1 The Beginning

Chapter One:

Days of sunshine, secrets, and a spirit.

__

The sinuous blades of green swayed lackadaisically along with the early spring breeze, entwined with fluttering satin petals, and bathed in rays-or arbitrary speckles, of golden sunlight. Despite the glorious weather on a warm Tuesday afternoon, a mother's disconsolate weeps had intertwined with the ebullient orchestra of birds, contrary to the unmercifully exuberant atmosphere.

A girl-barely a woman, swathed in dense black silks, was perilously clutching a small bundle, and watered it with her everlasting tears. The man beside her, similarly, clad in black, gazed into the faraway distance- what he was looking at; no one knew. The servants stood behind them, silent, a cloud of gloom settling over them as they farewelled the little prince.

The mother clasped her dead child's corpse closer to her embrace, rigidly, as though if she willed it desperately enough, her baby would return to her. However, the fragile body remained stone cold. Even when heartbroken servants gingerly approached her, as a painter would approach a baby fawn, holding back gleaming tears that threatened to adorn the grass like morning dew, and despite giving futile attempts to comfort her loss, her hold did not loosen. The love of mother was too stubborn; unable to accept the truth.

The father adopted another approach. He pusillanimously avoided the eyes of his distraught wife and servants, and remained stoic, not betraying any emotion. Even when the butler, his eyes glistening with a glossy sheen, frantically urged him to support his overwrought wife, he shook his head dismissively- his sword, symbolising bravery- yet unfit for a funeral, at his waist clinking, keeping his head regal and high.

The rest of the servants joined the lady's side, their eyes disappointed and alight at the man who drowned in self-pity at his own son's funeral.

Midday on a beautiful Tuesday, the soft gust of wind playfully brushed past the fields of chrysanthemums.

***

"-and they say that when a child breathes their last; they become a guardian for another child." he recited, honey rolling off his tongue and his voice sweetening the air. As he glanced down at the girl resting her head in a comfortable position in his lap, his long eyelashes brushed against his cheekbones. The young girl looked up back at him, yet still a child of loveliness and pureness as she shot him a mischievous grin.

"That means you're my unpaid nanny!" she giggled- unfazed by the unimpressed look he shot at her, and continued to braid his transparent, silvery hair with more daisies, savagely plucked from the neatly maintained garden.

The boy's mouth thinned into a line of derision as he fished the millions of flowers out of his hair, "Elodie, I have half the mind to undo the braids that you've been creating for the past two hours, despite my numerous grievances."

"Don't be petty- I'm sorry." She immediately began to curry favour, giving him a grin resembling an ambitious merchant, "You do look very pretty though!"

And although he rolled his eyes and scoffed, he couldn't help but feel a little pleased- after all, it was heart-warming to be complimented once in a while. "I was once a prince of a great nation; and now I have been demoted to a mere nanny."

Elodie remained silent, continuing to smile pleasantly- even though she knew he was a little flustered by her flattery.

***

Many, many moons ago, a young child, still in pigtails and baby teeth had roused to the sound the waves of rage outside her bedroom.

Nothing unusual nor strange.

It didn't concern her parents whether she heard the eerie echoes of their bickering- they never even seemed to restrain themselves back from physically harming each other in front of her.

Knives, sharp nails, empty wine bottles.

Even when she wept bitterly and the suffocation of despondency clawed at her heart, they paid no attention to the mere waterdrops silently dripping onto the cold, marble floor, creating little puddles of Elodie's reflection of her melancholy.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

A gust of wind escaped into her room and the white curtain's fluttered, dancing like maidens in love, seeping silvery moonlight on the wooden floorboards.

The night felt oddly lonely- a five-year-old had no place in this heavy atmosphere, no matter the continuous streams of gifts showered at her to keep her mouth sealed. Elodie had long stopped eavesdropping on their arguments or blocking her ears from the muffled accusations.

The servants knew everything, the only thing that kept their mouths shut were the heavy weight in their wallets. They silently continued their night shifts and dusted the walls, swept up the shards of glass and mopped up the various scattering of blood.

