VERTLET - The Utopic Tale

-The Rise of The Prince -

Beyond Vertlet, and the entire Zivhan desert, a thousand heard the news, and ten thousand told.

The prince was taken over by all the cataclysm, now cold, deep, desperate.

The state of denial makes any heart cold.

Leaves were never blown to their destination again; thousands of trees were cut in their war against grieving in the end.

All the weight of sadness and guilt falls on the frustration of failure, Vertlet was united, but not one with his former king.

The skies faded, and the lightning was never conjured ever again, nor did they cut the red skyes drowned in pink clouds.

And James Arlo, the Prince, ordered that all trees that were once curved to cease from existing.

The leaves of fire were never going to be seen by the next generations.

And the Prince hovered over his entire kingdom, carrying all the misunderstood legacy.

The kingdom where all the other thousands of people raised their hands high, hailing the rise of the pride in the grasslands.

All those raised hands that almost touched or red from the sky received the traces of lightning emitted by their king.

Now, they had received all hope and peace together from the king of Vertlet, peace that came silently and hope that came with belief.

Vertlet, land of millions of thousands, where the inhabitants were solid and humble. From the beaches and the Qfist river to the forest of once dark desires.

Land where 3,000 years went by, and all life was still running at the speed of a day on the grasp of the immeasurable powers of the King of Vertlet.

The ascendant, who will never forget the pain of loss, but will never know fear.

Thanks for reading Vertlet! Sincerely, the author.