For the first time in almost a week Jazmyn found her way back into the gardens. The storm had flattened many of the plants and many looked as though they were dying. The birds were not singing, there was no buzzing of bees and sadly no butterflies fluttering from flower to flower.
The Butterfly was the symbol of her mother’s family and the sight of them always made her happy.
Jazmyn had never seen the gardens look so poorly. It was as though the land felt her sorrow. Even the lawns seemed to be less green and in patches had turned brown.
Today was the day that the Ceremony would be held to honour the memory of her parents. In the Grand hall of the palace a fire pit had been built that would burn day and night for all the years to come. The Grand hall would now become a place that would forever bring a tear to her eye. In year’s past it had been a place filled with laughter and wonder.
The floor of the Grand hall was polished marble and many times Jazmyn had slid across it in her robes, once even on her father’s cape as her father dragged her along. She had spent many evenings lying on the floor staring up to the roof of the hall and the huge chandelier that hung there. The chandelier had been a wedding present to her parents from the Queens’s mother and father, Jazmyn’s Grandparents. It was made from hundreds of gemstones, all reflecting light around the hall, and in its centre was the largest gem that Jazmyn had ever seen, a gem that seemed to burn with a dull flame.
And now the Grand Hall was filling with people from around the Kingdom, all to say goodbye to their King and Queen. The Queen’s family from across the sea had been unable to make the journey. Savage storms still made the waters unpassable but she had Aunt Josanna and Uncle Elword by her side. In a week’s time she would be made Queen and her Uncle and Aunt would help her rule.
Jazmyn knew she should go into the Grand Hall but she could not. She turned back to the gardens and held her breath.
“I can do this.’ she whispered and slowly turned again to the Grand Hall.
“Jazmyn.”
Someone called her name from behind her. A soft voice that seemed to come on a soft breeze. Jazmyn turned to see who was there, but there was no one. The voice came again, “Jazmyn, follow.”
“Who is there?”
In front of Jazmyn sat the last flower still alive in the garden, and perched on top of it, its wings fluttering slowly was the most beautiful butterfly she had ever seen. It wings were iridescent blue and green, dotted with pinks and oranges. The colours stood out brightly against the dying garden.
Jazmyn stepped toward it and reached out her hand but the butterfly flew away toward the edge of the garden.
“Butterflies do not talk.”
“Jazmyn. Follow.” came the voice yet again. The voice sounded familiar but she did not know why.
Jazmyn turned and looked at the Grand Hall. Something inside her felt pulled after the butterfly and despite her promise to herself, she began to cry again, and as the first tear fell from her cheek and landed on the petals of the last flower she knew she had to follow. And so she did.