Peak
Doron felt like there was an endless sea of people around him, more than he’d ever seen in his life. Villagers continued to stream in towards the city from the regions nearby, quickly forming a grave problem with law and order.
The food in the city was limited, so the villagers had to find ways to feed themselves. Almost every day there were some corpses being carried out of the refugee camps. In such harsh conditions, Doron waited another two weeks before it was his turn.
"Listen up! Across you is the divine kingdom of the Lord, Ilmater. Listen to the valiant spirits and petitioners when you enter…" A bishop was stood upon a platform, a large gate radiating golden light beside him. The church ordered the refugees into a line, having them make their way to the gates.
‘Behind that gate is endless fertile soil, free from plagues and disaster…’ Doron looked at the people ahead of him and the golden gate, eyes brimming with hope and longing. Finally, it was his turn.