There's a marked difference between the carefree Thea I knew outside of Aperion and the one now, and her words only serve to reinforce the fact that she's entirely unhappy about being back home. She's also remarkably quiet for someone who's always chatting about this and that.

I don't speak either, not wanting to intrude. But that doesn't mean I'm not sad about it, and I wonder if there's something I can do to help her.

Releasing a deep sigh, I turn my attention to the road, taking in our surroundings.

Now that we're out of the popular area, there are fewer and fewer people walking around. Every now and then, I see carriages being drawn around by something akin to a horse, but with the body of a human.

The suns climb up the sky, hitting their highest point and suggesting we've been walking for a while. Yet the capital is still nowhere near. The tall towers remain a dot on the horizon, and the more we venture out of the previous town, the more derelict the buildings by the side of the road look.

There are houses, but they're in poor shape. They are made of thin brown wood, and they all seem to be a similar size—a one-bedroom. The design is the same for the entire row, and that makes me wonder if these were not built by the state—otherwise, who would go for the exact model?

People go about their day, working on their gardens or drying their clothes in their yards. The families aren't small, certainly too big for a one-bedroom, but it quickly becomes clear this intermediary area isn't particularly well-off.

Isn't it hypocritical that a godly realm would have such poverty? When one thinks of deities, there's a rather romanticized version of perfection—not only are they powerful, but they are also wise and well-intended.

The evidence in front of me speaks of the opposite. The treatment of s’Aperiotes as the scourge of society makes it even more clear that nothing is perfect here.

Despite Thea's assurances that this is a meritocracy, I don't see it. How could it be when s’Aperiotes are never even given a chance? The upper echelons intermarry and preserve their wealth, powers, and status, creating new gods and new Supremes, while the others are stuck in a continuous cycle of suffering.

It's. Not. Fair.

Maybe as a human, I'd gotten used to life being unfair from the moment I was born. Everyone knows there's no such thing as a utopia of fairness. Yet humans still hope for one—they still cling to the belief that one day, that could be achievable. But how could that be when gods themselves ascribe to discrimination and unfairness?