Written by MekaelB

Dear father;

I sentenced a Unicorn to the gallows. His name was Baheri Redfern, and he had recently passed his nineteenth cycle. He was a slender young lad with cerulean skin whose single horn had only recently began to lengthen. I got to watch his eyes, red like a rose, gape at me from the ramparts. It took a few moments for him to realize that he was doomed.

A week prior, he had ordered a sack of medicinal herbs for his ill mother. He hefted the bag through the pristine silver streets of Hightown until the guards caught him. To their eyes, they saw another unicorn, a dirty beast of burden that ruined their beautiful city's image. As a result, he was dragged like an animal through the back-alley roads and thrown into jail.

"He had a bag full of strange alchemical concoctions," they cried," He was going to commit a crime!"

The nobles were less sympathetic; they ordered me to call for the boy's execution; in exchange, I would receive a nice bonus to my pay for the month. It wasn't a hard decision to make. I was no longer a victim; I was free.

The Unicorns that fill the dung encrusted streets of Shantytown are not like us. We hauled ourselves up from the bootstraps while those below us only wasted away. Against all the odds we persevered, we won a war against impossibility itself.

We were not lucky.

I remember when we were still living in our cot back within the Wyld Forest. I can still smell the sandalwood that attached to your fur. Some nights, I can even feel the minuscule prickling that threatened to send me into coughing fits as a child. You were an incredible woodcarver father. An artist they used to call you, an upcoming genius within the forest.

I remember that, unlike the city, our home was alive. Overgrown by vegetation that wrapped overtop one another like sleeping giants. The breeze would brush against my face, bringing with it the quiet echo of the forest. We could run over to the nearby river to feel the gentle lapping of water against our hooves. When the weather was hot, we could relax under the shade of an adjacent tree.

It was good back then, we still had the freedom, as defined by Unicorns, to do what we pleased. The malcontents that survived the disaster had not ruined what the unicorn was. We were respected, and we were strong.

We were not lucky.

Do you remember father? When the disaster struck, the black smoke smothered the sky. The water had boiled into steam that burned at the slightest touch. Animals clawed for safety even as they died from the vapour. Moreover, the trees, as if they weren't even there, crumpled into ash. You held me with your arms, shielding me from the heat as our beloved forest burned. It was a nightmare. The fires mercilessly ravaged our home as if it had a mind of its own.

We walked for days through that abyssal hellscape of fire and ash. The echoes of the forest disappeared, replaced by a different kind of quiet, pure absolute silence. I was afraid to utter a word, terrified of some imagined threat that lurked in the darkness. It hit me all too hard; I was going to break from the gravity of it all. However, you kept me going, encouraged me to trudge on even as our skin sizzled and our hooves cracked. To continue forward until we saw the light once again, and could breathe air that was free from the haze of death.

"Persevere until we're free my boy, "you had rasped, "We will be free from this torment soon."

Eventually, we saw the sky. Hope, relief, happiness, sadness, joy, it was all too much, and I collapsed. You carried me until we reached the caravan, and began to make our way to the kingdom of Arkadia. The days turned into weeks as we trudged past the wasteland and came upon the country's Iron walls. A monolithic structure that rose high up into the sky, engraved with depictions of Arkadia's might against its enemies. A powerful reminder to all those that enter through its gates.

We were not lucky.

Do you remember the home bequeathed to us by the Arkadian Nobility? It was a minuscule tent placed on the outskirts of the city's borders while they built-up an extension in Shantytown. The ground was wet with Arkadia's waste, from discarded remains of food to slow-moving sewage that leaked from pipes adjacent to the camp. The muck would soak around our hooves, causing minor breaks in the bone as our step became unsteady. Disease was quick to spread from the shit and piss that roiled around us at all times.

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Survival was the goal when we were in poverty, so you decided rightfully to go out and work. A simple answer to a simple solution, yet to find a job in the city proved to be more complicated than it turned out to be. Unicorns numbered in the thousands within the ghetto, we were replaceable and the merchants capitalized on that. Who could blame them? They had access to workers fueled by desperation; they could do whatever they wanted.

