“The volcano was so huge that when the sun rose in the east, it would crest upon the highest peak of the volcano, and it would look like the volcano was bringing the light of the sun to the people who lived below.”
Even as there are monsters that hunt us, there are guardians who protect us.
I don’t remember much from when I was seven, but I remember the thing. I remember the fear. And I remember her.
The Northern Star that guides those who are lost from sky to earth to ocean was born of a flower. So was the giant Scorpion, the Herald of Death, who carries the departed past the veil into the afterworld. And so was the Blue Butterfly, the Emblem of Life, who guides newly arrived souls to their earthly anchors. The star, the scorpion, and the butterfly. The three are bound by an ancestor at once humble and extraordinary. It had no name in its short life.
Now it is called Imberflos, the Stormflower.