- Vol. 04
- Chapter 05
These days darkness grows, a cold fog that never rises, so dense we move slowly groping like the newly blind unable to distinguish walls from road each step a gamble without map or compass or any light to guide us.
Worse yet, this thickened air is not like fog, mere moisture, watery clouds sunk to earth, but more like smoke and ash from some great burning. It sears and stings our lungs and eyes, and takes our breath away. Until we move, choking, blind, alone, hands reaching out, urgent, open, in hope to find each other even in this dark.