The Forgotten
858 Words
The air was cold and heavy inside the cemetery. Clouds gathered above, casting long shadows across the cracked headstones and brittle grass. In the open grave, Xylenne stood defiant despite the dirt clinging to her blue dress and the shallow cut across her forehead that bled in thin crimson lines.
"I'll scream really loud," she said, her small voice trembling but firm. "Somebody's bound to hear me."
Lady Varra smirked. "We're at a cemetery, dear. Who comes to a cemetery? The dead here are forgotten."
Xylenne froze at the word, forgotten.
It sank into her like a blade, the echo of her first life crawling up her spine. Forgotten by the world, by everyone she'd loved, buried without justice. "Forgotten..." she repeated softly, her eyes glinting with something sharp. "I know what you want."
Lady Varra raised an eyebrow. "Which is?"
"My fortune," Xylenne said coldly. "We can strike a deal here and now, and I'll pretend none of this happened."
Lady Varra laughed, glancing at her husband. "God, a child trying to make a deal, she sounds so stupid."
"I can't take it seriously either," Lord Varra snorted. "But humor me, kid. What's your deal?"
"When I come of age," Xylenne said, voice clear despite her trembling hands, "I'll give you ten percent."
"Ten percent?" Lady Varra chuckled. "That's nothing. Go big or go home, right, honey?"
"You greedy pigs," Xylenne hissed, glaring up from the pit. "Ten percent would pay off most of your debts, and you know it."
Lady Varra blinked, her laughter faltering for a moment. "Honey... why's this child sort of intelligent?"
"Probably stuffed her nose in a book with my brother," Lord Varra said. "But books don't get you far, kid."
"And neither does fraud," Xylenne shot back. "The higher you climb, the harder you'll fall when everything collapses."
That hit a nerve. Lord Varra's face twisted with anger. He snatched baby Marinel's wooden block from her lap and hurled it down into the grave. The hard wood struck Xylenne across the forehead with a sharp crack. She stumbled back, crying out, clutching her head as blood began to trickle down the side of her face.
"Repent, you evil child! Do it now!" Lady Varra shouted, her voice shrill.
Xylenne lifted her chin, blood dripping onto her dress, her eyes blazing with fury. "You're both monsters," she hissed. "You don't deserve the titles you hold."
She picked up the block and threw it back, but Lord Varra dodged easily, laughing.
Meanwhile, far beyond the gates of the cemetery, Zephyros knelt before two gravestones, one belonging to his late wife, the other to his daughter. His hands were dirty, his voice hoarse from whispering to ghosts. "I made a deal with a child," he muttered bitterly. "I can't believe I said that earlier... and I don't even intend to keep it. I couldn't even protect you." His hand trembled as he brushed dirt from his daughter's name carved into the stone.
"Everything will be okay," he said softly, his voice cracking. "When she's adopted, I'll be free of all this... It'll just be us here again."
Then, faintly, in the distance, he heard it.
A voice.
"You can crawl out all you want, brat, but you're not getting out until we get through that thick skull!" shouted Lord Varra's voice, distant but unmistakable. And then... "I'll get out of here one way or another! Even if it means putting Marinel at risk, I don't care!" Xylenne's voice screamed, carried by the wind. Zephyros' blood ran cold. His heart pounded. "You evil child! How dare you even think of putting a child at risk!" Lady Varra shouted. "Speak for yourselves!" Xylenne's voice shrieked. "I'm seven, seven! You've slapped me, pulled my hair, shoved me into a grave, threw a baby toy at me! I'M SEVEN!"
Zephyros stood up so fast his knees almost gave out. That voice...
He sprinted toward the cemetery, following the shouting that grew louder with every step. "That's barely anything," Lady Varra said mockingly. "You speak such nonsense!"
"Look at yourselves!" Xylenne screamed from the hole. "Arguing with a child over money you can't even manage properly! You waste everything you touch!"
"Insolent little—!" Lady Varra tore off her heel and hurled it down. It struck Xylenne's temple with a dull thud.
Xylenne gasped, stumbling, her knees buckling. She clutched her head, dizzy. Her small frame trembled. The pain was sharper now, deeper, worse than in her first life. Then...
"What's going on here?" came a familiar voice. "I thought you were all supposed to be at the beach or something?" Lady Varra turned sharply. "Z–Zephyros!?"
"HELP ME! I'M DOWN HERE!" Xylenne's voice tore through the air. Zephyros rushed forward, his boots crunching against the dirt. He stopped short, staring down into the grave, and froze. There she was, Xylenne, standing in the dirt six feet below, her white hair matted with blood and soil, her blue eyes wide with fear.
For a moment, he couldn't breathe. His chest tightened, his pulse roared in his ears. "What... what have you done?" he whispered, his voice shaking.
- Writer
