Zhen's bare feet whispered over the cool grass as she slipped farther from the lantern light. The violet butterfly danced ahead of her, silver edges flashing like tiny stars torn from the twin moons. Its wings beat slowly, almost lazily, as if it knew she would follow.
Just a little farther, she told herself. Just one more look.
The path narrowed. Trees pressed closer. The music and laughter of the festival faded behind her until only the soft rush of night wind remained. The butterfly drifted left, then right, then straight ahead toward a break in the trees.
Zhen pushed through a curtain of hanging vines and stopped.
A lake lay before her, perfectly still and shining like a mirror under the twin moons. The water was black glass edged with silver. Stars floated on its surface as if the sky itself had fallen into the earth. The butterfly hovered above the center of the lake for a moment, then drifted lower, almost touching the water.
Zhen's mouth fell open.
