The cracked and faded orange plastic of the seat was mostly attached to a battered frame of bent metal tubes. It rested on a plank raised, just a little, by four concrete blocks, and, even had it been the smoothest surface, all four legs would have failed to meet it all at once. This seat seemed likely enough to fall apart in a light breeze, let alone if someone risked actually sitting on it, yet it had power.

The room itself was grim, windowless and filthy. The detritus of the ages had gathered in drifts and the rustling sound of vermin scavenging through it provided an ever-present background susurrus. The walls were brick, crumbling as much from their initial construction as with the passage of the years. Here and there, they were stained with rusty dribbles, where ancient pipework had spilled precious resources before hasty repairs could be effected.

“A god? Really?”

Amused scorn laced her voice, for the being sprawled before her seemed weaker than her youngest child, who hid in the shadows behind her.