This is a fanfiction by InkyAtrocity4011. It is a work in progress. Feel free to correct any spelling and/or grammar mistakes I may have made.
Seven too many
Seven heroes of the Lost Cities.
Seven heroes, seven too many.
They're all gone now, aren't they?
One
One is broken
One is lost
One will never leave the frost
One will suffer
One will die
One will burn
While one survives
Broken
You're broken on the inside, I can see that. It's not something you can hide easily.
This crack right here, that's a broken heart. Broken hearts never heal.
Your hands, they are broken into pieces. Your hands have done horrible things. They have been stained with the blood of your brother. That kind of blood, it can never be washed away.
But your mind. It is shattered completely. Shattered, shattered beyond recognition. It is your mind we cannot save.
Fitz Vacker was the first to fall.
Dear Fitz, I hope you understand now. It's no use keeping your pain and grief to yourself. Oh, how I wish you had told us earlier. We could have helped you. But you let yourself break. You let yourself fall. Fitz, dear, your father and I have always been here for you. We are here for you now. Please wake up.
Lost
You're not smiling. You never smile anymore.
You used to be so happy. You used to laugh and smile and celebrate. You don't do that anymore.
There is chaos inside your mind. Every day, you wake to destruction, and every night, you go to sleep with the sound of screams echoing in your ear.
Those memories... they haunt you, still. It is those memories that caused you to become like this. Those memories erased the smile from your face and the spark from your eyes.
Linh Song was the second to fall.
Linh, how I wish I could see you be happy again. You're not yourself anymore. Where is the bright, cheerful girl I love? Where is she? I'm still hoping that the real Linh, the one that I love, is there, buried under all that grief. Or is that Linh gone forever?
Frost
If the situation was less serious, everyone would say that you look awful.
It's true. Your skin is blue and covered in a layer of frost. Your face is frozen- maybe not so much by ice as by fear.
Fear is a weapon that your mother wields quite well.
Keefe Sencen was the third to fall.
I'm keeping all this short and simple. You're not going to read this, anyways. You're dead. So here is what I have to say- I'm sorry for how I treated you. I'm sorry for not being the father you always wanted me to be. I'm sorry for not being able to stop your mother when she left you to die in the cold. I'm sorry for everything, Keefe.