Arafed view of a street with a light post and a foggy street

The dawn light filters through the hazy mist, casting an eerie glow over the alien landscape. I stand motionless, the wet air damp on my skin as the world emerges from the shadows. Silhouettes of abandoned buildings materialize like ghost ships drifting up from the gloom. The rising sun is a muted orange disk behind the dense fog, its light drained of warmth. A thin mist hangs in the empty streets, reducing the hollowed out cars to abstract shapes in the muted light. It's as if the Earth is holding its breath, waiting for the veil to lift and reveal the full extent of devastation. I walk slowly, listening to the muffled silence, my footsteps echoing faintly as if I'm the last soul left. The buildings around me are tombs, their windows like hollow eyes staring sightlessly. What tragedy unfolded within their walls? The mist swirls around me, concealing and revealing the landscape in ephemeral snippets. For a moment, I think I see a human silhouette, but it's only a deformed stop sign emerging from the haze. I'm alone here in the half-light, surrounded by the remnants of the dead world. As the sun rises higher, the sky brightens from purple to sickly yellow, yet the fog persists. The air tastes stale, devoid of any scent other than decay. I stand witness to the dawn of this new and terrible age, shrouded in the ashen mist that cloaks the graveyard left behind. The Earth is transformed, and I am here to bear witness.