Elodie rolled in her bed, letting the cool satin of her pillow caress her cheek and wiggled her legs under her thick, velvet blanket. She didn't realize when one of her many toys tumbled off her bedside table. However, it only took Elodie to realise a boy sitting on her windowsill, tenderly kissed by the gleam of white light.

"Who are you?" She demanded in her soft voice that did not inspire any intimidation or fear. Elodie stiffly backed further away, tension building in her shoulders as she desperately clutched her teddy bear as a sense of protection, mistrust uncurling in her stomach.

"Hm." The boy with the grey eyes and petals untidily adorning his soft silver curls, as though he had fallen from the sky, mused. "Perhaps I'm just another one of your hallucinations."

***

He was a very enigmatic person, even now, Elodie barely knew anything about him.

After the lingering shock of finding a boy on her windowsill, Elodie had asked him curiously, tilting her head in the moonlight to appraise him, "What's your name?"

He only shrugged, slow and deliberate, as if he had something to hide. Back then, Elodie was too young to understand the weight of the soundless words.

"Maybe you can give me a name." He smiled nonchalantly- a simple line etched on his face without any meaning.

This was probably his first mistake, after all- how could we expect a five-year-old to utter any words of poetry or creativity?

"Lily!" Elodie clapped her hands, her mouth widening as her hazel eyes lit up in a type of joy children managed to produce at the simplest of things, "My name's Elodie, and it's a type of lily, we can be matching!"

"I know." He had answered, whether he knew her name or about the lily, he did not explain. However, he hastily changed the topic from his name, "We can talk about my name in the morning, but for now; sleep."

Maybe it was because of Elodie's childlike naivety, but she drifted to sleep immediately, accepting the fact that a boy her age that she had never met before was in her room, and her screaming parents the next.

***

When she woke up, she immediately scrambled out of bed to check if the mysterious boy was still there or if he had left her alone. He was sprawled on the windowsill with half of his upper body threatening to fall out the window and into the rose garden below. Last night's sheen of mystery glossed over him was torn apart and left a young, pure boy in its departure.

Elodie decided to wake him up- but not before she impulsively grabbed a few lilies out of the vases in the hallway to embellish his locks of hair.

"So why would a ghost visit me?" Elodie asked curiously, unwearyingly undoing the abundant of knots in the necklace she had secretly stolen from her mother while the boy dried the last of the strands of hair that the lilies had dampened earlier.

Her mother never noticed- or maybe she didn't want to confront the girl she called her child. Besides, Elodie didn't like jewellery; however, she did like the love she always imagined receiving. Years of neglection had allowed desperation trickle into her mind to coerce her to resort to stealing just for attention.

Perhaps it was because the ghost boy was so close to Elodie, but he noticed the shadowy shift in Elodie's eyes, uncommon in children her age.

"The universe told me you needed a friend." The boy had answered placidly, his eyes dark as he watched Elodie as a general would study his army before a battle.

"I have plenty of friends." Elodie pouted, two twin dark spots materializing on her cheeks, as she squeezed the numerous stuffed toys on her bed- poor replacements for companions.

The boy said nothing, but his silence spoke volumes. He smiled- his pretentious friendliness a farce for peace.

"But why are you here? Why would you choose to come here?" Elodie asked, her previous annoyance forgotten as she wanted information about the boy, "Why don't you go to heaven now?"

Blunt words from a young child, releasing daggers to sting at the boy's heart. She didn't notice the boy's jaw clench, his eyes obscured, and a sense of vulnerability was revealed for a few short moments.

"What do you like to do for fun?" He inquired amiably, a brief distraction from the topic before and his fists forcibly uncurled.

For the next few hours, they watched the many, many collections of baby Elodie, being adored by her parents. They embraced her in their arms, cooed at her as she laughed and enjoyed sunny picnics with her. Even though their marriage was arranged, Elodie seemed to be the bridge of peace between them; their mutual joy.

She was.

Elodie wondered what happened.