Refugee Characters Novels & Stories

Midday, we came across the first sign of life we’d seen in days: a small camp of refugees huddled around a makeshift fire. There were about a dozen of them—men, women, and even a couple of kids—looking ragged and worn, their clothes tattered and their faces gaunt with hunger. They looked up as we approached, their eyes filled with a mix of suspicion and desperation. Ben held up a hand in a gesture of peace, and we stopped a few feet away from the group. “We’re just passing through,” he said, his voice calm but firm. “We heard about a settlement called New Haven. Do you know anything about it?”

A sharp, resonant crack echoed across the plaza. From the edges of the crowd, the children of Moonrise stepped forward. They came from the orphanages, the training rings, and the refugee camps. Lyra stood among them, her indigo tunic bright against the firelight. They formed a wide, loose circle around the Great Hearth, joining hands. A young boy, one of the refugees who had arrived starving just weeks prior, looked nervously at Lyra. She squeezed his hand and offered a radiant, encouraging smile. He took a deep breath and looked toward the fire.

That guy was clearly a vindictive person. … Meanwhile, Vance cursed as he fled. He could not accept this indignity. At the thought of their arrogance, he wished he could cut them into pieces. “I vow to take revenge!” Every city was currently on high alert, and people like them were all categorized as refugees. He was very unhappy with this title, but everyone insisted on calling them that. Everyone was dressed differently and spoke with different accents, so the refugees were easily identifiable. Fortunately, Vance and his family were rich enough to book an entire inn or they could never stay in one as refugees.

Moonfall could not absorb them all and other packs were reluctant to take them in. Luna coordinated with human and supernatural governments to find settlements. Most refugees integrated successfully and were grateful for the chance at new lives. But a faction refused to adapt. They were traumatised and angry and they blamed our family for not saving their dimension sooner. Their leader was a woman named Kira. She was tall and fierce with scars that told stories of survival. She requested a meeting with Ross and me two months after the refugees arrived. "Thank you for seeing us," Kira began though her tone suggested she was not particularly thankful.

Fear was spreading. And now twenty more lives stood outside the walls. Waiting. Hoping. One of the older refugees finally stepped forward. His movements looked slow from exhaustion. "We don't want trouble." His voice cracked slightly. "We only need shelter." Silence followed. Because shelter required food. Food required resources. Resources required sacrifices. The math was simple. The consequences weren't. Kael studied the group carefully. Many could barely stand. Several children clung to their parents. One elderly woman appeared close to collapsing.

Darryl was a little stunned. Tanya continued with a complicated expression. "Throughout our journey, I saw a lot of refugees and most of them from the World Universe. They were with their families too. Those poor things." Woo! Darryl took a deep breath and clenched his fists discreetly—he felt horrible. Yang Jian had invaded the World Universe for his personal gains. But, unfortunately, in the end, the ordinary folks were the ones who suffered. Darryl could not drag the matter any longer. He had to gather the Westrington Army quickly to defend against Yang Jian.

Owen patted Joan on the shoulder just as Nathan did to him to strengthen him when he was feeling vulnerable and doubting himself. "Never mind, forget it! You'd better help me build a tent over there! Looks like the number of refugees is increasing." "Yes, sir!" *

She hesitated only a breath before taking it. The path down wound through pine and stone. As they neared the camp at the valley floor, the sound reached them: crying, wailing, low moans of pain. Refugees huddled by the stream, their faces smeared with soot. Wolves moved among them, handing water skins, binding wounds, but the air bristled with unease. The moment Serenya stepped into view, a hush fell. Heads turned. Eyes narrowed. Mothers pulled children closer. One man spat into the dirt, his glare burning hotter than the embers he’d fled.

The sun was beating down mercilessly. Two hundred refugees stood before us. They looked terrified. They were holding bowls of rice gruel, their only meal of the day. "You're insane," Ashren whispered to me. "Elara, look at them. That man has one leg. That woman is holding a baby. Vane’s men are mages with solar-powered assault rifles. We have a week to turn this into a fighting force?" "We don't need them to be stronger than Vane," I whispered back, watching the corporal try to organize a line. "We need them to be smarter."

"Guards, throw all these filthy refugees out. If any resists, kill them on spot." "Yes , sir!" The guards forcefully dragged the refugees away. They beat up the ones who refused to go. They kicked a pregnant woman, causing her to miscarriage. It caused a huge commotion. But the guards showed no pity to the crying woman who now lost her baby. They continue to drag her away as she bleed. Daemon arrived and saw the scene. "How bold of you to treat the refugees like trash! Do you know what crime you have committed!?" Daemon was angry. Mighell stood by his side.