Kestrel paused briefly, allowing her psychic ability to gently flow into Brandon’s psychic landscape.
Inside Brandon’s psychic landscape, everything looked shattered. The ground beneath was crumbling, hardly offering any solid ground to stand on. The sky overhead was a mix of strange and unexpected sights.
Massive gaps resembling open mouths seed to chatter nonstop. The stomachs of bugs throbbed as they produced eggs; delicate wings of butterflies were gradually torn away by unexpected hands, and fearful eyes peeked from behind slightly open doors... The view was a wild mix of confusing images; everything was mixed up and out of place.
In this place, Brandon’s mories were all jumbled. Those mories about rebellions, secret plans, and attempts to take down the Tower appeared to be covered by a mysterious blue wing. They were smudged together, turning into one unclear blob, hidden from sight. Only scattered, hard-to-understand pictures were left.
So, Kestrel realized, the Queen likely didn’t find what she was looking for here. And Kestrel wasn’t sure of her next step either.
Suddenly, a blue butterfly with a wobbly flight approached. Even with its single, torn deep blue wing, it bravely flapped in front of Kestrel.
"Please, co with ," Kestrel heard the gentle, youthful voice of the beta.
Then she saw a figure — it was the beta’s psychic incarnation. Although only half of him seed intact, he persevered, existing within the maze of Brandon’s psychic landscape.
Kestrel started following the butterfly, journeying through this wild world where human body parts and eerie insect forms rained down.
The small blue butterfly, glowing like a precious sapphire, led the way for Kestrel. It was a beacon of clarity in this mixed-up realm. As it flapped its tattered wing, it would occasionally glance back, perhaps worried Kestrel might lag behind.
Since both of them were betas, they understood each other without words. Kestrel could sense the butterfly’s mix of worry, sadness, strong resolve, and a driving need to rescue soone no matter the cost.
So, carefully stepping over a jumble of faces, eyes, and insect forms, Kestrel hurried after the radiant blue butterfly, swiftly moving through the expansive ntal world.
After what seed like forever, they ca upon their end goal: a worn-down alley filled with trash, where rats and cockroaches scuttled around in search of food.
In the dimly lit alley, two young boys, twins, walked closely, their hands clasped tight. Their bond was so strong, they seed almost like one person, always staying connected.
The skinny boys shared a corn cob, munching on it turn by turn, not even sure of its origin.
"This might just be the tastiest thing ever," comnted the leaner twin.
"When I grow up to be a true alpha, I’ll get this for you all the ti. Maybe every month. No, every single week," responded the other, who bore a striking resemblance to a young Brandon.
Brandon’s mind was on the brink of collapse, showcasing the most profound and harrowing mories of his life.
Side by side, the two boys were sharing their al when the sound of a door interrupted them. It slowly creaked open, casting a dim rectangle of light onto the wet ground. Within that patch of light, the silhouette of a grown man appeared.
To any onlooker, he might seem just like an average middle-aged man, possibly the boys’ father. He had thick glasses perched on his nose and his thinning hair looked unkempt. Yet, to the young eyes of the boys, this man held an intense and fearso power.
In the psychic realm, the man’s head began to grotesquely enlarge. His face twisted with anger, horns protruding from his forehead like those of a demon, and he let out an otherworldly scream.
Kestrel, attuning her senses, identified the sound. It was eerily similar to the whistle of a kettle as water boils.
With rage in his eyes, the man lunged at the boys, a pot of boiling water in his grip.
Without hesitation, young Brandon dove in front of his brother, absorbing the full force of the burning water on his back.
Kestrel, viewing this mory, felt a wave of pain as if the boiling water had been splashed onto her. It felt so real, so searing.
Suddenly, a fragnt of a blue butterfly wing expanded before Kestrel, shielding her and warding off the intense pain.
Through the translucent glow of the wing, Kestrel watched in horror as young Brandon began to dissolve under the blistering heat, akin to lting wax.
The entire mory around her warped and distorted, as if made from wax. As it all ca undone, Kestrel plunged into yet another mory.
She found herself in a cramped room filled with several young faces, though they were indistinct and blurry.
Brandon, younger, leaned against a door, his gaze distant, peering through a wide crack. Beyond the crack, nurous pale hands adorned with opulent rings thodically ripped wings from butterflies.
The hands were deliberate, moving from one butterfly to the next in a heart-wrenching cycle. The once brilliant blue wings, now marred with red, littered the ground.
Kestrel’s instincts told her to reach out, to pull Brandon away from the door.
But then, from deep within Brandon’s entranced eyes, a fla kindled. It surged through him, using his body as fuel, spreading like wildfire.
The room was quickly engulfed, the ferocity of the blaze threatening to consu everything. Within the heart of the inferno, Brandon was being overtaken, his form being lost to the flas.
Suddenly, a strong arm stretched out, hoisting Kestrel to safety, away from the devastating firestorm.
Kestrel gazed upon the beta, who had magnificent butterfly wings. This beta had the look of a young boy with strikingly good looks and a voice that was lodic and soothing to the ears. Part of his body appeared ethereal, almost like you could see right through him.
"It’s not too late," he murmured, sadness evident in his voice. His words seed ant for Kestrel, but maybe he was also trying to reassure himself. "There has to be hope still."
Despite one of his wings being torn and having difficulty maintaining its flight, he deftly carried Kestrel above a blazing sea of flas, through a realm of utter chaos, until they reached the calm shoreline of a peaceful lake.
This lake stood still and serene, bordered by water plants that moved gently with the breeze. Amidst the dewy grass, tiny lights from fireflies speckled the surroundings. Two identical boys were seated by the water, fishing together, their hands intertwined. Every so often, a fish would leap out, causing the nearby blue-winged butterflies to flutter in surprise.
"See, in this psychic world, I appear as a firefly and you’re a butterfly," the younger twin explained to Brandon. "That doesn’t make any less than you."
"Being a beta doesn’t an we’re weak like the tales suggest. I don’t dream of the Tower. I aspire to be a fierce warrior when I grow up. Then, it will be my duty to shield you."
Brandon chuckled, "That’s the spirit. Betas have their own strength." His face, not hidden behind glasses then and illuminated by the soft glow of fireflies, bore a bright, youthful smile. "Promise you’ll have my back in tis to co."
Suddenly, Kestrel descended from her aerial view. The scene with the twin boys by the lake began to blur and fade. In a fleeting mont, the shimring fireflies and the radiant blue butterflies vanished into thin air.
The once vibrant lake now seed like a lifeless, murky pond. Floating above this inky water was a colossal firefly. It was Brandon, transford into a hybrid – part insect, part human, representing his alpha status.
This firefly version of Brandon seed to be sinking deeper into the water, with its faintly glowing belly subrging. The upper human half – his pale chest and arms – floated just above the water.
Brandon lay there, suspended in the mire of the lake, his gaze fixed on the tumultuous skies above, looking eerily like a lost soul.
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