Ev was no longer surprised by how easily he could speak out loud – even though he had been thinking full sentences for many, many years now. In this world, he had spent a whole year thinking flawlessly, and articulately, but out loud it was only for a few weeks could he fully speak, although he occasionally snuck in his small baby-ish thoughts to maintain his façade.

“Dinner is yummy,” he said to Lyria in his small, soft voice, but clearly nonetheless. “Thank you, Mom.”

Lyria turned towards him with an illuminating smile, “Ev! You speak so clearly sometimes! Oh, my little honey toast, you’re getting so old.”

Harold interrupted, “He’s basically a nobleman with his etiquettes, so young as well.”

Ev simply smiled in response. He wasn’t trying to boast or impress, in fact he didn’t even realise he was smiling. He just smiled naturally.

“You know, tomorrow’s a special day,” Lyria announced with a not so subtle grin.

Special? Is there another festival or something

“It’s your birthday!” Lyria continued, allowing her full jovial mood spill out.

Ev blinked, that word felt foreign, he froze midway through his chew.

Ev choked on the half-chewed piece of bread on his mouth, coughing it out into a rag. Harold rushed to almost force feed him some water, and Lyria rubbed his back gently - slightly nervous now.

“An entire year old!” Harold exclaimed when Ev was more stable, extending his arm raising one finger, “I can’t even believe it myself, it feels like just a week ago was the mana festival and a month ago, you were born.”

It really has gone by quick…365 days, no scorning, no abandonment, not used once, just…just warmth, and unconditional love

“Wow, what does that mean, what now?” Ev enquired with his fork trembling.

“You’ll have to wait and see!” Lyria responded, not realising Ev’s traumatic intentions behind the question.

Ev walked outside, barefoot, onto his family’s wooden deck and down into the yard. The stars each decorating the sky like freckles on a face. He went over to his favourite spot under the old oak tree, where he called his “training ground”, but the grass was soft, and he could see each and every star in all its magnificence, unobstructed. He laid down flat with his arms behind his head.

A birthday.

What does that word even mean…

In my first life it was just a number. A marker counting how many months remained until I was “unfit” for the programme. No one celebrated, just changed a number. No one lit candles, and the only songs they sang were the anthems. We practiced regimens and charts just like any other day. The closer I was to being disposed of – discarded.

In my second life, my birthday became a national holiday, where they’d essentially worship me for introducing my sciences into their primitive world. That day there were plenty of parades, speeches, and celebrations too, but none of them were by choice. They were by decree – by force. I never celebrated it myself, for me: it was just another checkpoint reminding me of time and power and the inevitability of betrayal.

Betrayal.
Of course, these “parents” must just be softening me, lowering my guard to leave the blow of betrayal to sting that much more. Besides, who could love me anyway…

This life, Ev just stared at the stars, drowning himself in memories of lives that were no more, they were gone now. Gone forever.

Inside, Harold and Lyria were clearing the table. Lyria folded a cloth napkin with care, setting it aside.

“I was thinking…” she began, “we should do something special tomorrow. Something he’ll remember. Even if he’s too young now, we can remind him of it later.”

Harold leaned back in his chair, smiling. “I already have something in mind.”

“Oh?”

Harold whispers something into Lyria’s ear leaving her to respond, laughing softly and stood. “Alright, but if he likes it more than he likes me, I’m blaming you.”

“You already have a head start,” Harold said, watching her disappear into the bedroom.

Harold, still restless, stepped out into the crisp night air, when he stumbled across, under that oak tree, a boy asleep, undefended against the harsh winds.

Instinctually, Harold brought out a blanket and placed it over Ev, allowing him to rest amongst the ambience of nature, just that night. He pushed Ev’s gentle curls up – exposing his forehead, and gently rubbed them, exhaling before he left with a smile firm on his face.

“Happy almost-birthday, little guy.”