Running.

It’s all everyone knew how to do in the Undercity. But it became more known for the children of it. Running for their lives and the risk of child slavery. Teens, children, they didn’t care who they took, as long as they could work.

You were no exception to this. You were running, crying and scared that they might catch you. You ran and ran, your legs screaming to stop, but you didn’t. You ran into an unfamiliar area, hoping to get them off your tracks. You came to what seemed like a town.

You fell.

You struggled to get up and looked up. Grass… vegetable… it was… bright here… what was this place? You wondered this as you wandered around, marveling at the pure beauty. A hand goes on your back and you panic, moving away quickly and curling up. The hand was the one of another child. They stared for a second before putting their hand out to you and offering you help. You took it and they lead you to what looked like a greenhouse. You’d only seen ones used to make shimmer.

The kid led you inside and pointed to the man sitting on a bench quietly. who was he? Why was he so important?