In a dystopian 2025, the entire world runs on slave labor.
In the deserts of New North America, we grew up together. I was the banker’s daughter with a future mapped out for me, and he was just the slave boy next door, the one my parents told me not to touch. Told me not to name.
But I did. When the world called him a number, I called him Riven.
Then the monsoons came. One kiss in our childhood treehouse changed everything. We were found out, and Riven was taken away, sold to the mine...
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In a dystopian 2025, the entire world runs on slave labor.
In the deserts of New North America, we grew up together. I was the banker’s daughter with a future mapped out for me, and he was just the slave boy next door, the one my parents told me not to touch. Told me not to name.
But I did. When the world called him a number, I called him Riven.
Then the monsoons came. One kiss in our childhood treehouse changed everything. We were found out, and Riven was taken away, sold to the mines — meant to toil, meant to be forgotten. Meant to die.
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