I don't want to go back!!

That night, just as I was about to close my eyes, a voice shattered the fragile happiness I had found.

“She has to be here somewhere!”

My blood ran cold.

It was them. The barbarians.

Their voices were harsh, deep, like growls from the underworld. My body trembled, panic surging through me. I stumbled to my feet and ran, my bare feet striking the earth, breath ragged, heart slamming against my chest. Branches clawed at my skin as I pushed through the trees, but I didn’t stop. I couldn’t be caught. I couldn’t go back.

But no matter how far I ran, my small body betrayed me. My legs weakened, my knees buckled, and I collapsed onto the forest floor. Tears streamed down my face, blinding me. The pounding of their heavy boots drew closer, shaking the ground like drums of war.

“I don’t want to go back,” I whispered, voice trembling.

At that moment, a soft glow appeared before me. The butterfly.

It landed gently on my forehead.

A warmth spread across my body, and then—suddenly—a halo of pure light encircled me. My form was wrapped in brilliance, hidden beneath a veil of radiance.

The barbarians stormed into the clearing, their towering shadows swallowing the moonlight. I could hear their snarls, smell the iron scent of blood clinging to their armor.

Yet when they looked, their eyes passed through me.

“She’s not here,” one growled in frustration, slamming his axe into a tree.

They prowled the clearing like wolves, searching and cursing, but they did not see me. Finally, with grunts of anger, they turned and retreated, their heavy steps fading into the night.

Only then did the light fade from my skin. The butterfly rose from my forehead, circling me once before vanishing into sparks of gold.

I lay there, trembling, too shocked to move. But I was alive.

The light had hidden me. Saved me.

And for the first time, I began to wonder—

Why me?

I've been saying that edge of the word

And so my life began.

Seven years passed, and I was no longer the frail child who once collapsed in the forest. I became a wanderer.

The butterfly never left me. It became my silent guardian, my guide through the endless paths of the world. When I strayed too far into wilderness, its gentle glow would drift ahead, leading me safely toward villages. When hunger gnawed at me, baskets of fresh fruit would appear at my side—fruits that the butterfly whispered were mine to sell.

In every village, I became known as the quiet girl who arrived with baskets of ripe fruit and left with little more than a soft smile. I never stayed long.

Whenever it was time to move on, the butterfly would shimmer with light, and my belongings—clothes, coins, bundles of fruit—would rise as if carried by unseen hands, drifting gently after me.

The villagers called me blessed. Some called me cursed. But to me, it was simply life.

A life of walking roads alone. A life of silence. A life where my only constant companion was a butterfly made of light.

And though I wandered, I never forgot the shadows of the past.

They were always chasing me. Even if I could not see them.

One day, after leaving a village, I paused on the edge of a sunlit path.

“Ahhh…” I sighed, letting the warmth of the morning fill me. “That village… it was so nice. Where are we going next?”

The butterfly hovered before me, its glow soft and comforting. It never spoke, yet somehow I always knew what it meant. Thoughts, ideas, directions — they appeared in my mind, like whispers from a silent speaker, guiding me without words.

I smiled, shaking my head. “You really don’t talk, do you?”

It circled my head once, then drifted ahead, a beacon of light among the trees. I followed, trusting it as I always had.

Sometimes, I wondered if it was alive in the way humans were alive, or if it was something far older and wiser — a creature that had chosen me long ago and would never leave.

Whatever it was, I knew one thing: wherever it led, it would always be safe.

And so, together, we walked — through forests, over hills, along winding paths — a girl and her silent companion, moving through the world like a story yet to be told.

We finally stopped at a small orphanage nestled at the edge of a quiet village.

I stared at it, frozen in place. The building was humble, yet there was a warmth in its walls, a promise of safety I hadn’t felt in years.

After seven long years of wandering, surviving, hiding, and healing, I felt a whirlwind of emotions — fear, hope, doubt, and a strange, aching longing for belonging.

The butterfly hovered around me, glowing softly, circling my head like a guardian spirit. Its light pulsed gently, reassuring me without words, whispering in the silent way only it could: You are ready.

I took a deep, steadying breath.

Then, with the weight of my past still clinging to me, I stepped forward.

Into a new life.

A life where perhaps I could belong.

A life where the light that had saved me all those years ago could guide me not just to survival… but to something more.

The butterfly fluttered close, brushing my shoulder once, then rose into the air. I watched it dissolve into the morning light, leaving me with a quiet strength I hadn’t known I possessed.

And for the first time in my life, I felt… at home.

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