The Bit Bucket

A Transgender Paranormal Romantasy

From the Paranormal Visitor Universe

Chapter 1: The Butterfly Garden

By Sasha Zarya Nexus

Only girls can teleport from the butterfly garden to Aislinn's College, so what is middle aged Fred doing on the equinox at the butterfly garden trying yet again to do magic?

Copyright 2025 by Sasha Zarya Nexus.
All Rights Reserved.

The autumn equinox painted the Butterfly Garden in shades of amber and gold, each leaf catching the slanted light like stained glass. Fred stood among the swirling monarchs, their orange wings creating a living kaleidoscope around him as they prepared for their own impossible journey. His heart hammered with anticipation—today felt different, charged with possibility.

He closed his eyes and let the sensation wash over him: the electric tingle that started in his chest and spread outward like ripples on water. For thirty-six years, he'd carried this certainty within him, this bone-deep knowledge that he could step between worlds if he just believed hard enough. The butterflies seemed to sense it too, their flight patterns growing more frenzied, more purposeful.

The ancient college, he thought, picturing the crystalline spires he'd seen in dreams, the halls where students learned to bend reality itself. It's waiting for me.

The joy built inside him like pressure in a steam engine. This wasn't mere hope anymore—it was faith made manifest, burning bright as the equinox sun. Fred opened his arms wide, feeling the cosmic alignment of the season, the perfect balance between light and dark that made all transformations possible.

"I can do this," he whispered to the butterflies. "I know I can."

The world held its breath. Then Fred took a step forward—not with his feet, but with his entire being, pushing against the fabric of reality with pure intention. The garden exploded in white light.

When the brilliance faded, Fred found himself standing in a room that shouldn't exist.

Medieval stone walls rose around him, but they seemed to breathe with their own inner light. Tapestries depicting impossible geometries hung between arched windows that showed not sky, but swirling galaxies. The air itself felt thick with magic, making his skin tingle as if he'd walked through spider webs made of starlight.

A slate hung on the nearest wall, its surface smooth as black water. Without quite knowing why, Fred approached it and picked up the piece of chalk resting in its wooden tray. His hand moved almost of its own accord, spelling out his name in careful letters: F-R-E-D.

The moment he finished, the letters began to glow with soft blue fire.

"Welcome to the Bit Bucket," said a voice behind him.

Fred spun around to find a young woman watching him with eyes the color of storm clouds. She wore robes that seemed to shift between blue and silver, and her dark hair moved as if touched by an unfelt breeze. Something about her face made his chest tighten with recognition, though he couldn't place where he might have seen her before.

"I'm Gwendolyn," she said, stepping closer. "But you can call me Gwen. I'm what you might call a spirit monitor—your guide in this place."

"This place?" Fred's voice came out rougher than he'd intended. "I was trying to reach the college. The ancient one, off-planet."

Gwen's expression softened with something that might have been sympathy. "I know. But the Bit Bucket catches those who don't quite fit the college's usual categories. Think of it as... a waiting room for the metaphysically displaced."

She gestured to the walls around them, and Fred noticed for the first time that they were covered in names—thousands upon thousands of them, glowing faintly in the stone. "Everyone who's ever been caught between worlds ends up here eventually. The equinoxes are particularly active times for such transitions."

"Caught between worlds?" The words sent a chill down Fred's spine. "You mean I'm trapped?"

"Not trapped," Gwen said carefully. "But the way forward requires mastery of skills you haven't fully developed yet. Teleportation brought you here, but escaping... that requires understanding reincarnation as well."

Fred stared at her, his mind reeling. The joy of successful teleportation was rapidly giving way to a creeping dread. "How long have people been stuck here?"

"Time works differently in the Bit Bucket. Some find their way out in what feels like days. Others..." She gestured to the older names on the walls, their glow nearly faded. "Others take much longer to learn what they need to know."

As if summoned by their conversation, the air in the room began to shimmer. Fred felt a presence pressing against the edges of his consciousness—ancient, vast, and somehow familiar. The sensation was like trying to remember a dream that kept slipping away.

"The spirits are stirring," Gwen murmured, her eyes growing distant. "They can sense the change you've brought. Your arrival has awakened something that's been sleeping for a very long time."

Fred wanted to ask what she meant, but the words died in his throat as images flashed through his mind: a woman with eyes like starlight wielding power that could reshape reality; another figure wreathed in shadow, her beauty terrible and cold. The visions came and went like lightning, leaving him gasping.

"What's happening to me?" he managed.

Gwen's hand found his shoulder, her touch surprisingly warm and solid. "You're not just anyone, Fred. The Bit Bucket doesn't call to ordinary people. There's something about you—something that connects you to the ancient powers that shaped this place."

The room pulsed around them, the medieval stones seeming to breathe with renewed life. Somewhere in the distance, Fred could swear he heard the sound of wings—not butterfly wings, but something vast and powerful stirring to wakefulness.

"I need to get back," he said, though even as he spoke, he wasn't sure what he was going back to. The Butterfly Garden felt like a memory from another lifetime. "There has to be a way."

"There is," Gwen said quietly. "But it's not the path you think. The way forward isn't back—it's through transformation itself."

Fred looked at her sharply, something in her tone making his pulse quicken. "What kind of transformation?"

Before she could answer, the slate on the wall began to glow more brightly. New words appeared beneath Fred's name, written in the same flowing script but in a hand, he didn't recognize: The wheel turns. The sleeper wakes. What was divided shall be made whole.

Gwen's face went pale as she read the words. "It's beginning," she whispered. "After all these centuries, it's finally beginning."

"What's beginning?" Fred demanded, but the room was already starting to change around them. The medieval stones began to shift and flow like water, and the air filled with a sound like distant thunder.

In that moment of chaos and transformation, Fred caught sight of Gwen's face in profile, and the recognition that had been nagging at him finally clicked into place. He knew those storm-gray eyes, that stubborn set to her jaw. He'd seen them before, in another life, in another world.

But that was impossible. Wasn't it?

The Bit Bucket pulsed once more, and everything went white.