In the graveyard, the old caretaker once again lifted his head and glanced at the nearby guard's cottage.
He had reported the restlessness of the deceased in the mortuary to the cathedral in the form of an express message, but had still not received a response—clearly, with the entire city enshrouded in a mysterious dense fog and the sunlight eerily vanishing from the sky, the cathedral no longer had the energy to concern itself with the abnormalities within a small graveyard.
"I can only rely on myself..." the old caretaker muttered, tightening his overcoat. The leather padding and metal inserts in the lining of his coat made a slight friction noise, "This fog isn't small in scope..."
The friction and clacking sounds broke the graveyard's eerie silence as the coffins on several nearby mortuary slabs seemed to tremble weakly under the fog.
