Three thousand butterflies.
He was able to summon them almost effortlessly. All it took was parting his lips to blow a soft gush of air, waving his fingers to cast a spell, and he felt something shift.
The world went quiet, and a sharp noise pierced through the silence.
The butterflies appeared all at once: shades of crimson, teal, cyan, all measures of sizes, and a synchronicity that narrated the presence of a conductor.
There was sparkles and glitter in the air. It is a sight you could get lost in. The swarm encircled over him, forming a cyclone-like shape. His calming presence was fixed at the eye of this storm. Time effectively stopped everywhere else.
There was him, the colored aura, and nothing else. You would derive a sense of safety, a protection in this space. There would be light replacing darkness, joy replacing the glum. That’s just what he did.
Is there anything to be more afraid of than the becoming of peace in another man’s presence? There is fear in the stillness, there is pain in the exposure. That is sometimes exactly what you need.