The ocular implants in your eyes vibrated, abrupt enough to make you stumble in the entrance of Roscaelifer. Biting your lip, you held your hand over your right eye and heard a strange voice.

cHilD of gOd. pHaEthon.

aNd ThoUgh GrEatLy yOu DaRed.

yOu FaIlEd.

Closing your eyes, you let out a groan that came out as more of a whimper as something twinkled under the sun.

foLLow ThE ButTerfLy.

tHe ButTerfLy DrEam.

Pulling your hand away from your right eye, you warily and slowly moved in the direction the metallic butterfly was leading you to, eyes picking apart the shops and streets for any sign of... who was leading you to them through the insect. The ground shuddered under your shoes, even with your careful steps, and the sound echoed throughout wherever you were being led to. To say it was unnerving for you was an understatement.

It didn’t seem right.

Taking two steps back you stared, open mouthed and stunned at what the butterfly reached.

A hand.

The woman instinctively gazed back. Long black hair that framed a healthy face and a thin-lipped smile. She wore an eye-cover that looked like it saw you, but gave you a chill as though she was looking through you instead. So out of place.

And when she spoke, she spoke with a calm voice, like the eerie voice of a storyteller. “If one dreams that they were a butterfly dreaming as themselves, or themselves dreaming as a butterfly, how can one tell if they’re dreaming or awake? Phaethon. You must know the answer, correct? I, The Storyteller, need to hear an answer from the Great Proxy.”