes," Evanor said gently. "And now it is your turn."
The butterflies hovered between them, their golden wings stirring the silence like a hush before a storm.
Liora looked into the glass-into the boy suspended in time-and found herself unable to look away. "Why me?"
"The Butterfly Glass chooses not with logic, but with longing," he said. "You carry within you the quiet strength to hold what others would flee from. You listen to things most never hear. You see not only what is, but what aches to be."
She swallowed. "And what must I do?"
"You must protect the mirror," Evanor replied. "Keep its truths hidden from those who would twist them. The day will come when its power will be sought by darker hands."
Liora's brow furrowed. "And you? Can you ever be free?"
A flicker of pain crossed his features. "That depends," he said softly. "On whether the guardian dares to follow the path no one has walked before."
The wind stirred again, and the butterflies began to scatter-drifting upward like petals carried by a dream.
The light within the mirror dimmed, and Evanor's image began to fade.
"Wait-!" Liora took a step forward.
But he only offered a quiet smile, one filled with centuries of silence and hope. "This is only the beginning, Liora."
And then he was gone.
The glass stilled.
Only the night remained.
And Liora stood alone in the garden,heart thrumming with questions-and the first shimmer of destiny.
༓☾༓