October 13, 2027.

Day 119 after the disaster.

As dawn broke, the fog clung stubbornly to the village. The air was thick like porridge that wouldn't dissolve, pressing down on rooftops and courtyard walls, erasing half the outlines of the houses. Sounds couldn't travel far; a cough from the courtyard was muffled, dissipating before it reached ten meters.

There was no smoke from cooking fires. At this hour, smoke from the stoves would usually mix with the fog and rise, but today, the village was eerily silent, with only the fog moving.