The Kingdom Of The Desperates

Have you heard of Macheive? No? Well then, I will tell you straight away. It is a small country that never exists on maps, yet it does exist.

Moreover, it is a well-developed country like most countries does. It has the most resplendent mansions, most advanced technology and more… It sounds awesome, doesn’t it? It seems to be a nice place, right?

Well, I bet you would have changed your mind if you are one of the chosen ones whom will be burned alive. There is a special name for the chosen ones; “The Desperates”.

How did I know all these? I am a member of “The Desperates” and, this is my story.


1. ||Chapter One||

The leaves fluttered, and the breeze whipped through each of our hearts. I stared as a fair girl with blonde hair being tugged up to the altar by the guards.

She screamed and struggled when they suppressed her, cuffed her hands up and buckled her onto the altar. I bit my lip and kept staring. Her face revealed right away when the altar was lift up, facing us; her blue eyes were losing burnish and they were filling up with sorrow, her reddish cheeks were replaced by sheets of blank paper. Her soul was simply fading away when her entire body was being buckled onto the altar.

An owl flew above us as the breeze whipped across our body once again. It mumbled a high, discordant note and flew away, as if giving us a warning.

The guards pushed out a cauldron between her screams. They placed it in front of her, setting up the fire.

Tears starting to roll around her eyes at the moment when they lit the fire, I saw her trying to fight back her tears but eventually, she failed. Wails started to break out at that moment; it was the girl’s mother then her sister and her closet friends.

I knew exactly what was happening at that moment and my heart simply sunk. I felt myself shivered when they lift the altar high up and placed it on top of the cauldron.

The fire was burning brightly, as if preparing itself to receive its gift. “Karla!” Someone moaned from the crowd but obviously, it wasn’t from the quarter of the female. I turned to the male’s quarter which was on my left; and saw a middle-aged man, yelling, trying to rush out from the crowd but was hold back by the guards. Literally, he was the father of the girl, Karla.

“Karla! Karla!” He kept shouting and struggling, trying to save his dearest daughter but all he could do was actually nothing; all he could do was standing right there and witnessed the suffering of his daughter.

A few more tears dripped out from Karla’s eyes and more people joined the moaning. A man, who was known to be the ruler, walked out from the crowd to the stage from chaos. An evil smile slipped out from the right corner of his mouth when he finally reached the stage.

“Thank you for sacrificing!” He bawled, holding out his hands while the guards lowered the altar; putting it into the cauldron.I just stood there helplessly, watching Karla being engulfed entirely by the fire.
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