Phantoms of Hope @darius-r3x
The world was changing -- of that there was no doubt. Milena could see it in the very sunrise. In the way her people milled about the District and went off to their daily duties, before returning back. They were growing acclimated to this place---everyone was. But that had been the very point of it, had it not? To become a part of something that would heighten all of their chances at survival?
And just as it would have been formerly uncommon for the Bone Monarch to take such frequent council with their advisors, now it was an almost daily occurrence. Not because it was necessary, but because it wasn’t.
“So you’re saying,” Milena’s words were measured as she looked her cousin in the eye across the long table, “three dozen Lower Caste have petitioned to come here? To leave the safety of the Territory for... for what?” For this place and whatever strange phantom of hope it offered?