The sky above was still a dusty purple, framed by the towering spires of white stone. But the peaceful atmosphere from yesterday was completely gone.
In the center of the courtyard sat a heavy iron cage, large enough to hold dozens of people. Inside were the refugees—the forty-seven humans Kyle, Elara, and Yua had pulled out of the dark sectors before the hell dump collapsed. They were huddled together, filthy, bruised, and shivering in the mountain chill.
Standing on a raised marble platform above the cage was Grand Duchess Seraphina Vance.
She wore a fresh dress of deep forest green, her staff held loosely in her right hand. Elara stood a few paces behind her mother, her arms crossed tight over her chest, a furious look on her face.
"Kyle!"
One of the refugees inside the cage—a middle-aged man with a bandaged arm named Marcus—spotted him and pressed against the iron bars. "Kyle, tell them! Tell them we aren't monsters! We just got caught in the lower zone!"
