The skies over the Valer Capital seemed perpetually shrouded in a thick, gray veil of haze, an unwelcome yet familiar guest to the city.
At dawn, what should have been a moment of renewal and freshness, the sun was blocked by myriad fine particles, managing only to cast mottled shadows, draping the unsympathetic cityscape in a dim and oppressive filter.
On either side of the streets, towering chimneys stood like giants, intermittently belching black smoke and white vapor that intertwined with the low-hanging haze, merging indistinguishably.
The passersby's eyes revealed resignation and concern about the air quality; their pace quick, as if searching for a temporary haven from this gray world.
The buildings along the street, obscured by the haze, became blurry—distorted versions of themselves. The mountains, naturally the city's barrier and scenic backdrop, were now barely discernible silhouettes.