Late at night, a single moon hung in the sky, its pale light struggling to break through the sickly clouds overhead. Those clouds never cleared—like an ancient curse clinging to the world itself, smothering not just the sky, but every lingering trace of warmth or hope.
Adyr walked slowly through the streets.
Crushed cars lined the roads, left abandoned where their drivers had lost control—most likely after collapsing at the wheel while watching the broadcast. Whether they'd fainted or died, it didn't matter. The result was the same.
The houses weren't dark. Lights burned inside many of them. From some, the sounds of wailing could be heard—people mourning their dead. From others, there was only silence. A silence heavier than grief.
Streets weren't truly empty either.
