Lyssandra Blackheart turned sixteen a few weeks ago, but today she didn't turn a thing.
Oh wait. She turned a page.
She sat on her roof with her face buried deep within a book; only she was not really reading the words on the page. She was actually listening to her mother scream her name from inside the house. She groaned and slipped in through her open bedroom window. Inside she spotted her mother, she held an open envelope in her hand.
"It's from the Palace." Was all she said before her mother carelessly tossed it into her unmade bed. With careful precision Lyssandra reached inside and pulled out a letter printed on purely white paper, the Palace insignia on the bottom right corner of the page. Her eyes scanned each row of perfectly aligned letters, forming words that seemed to come straight from her nightmares.
Dear Ms. Blackheart
We are happy to inform you that you have been hand selected by Crown Prince Elliot to participate in the sector Z draft.
I have sent a carriage to your address to come and retrieve you. I wish you the best on your travel here. We are awaiting your arrival.
Sincerely,
Lady Wendlyn
Lyssandra's grip on the paper turned from careful to careless in a matter of seconds; her entire body quivered in anger, and her eyes resembled what Hell must be like. She stomped out of her room, slamming the door in a fit of rage. She barged into the living room where her mother resided. She sat on the couch, a cup of warm tea in her manicured hands. She looked up at her angry daughter, instantly recoiling at the sight of the letter in Lyssandra's closed fist. She swallowed once. Then twice.
"Lyssandra dear, what's the matter?" She spoke in a shaky voice, silently she placed her tea cup on the coffee table. While Lyssandra just grunted out a reply and shoved a fist full of paper in her mother's face. "What have you done?" A low growl escape from Lyssandra's gritted teeth; provoking the older woman that sat in front of her, spiking her own anger.
"You know exactly what I did. I sent your information to the Palace and entered you in the draft. Dear Gods, I was hoping you'd be accepted!" Lyssandra has never felt as small as she did right at this moment. Her own mother, family blood; just sold her out to the Palace. For what? She didn't know. "Now, when that carriage arrives I want you out of this house, understand!"
She turned her back on her mother and her heart as well. She cried until her body refused to continue shaking, until all her tears dried out, until she could no longer acknowledge the pain as she dragged suitcase after suitcase, and lugged them into the carriage; the very same one that would take her to the Palace. She unwillingly stepped inside before the driver shut the door, she looked back one final time and then they were off.
Deep down inside she hoped she'd never have to see this place ever again, but fate had a funny habit of messing with her life sometimes.