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Chronicles of a fated tragedy
Acy’s Letters Strike Again

Acy’s Letters Strike Again

“It’s been 500 years since you left. You said you’d never leave. It seems that was just another lie that came out of your mouth. Now I wonder if all those years we spent were nothing to you. It does not matter. I’m happier now. Freed from a thorn; those agonizing memories we shared. You," Kie saw scribbles on the word ‘you’ and scowled, “I hope this letter finds you well. I hope that now you know that my life is better without you, that your disappearance made it better. Don't you dare return!”

Kie stared intensely at the dried teardrops on the end of the letter and laughed. “Stubborn as usual—besides, who said I would come back,” he whispered.

He held the letter as he reflected on his past, "How disturbing," he mumbled to himself. Then slowly and gently he placed the letter in the fire and watched it succumb to flames.

He didn’t write a response back. He didn’t need to. Reading it was enough to shock the soldiers surrounding him. Placing it gently into the fire was a tenderness no soldier had seen. He did too much already; that was enough.

The writer, Acy, thought otherwise, for they eagerly awaited a reply. Yearly they’d sit down; and express their emotions on paper, hoping they’d be enough to convince him to come back.

Kie walked past the flames and with the soldiers he marched straight ahead. “A thorn,” He thought to himself, “I’m no thorn.”

He didn’t find it possible for him to be a thorn. It made no sense. If he was flourishing without Acy, how could have he been the thorn? Instead wouldn’t have Acy been the real thorn? After all, if he had stayed with them, he’d still be stuck in poverty.

The soldiers were not used to these letters arriving; were rightfully shocked to see their commander act this way. There was something so off-setting and terrifying to them about his face being filled with such emotion. Who was it that had the ability to make their commanders face like that?

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

—---

While Kie wouldn’t ever admit it, he was strikingly beautiful. His dark hair glistened in the sun and swayed from side to side as he marched ahead with his head high. Perchance that’s why Acy fell so deeply in love. The rest of the capital wouldn't blame them, everyone was wide-aware of the beauty that Kie carried.

Acy was likewise without a doubt gorgeous. You can’t tell such facts anymore. Considering that their oyster eyes were as puffy as cotton. Their swollen, bagging eyelids were darker than the sea and their frosty hair was as filthy as could be. Their most alluring feature was their vibrant faint tears. Their faint tears filled their neighbor's ears for the past 500 years. Soft, pained cries from an angel like them, all they could do was move others to tears.

——

Kie walked into the palace and knelt under the emperor.

“May the sun bless the emperor who blessed me with this invitation” Kie breathed.

Kie knew this wasn’t a blessing, he didn’t feel blessed, rather he felt cursed. He felt asphyxiated and sickened in the presence of the emperor. They never changed, the emperors, they were always as greedy.

The emperor grinned, “There’s no need to be so formal, Kie”

Kie in silence arose. “May I be enlightened with the reason for this visit? Has something occurred at the northern frontiers?”

The emperor laughed once more. “Straight to the point as usual. I seem to believe you don’t like being here.”

It’s as if the emperor can read his mind. He doesn’t want to be there, he wants to be somewhere else, with someone else. He cringes at the thought, ashamed of what he thought.

silence plugged the room

“..Down west in that poverty land, everyone has been crying.”

“What do you wish for me to do?” Kie asked

“I order you to stop those tears. Lesta has always been a bothersome land. It’ll be more bothersome if others hear about their theatrics,” the emperor growled.

Kie nodded and left the palace. He was aware that he had to return to his old land. Where the one he—he can’t remember. He didn’t think much about it. Why would he have to?