The child ran through her ancestral home in search of her mother. She ran past angry teachers, startled guests and servants begging her to slow down. She looked in every room, careful not to miss any spot where her mother could be. Fearful of dropping the glass jar containing her prized catch, the child proceeded with an uncanny gracefulness that only children can achieve.

"Mommy," she cried loudly, "Mommy, where are you?" The child climbed the elegant staircase to the second floor-they truly were rich-and started to check those rooms as well. Still not finding her mother, the child called for her yet again. As she ran down the hall, however, she bumped into a large mass of flesh she wasn't too intent on seeing: her father.

He usually looked very cheerful and pleasant, but when he was angry, Danil, son of Raimos, could look very menacing indeed. This was not one of his cheery moments. Looming over his daughter like the Cyclops over weary travellers to the Cadz Temple, Danil wore a liberal coat of shame on his stern face.

"Shiva," he addressed his daughter, "you know not to disturb your mother during her reflections." Reflections? Shiva knew what her mother was doing all too well, and reflecting was not the right word at all.

To her father, she said, "But she's never here in the afternoons, Daddy!" Shiva was losing her temper rapidly. She loved her father, of course, but she could also feel her mother's pain. If she tried hard enough, Shiva could hear her mother's prayers in the daytime. Her mother's seclusion was all of his doing.

"Your mother needs to pray for good fortune, Shiva. This is the only free time she has."

"I don't care!" the six-year-old screamed, "She should be spending that time with me!" Now enraged, Shiva threw the glass jar at her father's feet. Wheeling around, she bolted down the stair, evading Danil's shouts of anger. Sobbing, the child left her home with the contents of the jar forgotten.

Danil, however, had seen what was in the jar his wretched daughter had been holding. It was a butterfly. Not just any butterfly, though. He noticed that the colours on this one were somehow off. Just looking at it sickened him. Purple, pink, orange and blue in seemingly random blotches, the wrongness of it angered him more than his worthless daughter's outburst.

Walking slowly toward the stupid, flapping thing, Danil stomped his foot down into the mess of broken glass surrounding the butterfly. Feeling shards penetrate his heel and toes, he pressed down harder, making sure to kill it. Lifting his massive foot, he saw that the stupid creature didn't move. Perfect. Satisfied, Danil walked back to his study, a smirk on his face, leaving the mess behind for one of the maids to clean up. Oh, and it had better be cleaned up by the time he left. Otherwise, some heads were going to roll, oh yes.

~~-~~~=~~~-~~

Thankful for the shield it had raised around itself, the butterfly flapped its wing tentatively. Confident in its ability to fly, it swooped around the hallway of the second floor, watching for anything threatening. It had work to do, but that would have to wait until her new mistress returned. Content to rest in the rafters of the hallway's ceiling, the strangely coloured insect hid as a maid laboured up the stairs with broom and dustpan. There would be much waiting for the next few hours, but for now, all the butterfly could do was watch as the pudgy maid picked up the glass that littered the polished wooden floor.

~~-~~~=~~~-~~

Sitting under the willow had always calmed Shiva down, but it could do little to improve her mood today. Still, she didn't want to go home just yet. She longed to gaze at the butterfly she had won and lost earlier. With its intriguing array of colours and strange asymmetry, it had been her greatest catch ever. Though she was sure she could get another butterfly with little trouble, Shiva knew she would never catch another one like it. It was special, she knew, and not only because of its strange exterior.

All the same, Shiva needed something to do. So, she glanced around the park at the centre of which the willow stood. The whole area really was beautiful in the middles of the island's capital. Lush green grass, delicate, tiny little flowers, towering deciduous and evergreen trees, aged benches, all looked perfect in the dominating sunlight. Only under the large and ancient willow did shadows defeat the sun. There was enough room under the expansive dome of greenery to shelter dozens of people from the heat of summer, but for now, Shiva was alone.

Sighing, she leaned back and closed her eyes, relishing the song of the birds. Now in late spring, the birds were out in full force. Their song could be heard all throughout Ganeda and even Greenisle, but they could be heard clearest in Layne Park. Although it rarely snowed in the Realms (Shiva herself had never seen any), all the flocks would migrate to Marie's Passing for the winter months. She was happy to see they were alive and well.

The song of birds, however, was not all the Shiva could hear. From somewhere behind her, she could faintly register the sobs of a child, more specifically a boy. Puzzled, Shiva opened her eyes and, on her knees, peeked around the bark of the ancient willow.

Indeed, it was a boy who was sobbing, sitting against the old tree, his head cradled in his hands between his stubby legs. Although she didn't want to meddle in the boy's personal affairs, Shiva knew there were better things to do that day than be sad. Making her way around the tree's trunk, Shiva seated herself beside the sobbing redhead.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

"Go away," he snapped back, not even bothering to lift his head.

"You sure?" Shiva coaxed, "I bet I know what's bothering you."

"No, you don't!"

Ignoring him, Shiva continued: "I bet a bully's been giving you trouble. That's okay; I know how you feel. My father's the biggest bully I know." Lifting his tear-streaked face to his new company, the boy wore a queer neutral expression.

"I don't have a father," he stated flatly, "that's why Victor picks on me..." Shiva giggled.

"Victor? One mention of his favourite little princess doll should set him straight."

"A princess doll?" he asked, amazement apparent in every syllable. "Really?"

"Uh-huh." Both giggling uncontrollably at the thought, they eventually settled down and the boy resumed the conversation.

"Thanks for cheering me up," he managed between giggles, "I'm Rhys."

