Lament for My First Life

Buried Lies

The morning sun leaked faintly through the sheer curtains of Xylenne's room, turning the pale blue walls into shades of silver. A small chest sat open on her bed, inside, she had neatly folded her finest dresses and tucked away jewelry that glittered in the weak light. Her little hands trembled slightly as she arranged each piece with care.

A seven-year-old shouldn't have to plan her own escape, she thought grimly. But I know how this story ends. A firm knock startled her. "Who is it?" she called quickly.

"It's Zephyros," came the low reply.

"Come in!" she said, spinning around.

Zephyros entered, his expression tightening as he took in the sight of the open chest, the piles of silk and gold. "What are you doing?" he asked sharply. "I'm packing valuables," Xylenne said matter-of-factly. "For when Lady Varra wins custody and I have to run away. I'll sell these things and travel until I figure out what to do next."

Zephyros stared at her, stunned. "Jesus, do you even hear yourself? You're a child, Xylenne. I know losing your parents made you grow up fast, but this, this is insanity. You're driving yourself mad."

"Don't raise your voice at me!" Xylenne snapped, her blue eyes flaring. "You don't understand how bad the Varras are. This is life and death for me!"

Zephyros pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled. "Okay... I hate to say this, but the Varras want to take you out somewhere nice. For... 'family bonding.'"

Xylenne froze. "I knew it," she whispered. "Good thing I started packing early. My intuition is never wrong."

"You're not going anywhere," Zephyros said firmly. "It's just a small outing. You'll be back before evening."

"Never. I'd never stoop that low," Xylenne said, crossing her arms.

"Fine," Zephyros said with a weary sigh. "If you go, I'll buy you cake. Or bake it myself if you prefer."

"Not worth it."

"I'll speak to the headmaster and move you up a grade."

"Still not worth it."

He groaned and rubbed the back of his neck. "Alright, fine. How about this—" he hesitated, "—I'll... consider being a candidate."

Xylenne's head snapped up. "W-what? You mean it!?"

"Don't make me take it back," Zephyros muttered.

"Okay, I'll go," she said quickly, standing upright. "But you better not go back on your word."

"They're downstairs waiting," Zephyros said, running a tired hand through his messy hair.

Xylenne glared at him once before grabbing her little satchel and heading out the door.

Downstairs, Lady Varra and Lord Varra were already chatting near the sitting room, cooing over baby Marinel as if they were the perfect family. "You wanted me, now I'm here," Xylenne said flatly as she stepped down the stairs.

"Oh my! She's here!" Lady Varra sang, feigning delight.

"Come take my hand, sweetie," Lord Varra said with forced gentleness.

"No. I'll come with you. Only," Xylenne said, her voice quiet but firm.

"You all have a lovely family outing," Lord Winter said from his chair with a soft smile.

Xylenne's glare lingered on him, her supposed protector, doing nothing, before Lady Varra swept in and took her small hand. Together, they stepped outside into the sunlight where the carriage waited. Inside the carriage, the air was thick with fake sweetness.

"You'll have a baby sister soon," Lady Varra cooed. "You two will be so close when you grow up."

"Don't get things twisted," Xylenne said calmly. "I'm only here because I made a deal with somebody."

"You're a child," Lord Varra said, his brow furrowing. "Why do you speak like that?"

"And you're what?" Xylenne said coldly. "Oh, right, your father's wife had you with another man. But then again, you're the eldest... so would that make you a bastard child of my grandfather?"

The slap came fast. Lord Varra's hand cracked across her face, the sound echoing through the carriage. "Don't speak like that!" he shouted. "Who taught you such filth?"

Xylenne didn't flinch. Didn't cry. She'd lived this scene before. "I know you'll die later," she said quietly. "Drunk in the streets... stabbed and robbed by the very men you once paid to silence others."

Lady Varra gasped. "Oh my! She's trying to hex you!"

"No," Xylenne said evenly. "I just know my future. Unlike the two of you."

"That's it! Take us to the cemetery!" Lady Varra shouted to the coachman.

"Park, beach, honestly, make up your mind," Xylenne muttered.

"You have no manners, no respect, no discipline!" Lord Varra barked.

"Could say the same about you," Xylenne said. "Buying a gold mine with no gold? Brilliant, truly."

Lady Varra's patience snapped. She reached across the seat, grabbing Xylenne's white hair in her jeweled fist. "You will speak nothing during this ride! Do you hear me!?" she screamed.

Xylenne stayed still, her small face calm. I've lived this before, she thought. I cried once. I won't this time.

At the cemetery, the carriage came to a stop. Lady Varra dragged Xylenne out by the arm and down the cobblestone path, past gravestones and wilted flowers, until they reached a section of newly dug earth, a grave with no coffin. Without hesitation, Lady Varra shoved her forward. Xylenne fell, hard, dirt clinging to her dress and hair. Six feet down. "This is ironic," she muttered, staring up at them. "You killed me once before. Now we're just repeating history."

"You terrible child!" Lady Varra hissed, pointing her finger. "You'll stay down there and reflect on your behavior! Maybe then we'll come back for you."

"You can't keep me here forever," Xylenne said. "My grandfather will expect me back."

Lord Varra chuckled. "We'll just hide you until you're of age, then pretend we found you. You'll be the talk of the capital, 'Lady Xylenne found deranged in the forest, raised by wolves!'" Lady Varra laughed, the sound sharp as glass.

Xylenne's heart pounded. No... no, this can't happen again... She scrambled to her feet and began clawing at the dirt walls, trying to climb out.

"Ha! Look at her!" Lady Varra cackled, bouncing baby Marinel on her hip. "She's finally realized!" Xylenne dug her shoes into the wall, making dents, hauling herself upward inch by inch. Her hands trembled, her nails clawing into the cold dirt, Then Lord Varra's boot slammed down, kicking her back into the hole.

The world spun. She hit the bottom hard, gasping as dust filled her lungs.

Her wide blue eyes stared up at them, Lady Varra's cruel smile, Lord Varra's dark silhouette, the baby's soft babbling, framed by the pale morning light above her. And for the first time since her second chance at life, Xylenne Winters felt true fear.