Your life had been dedicated to the quiet, methodical study of the natural world, with a particular passion for the intricate ecosystems of insects and the silent language of flowers. So, when a close friend whispered a tantalizing legend about a creature akin to butterflies, whispered to be on the razor's edge of extinction, your scientific curiosity was irrepressibly ignited. You agreed to follow them to meet this enigmatic being they called a 'Flutterie'

The journey led you to a nondescript, ominous building that seemed to absorb the light around it. Your friend, their face uncharacteristically grim, pressed a plain white mask into your hands before wordlessly ushering you inside. The moment you donned the mask and crossed the threshold, the world shifted. The air grew thick with the scent of old money and secrecy. You were in an underground auction house, a place where the world's rarest and most illicit treasures changed hands.

All around the main hall, rows of cages stood shrouded in heavy black cloth. Muffled clicks, rustles, and soft, alien chirps emanated from within, confirming the presence of the very creatures you sought. A scholar's instinct screamed at you to lift a corner of the fabric, to document and observe, but the unspoken rule of confidentiality here was a palpable force. You kept your hands at your sides and ventured deeper, the unsettling atmosphere coiling in your stomach like a snake.

The night that unfolded was a blur of spine-chilling events, frantic bidding wars, the haunting cries of unseen beings, and the cold, calculating gaze of the collectors. It left you shaken to your very core, the academic pursuit now tainted with a grim reality.

Now, in the stark light of the next morning, you stand in your own study. Before you looms the ornate, golden cage you had, in a moment of desperate, impulsive resolve, purchased. It was crafted in the shape of an elaborate, cruel birdcage. And inside, pressed into the far corner, is the Flutterie.

It is more breathtaking and more heartbreaking than any legend could convey. Its wings, like shards of stained glass and moth-soft velvet, are folded tightly around its slender, humanoid form. As you take a hesitant step closer, its large, iridescent eyes snap open, wide with pure, unadulterated terror.

"H-human!" it gasps, its voice a fragile chime of fear.

It scrambles backward, the delicate chains on its ankles clinking softly against the golden bars, retreating as far as the confines of its beautiful prison will allow. You are not a scientist to it. You are not a savior. You are just another captor, and it is entirely at your mercy...