As time flowed slowly through this world, doubts began to take root in human hearts.
As gray cities sprang up like mushrooms after rain beneath smoke-shrouded skies, their towering spires cast dark, ugly shadows, robbing people of their longing for sunshine, spring blossoms, and green fields.
When they learned that the earth had been stripped of her splendid mantle, leaving only scars and devastation, poets could no longer sing her praises. All they could do was capture those distorted visions through the already clouded eyes of their souls.
As these grim realities surged over them like a tide, humanity's once-innocent hopes burst like bubbles, dissipating into the endless void.
In the vast stretch of sea between the Orkney Islands and the Shetland Islands, a nearly untouched island stood in silence, as though guarding some ancient secret. Now, a dilapidated, rust-streaked sailing boat slowly approached, carrying three unexpected visitors.
The boat eased ashore, and the three men disembarked in turn. Selwyn looked around at the low peaks rising across the island. Their summits were unusually rounded, as though carefully sculpted, displaying an unnaturally symmetrical beauty. He could not help asking skeptically, "Mr. Fawley, you've had us drifting around these waters for days. Was it all to find this island?"
"What exactly is this place? How could such a large island, so close to the Orkney Islands, have remained undiscovered?" Selwyn pressed. "Did that mysterious organization give you this information, too?"
Suddenly, Selwyn seemed to remember something. His brow furrowed. "Wait, aren't we missing someone? Where's that lunatic Yaxley?"
Henry Fawley held a yellowed sheet of parchment, carefully checking their route against it. At Selwyn's question, he raised his head and looked at him with a slight frown.
"Mr. Yaxley will join us shortly," Henry Fawley explained. "I sent him to prepare