Pontrola

The sun has not been seen in 113 years. The factories still run. The trains still arrive. The dead does not always stay buried. Welcome to the world of Pontrola, civilization survived the end of daylight by turning its cities into machines. The smokestacks pierce an endless ceiling of clouds. Electric streetlights flicker beside ancient runes. Trains carry workers through districts where rain falls black, corporations sell artificial warmth, and the desperate trade memories for a few minutes of genuine magic. The world is not dead. It is exhausted. And something above the clouds is still breathing.