You were enraged at the supposed mistreatment they extended to the unicorns. An outspoken voice within the community as you worked, too vocal. It became a frequent occurrence to see you bounce between jobs. We skirted death, always on the brink of starvation due to your selfishness. You should have bowed your head and carried on, respected the Arkadian nobility as we occupied their land. I'm glad you learned to appreciate our betters after they captured you. It's a shame that you had to lose your horn in the process.

I remember the blood-clots that had hung from your head; it stuck to you like tar as I tenderly pulled it from your skin. You shook like a newborn baby as I worked, your throat constricted as you kept yourself from crying, too afraid to utter a sound.

From that point on, I did what you could not, persevere. I fought to earn every piece of coin I could while you dwindled. No longer were you the man who dragged me from the wasteland, you had become lazy — a worthless waste of resources like the rest of our race.

We were not lucky.

When the monarchy launched their re-education initiative, I heard the rhythmic pounding of bells throughout the city. They had strolled across the ghetto, reclaiming children for integration into Arkadian society. Red ran through the streets as mothers cried while fathers died to hold onto their children. Adorned with obsidian armour from head-to-toe, the guards made their way through the encampment. Eventually, their march ceased outside of our tent.

"Father," I whispered, "What are we going to do?"

You ignored me.

"Father, what are we going to do?"

Metal latched onto my shoulders as I was pulled into the street.

"Father!"

You stayed where you were. You allowed the Arkadians to save me.

We were not lucky.

Did you know where the nobility brought the reclaimed children, did you care? Have I faded into obscurity within your mind? Do you even remember my name? No, you were one of the many homeless that lined the newly paved streets of Shantytown.

I'm not like you, I persevered because I was strong. Through re-education, I learned about the greatness of Arkadia. Hours would go by while the priests corrected the barbarous beliefs you taught me. I fought against their teachings at first, but after a few lashings, I learned. To have freedom is to have power, and power is granted to those who were worthy. So I made myself worthy.

I enlisted into the military, training my body for months so I could persevere. Eventually, I was placed into the front-line, fighting my way through swarms of invaders that attempted to desecrate our glorious kingdom. It was not difficult to make them bleed, to puncture their flesh and to feel their blood drip along my fingers. I was worthy, and I earned my power.

Now look at me father, I'm the captain of the guard. I live lavishly off protecting this country from the scum of society. The malcontents no longer escape the monarchy's grasp because I work to capture them. Not only that, but I have dragged you from the streets. Never will you be forced to lie upon the mounds of shit that litter Shantytown. I am not a victim, I am powerful, and I have earned my freedom.

But I set Baheri Redfern free.

He was a savage like all the others, filthy, rancid, useless and lethargic. Baheri was just like you and me. All of us are victims, aren't we? The thought broke me, I could not comprehend the reality. It was as if a splinter had lodged itself within my mind, cracking open the years of denial that had helped me persevere. Father, I felt like a broken child once again. The Arkadians destroyed us, and I helped them succeed.

We were not lucky.

The nobility was infuriated with me, they stripped me of my rank before dropping me into jail. At first, I only felt darkness, then a chill crept through my flesh and dug deep into my bones. The silence was endless, similar to the wasteland after the disaster. I wrapped my hands around my waist and waited. The guards would infrequently come to my cell to hand me my food. It took some hard work, but I managed to convince them to let me write this letter to you.

I'm sorry father, I wish I were better than I was. To be able to persevere against torment like how you once had.

Unfortunately, I am a coward, a failure that foolishly bought the lies of the Arkadians because the truth was too hard to bear. I want to believe that I was capable of at least providing a comfortable home for you in your old age.

I'm not sure what punishment I will receive from the Arkadians. The nobility could torture me, keep me imprisoned, kill me or even cut off my horn like yours. I hope I will be able to see you once again, but I'm doubtful. Know this, I would give anything to change the past so that I could see you once again. I love you. I'll miss you. I'm sorry.

We were not lucky.

Lotar