The morning sun poured into the shabby kitchen, illuminating the room. At the dining table sat a nearly elderly woman.
"Bennan, please let me try talking to the deployment supervisor again. There has to be another temporary job they can give you. You were a lead software developer back in NQSC, for spells' sake!"
The man who had previously been crossing the room stopped at the coat rack and turned back to look at her.
"It'll be alright, leave the poor man alone, he's got a lot of work to do as it is. It's not like there's anything else I can really do here, there's no electricity."
Putting his jacket on while reaching for the door handle, he turned back and said,
"Besides, the Queen's thralls will be with us the whole time, nothing bad is going to happen."
Bennan stepped out into the stale, cold air, the door closing behind him, sealing the warmth of the kitchen inside. He turned back, looking beyond all the temporary residences at the towering obsidian palace, dwarfed only slightly by the volcanoes encircling it.
Even from a distance, it was still surreal for him to see it every day. He then turned back to the large wall that stretched on for miles and began to follow it.
They had moved to Ravenheart only a week ago, after an increase in nightmare gates opening in their district.
They were ordered to evacuate through a portal opened by the Sovereign herself, along with tens of thousands of others, to the fabled capital of Clan Song—or at least the very edge of it. But for many, living in its shadow was good enough.
"Thank the Gods,"
He muttered to himself.
"Only another week of building this damned road to Godgrave."
He had been given the role of a manual laborer, and though he was happy to be one of the lucky ones to be transported to the safety of a Sovereign's domain, he was still excited to finish his work so he could move to the permanent housing closer to the volcanoes, where it was warm.
He rubbed his blistered hands together and blew warm air between them. It was snowing as he walked, the flakes slowly collecting on his shaggy auburn hair.
Slowly, the other temporary houses were roused to life as their doors opened, revealing the tired faces of other refugees headed to work, and soon he found himself swept up in a stream of fellow workers all headed to the citadel gates to receive their work orders.
Looking up, he watched the snow fall in silence as he walked. Godgrave… what an unsettling name, he thought.