Fa Call

On the wall, among a multitude of butterflies pinned with tiny pins, hangs a fairy. Her wings are light and transparent, and her face is pale as chalk. The fairy is dead. Above hangs a gracefully eerie Latin inscription: "Flos Fairy"—a fairy who helps plants grow with her wings. It fills you with unease, as if you were once that fairy. Your man's strange hobby of catching butterflies has escalated into murdering fairies who are unable to save themselves. You accidentally touched the inscription, and everything flared and sparkled. A silvery glow, like large flakes of snow, enveloped you. Now you were suspended in the air, flapping your wings, and before you was your corpse, pinned to the wall with long pins, and the inscription read "My Fairy." What was happening...?