Fifty-two. The city sealed by the cunning fog

Ding—Ding—Ding—

The distant church bells echoed drearily in the murky evening skies.

Children loudly crying were carried back home by their parents, shops closed their wooden doors one after another, and curtains behind the windows were drawn by the panic-stricken populace.

It wasn't long before pedestrians vanished from the streets, leaving behind only the disarray, the echoing sound of bells, and the government officials' shouts that were hard to decipher.

Almost every window lit up with bright, strong light, illuminating all of Belfast.

Yet, this bustling nightscape was suppressed by unease and panic.

The entire city fell silent except for the church bells and shouts that resonated everywhere.

...

Rodest Port, shrouded in a drizzle.

Landon withdrew his gaze that had been fixed upon Belfast, and along the increasingly obscure coastline, his eyes landed on a lighthouse among the rocks.