The ebony streets are pristine. No one can see the sheen of dust and grime against the midnight black that make up the concrete. It's perhaps the most beautiful thing about this city - of bones and marrow, of blood and secrets. The fog rolls slowly against the streets - it should be busy tonight but it isn't. The people are scared. They don't know of what, not openly, but it's there in the shadows...

You see, it's a city of secrets. There is something wrong with this city, a population of a thousand thousand, and everyone knows it. They don't want to talk about - instead they focus their eyes on other things, like business, partying, or busying themselves with their nightly activities. They know, unconsciously - when you stare at the Abyss, sometimes... something looks back.

In this city, everyone has a secret. No business rises without a criminal element. No one gets far without dipping their hands in the darkness, even if the politicians always talk about working to lower the crime rate. But even for it's mundane secrets, there is always more behind the streets.

The sky never brightens more than a dull grey. The lighthouse shines, but no one sees the keeper. Legend says he doesn't even exist - maybe it's automated. That would explain why sometimes the light goes out, and ships crash into the rocks - a watery graveyard indeed. People talk about leaving - escaping this city, and the feel and element it has. Only a fortunate few seem to - the leave seems so sudden, and they never write back. Maybe they never left.