Evan ducked out of sight with a swish. Sure enough, the hour just before dawn offered a glimpse of how the people at the bottom really lived.
At the same time, Evan was curious: did Atris still have people who truly lived at the bottom?
The sky was a dark blue-green. The sun had yet to rise, and the dim path looked difficult to navigate.
The grandfather and grandson walked slowly. The old man wore simple clothes woven from the gray plant fibers characteristic of the region. They were uncomfortable, but extremely hard-wearing.
The child was dressed a little better. By the standards of the past, his clothes might have passed for Mid Hive attire. His clothes and shoes were designed primarily to keep water out.
They walked along the road, with trees all around them. Beneath the leaves, the shadows looked eerie, as though a restless spirit might drift out at any moment.
The child showed no fear at all. Clearly, he took this road often.
Ahead lay a fork. An old sign hung from a nearly rusted-through metal post. To the left was a statue garden dedicated to the Emperor and the heroes of Atris; to the right, a path led to the main road.
A simple "pilgrimage vehicle" stood at the junction. For a small payment, passengers could ride through the "sacred, sturdy statue garden, completely enclosed by four walls without a single gate."
"I'm not going there. There's nothing there." The child's voice rang out, clearer than the morning birdsong.
"There's nothing there because Lord Evan's icon stands guard over it. I'm telling you, without Lord Evan, that place would be crawling with vicious monsters and xenos. You wouldn't even know what killed you."
"That was before. There's nothing there now, so why give him offerings?