In the Darkest Corners

The cities once crowned with the elegance of centuries lay broken, skeletal remains of a Europe that had fallen to ruin. Stone cathedrals, once echoing with hymns, stood hollow and cracked, their spires toppled like decaying teeth. Cobblestone streets had become rivers of ash, slick with blood and littered with the remnants of a shattered civilization—twisted metal, charred wood, and the hollow eyes of those who had lost everything.

A global conflict had scorched the earth, unraveling the delicate fabric of society. Borders dissolved, alliances crumbled, and what had once been the cradle of art, philosophy, and culture devolved into lawless wastelands. In this new, unforgiving dark age, survival of the fittest became the only law, and mercy was a forgotten word whispered only by the dying.

The crumbling cities were battlegrounds where desperate tribes fought over dwindling resources. They scavenged the remains of a bygone era—old weapons, tattered clothing, canned food long past its prime. In the shadows of broken skyscrapers and bombed-out fortresses, feral gangs waged war against each other, their faces hardened by hunger and cruelty. The air stank of smoke and decay, the horizon perpetually bruised by the fires of war.

Once-proud monuments lay defiled, symbols of a world that no longer existed. The Eiffel Tower had collapsed into a heap of twisted iron; the great domes of St. Peter’s Basilica were shattered and hollow, echoing only with the howls of the wind. Nature, indifferent to human suffering, began to reclaim the ruins. Vines clawed at the ruins, and wild animals prowled the streets that once belonged to kings and merchants.

Hope was a dangerous illusion, and trust could mean death. The few survivors who clung to life did so with a ferocity that bordered on madness, their eyes dulled by loss but sharpened by the instinct to endure. They were hunters, scavengers, and ghosts, moving through a dying world that offered no promise of tomorrow.

Yet in the darkest corners, where the firelight barely reached, whispers of resistance stirred. A belief—fragile and half-forgotten—that perhaps, after all the death, all the loss, something new might rise from the ashes. But for now, the world was ruled by the strong, the ruthless, and the desperate, and the only certainty was that the night was long, and the dawn was far away.