"I'm Shiva. Nice to meet you, Rhys."

"Likewise. Wanna go play something?"

"Sure!"

~~-~~~=~~~-~~

Returning home only shortly before dark, Shiva entered her home to find her mother sitting in the salon, a quartet of musicians playing a slow piece for their one-woman audience. Her father was thankfully nowhere to be found.

When Layla heard her daughter enter, she bade her sit down with her. Shiva complied, occupying her favourite chair. Smiling widely, Layla asked her if she was feeling better.

"I heard from your father," she explained, "that you had quite a temper before leaving, pie." Shiva bowed her head, fearing a scolding from her mother despite her open friendliness.

"I just wanted to show you what I'd found in the park, Mom. He wouldn't let me see you."

"What's that, dear?"

Sighing, Shiva shook her head. "I lost it."

Her mother frowned, obviously displeased. Mumbling to herself, she shook her head.

"I know your father may seem unreasonable, pie, but you'll just have to live with it." She motioned for Shiva to come to her. "Now, give your old mum a kiss before you go to bed." She did so and was promptly up the stairs seconds later, well aware it was still a fair while before her bedtime.

Upon entering her bedroom, Shiva found quite a surprise perched on the room of her lately disused dollhouse: the very butterfly she had caught earlier. Overjoyed to still have the insect, she knelt by it, gazing at it in fascination.

-Are you going to stare at me like that all day, mistress?

Shiva jumped, not expecting the butterfly to speak, for obvious reasons. She stared at it, her eyes remaining fixed on it in dumb fascination, not sure if she should answer.

-I know you are not mute, mistress. It is all right; I will not bite you. Shiva blinked, mouth agape. Realising how stupid she must look, she closed her mouth, righting herself.

"Wha--what are you?" Shiva extended her hand to the butterfly and it made its way to the inviting perch.

-I am an angel, mistress. Gaina has sent me to help you on your way. The insect flew to the windowsill, seemingly gazing out the window.

-You should sit down. We have much to discuss. She did as she was told.

~~-~~~=~~~-~~

The priestess nodded her head, rising to her feet. Her chamber was of the strangest construction Shiva had ever seen. Open to the sky yet shielded from the elements by a feat of sorcery, it was a garden as well as a meditation chamber. That day, the sun streamed freely into the room of almost pure greenery, lending it a serene atmosphere that Shiva herself enjoyed greatly.

"I see your motives are pure, daughter of Danil." Shiva rose to her feet as well. "We will train you." Shiva bowed to the priestess, showing her appreciation.

"Thank you, sister. I am happy you see me worthy."

"Only Gaina can determine if you are worthy, child. When do you wish to begin?"

"The sooner, the better, sister."

~~-~~~=~~~-~~

The sky was overcast, reflecting the mood of the gathering. Beside Shiva--now ten years old--her mother, fat with pregnancy, wept openly at the loss of her husband. Business associates of the late man wore solemn faces and inwardly contemplated the loss of profits involved in the sudden death of their lucrative business partner.

Danil had died accidentally, falling onto a sharp stone when his horse--a usually well tempered steed--threw him off in a sudden rage. There was no saving his broken skull; even the priestesses were powerless to heal the injury.

Shiva had no tears for her father. He was dead, and although she did not wish anyone such a fate, let alone her father, the man had caused her little but pain and anger. Pained by her mother's sadness, she damned the man inwardly, angered by his uncanny ability to hurt others, even in death.

Offering a prayer for the departed, Shiva left her mother's side to join Rhys, who she had noticed standing aside by a nearby maple tree.

"I'm sorry about your father, Shiva," he said as she approached. She nodded.

"I know you are, but it doesn't matter." Stealing a backward glance at her mother, she hugged her good friend and spoke in a low voice. "I have to get back to my duties. Rhys, please tell my mother I'm sorry."

"I will." With that, she left.

~~-~~~=~~~-~~

There came a knock at the door and one of the servants hurried to answer it. Puzzled by the long silence, the lady of the house went herself to investigate the arrival. What she found was a thirteen-year-old girl she could vaguely identify as her daughter. Overjoyed to be paid a visit by the secluded priestess that her daughter had become, Layla spontaneously hugged her fiercely, unwilling to let go.

"Hi, Mom," Shiva said weakly, surprised by her mother's reaction. She had been expecting some screaming, at the very least. In contrast, Layla couldn't keep herself from babbling.

"I'm so glad you're here! How long're you staying? Will you at least stay for supper? Have they been treating you well over there? Answer me, Shiva!!"

"Well, Ma, I thought I'd stay for good..." she lowered her head, unable to look her mother in the eye. "If you'll have me, that is." Her mother was now in tears, overjoyed by the news.

"Of course we'll have you! Alma-Rose will be so happy to see you!"

"Alma-Rose?" Shiva wore an expression of ignorance and puzzlement.

"Don't worry, dear, I'll explain everything. Now let's get you inside before you die from the heat!"

She was lead inside where dark, shaded rooms welcomed a weary visitor and where a little girl no more than three years old studied the new arrival timidly.

"Alma-Rose," Layla said, addressing the little one, "get your poor sister into the sitting room."

"Sister, Mummy?" she answered back, her eyes lighting up with the possibility, "My sister Shiva?"

"Yes, dear," her mother confirmed. "Your sister's home to stay." Alma-Rose couldn't help but run up to her older sibling, holding her in a fierce hug.

Shiva was home, and she knew she would stay. This would always be her home.