Ten years ago, the people of Port De Mona experienced an eerie phenomenon that would become known as The Night of the Mists. A dense, unnatural fog rolled into the harbor without warning, thick as a wall and unlike any mist the locals had ever seen. Visibility was so poor that ships struggled to navigate, and several vessels crashed into the docks or collided with each other in the confusion. The harbor was filled with the sounds of creaking wood, shouted orders, and the dull thud of hulls striking one another.

As the fog settled over the bay, an unsettling hush fell across the waters. Sailors who were still awake reported hearing a haunting melody—ethereal, almost otherworldly—that seemed to emanate from everywhere and nowhere at once, weaving through the mist like a living thing. Those who heard it described feeling an inexplicable chill, as though the very air had grown colder around them. Some swore they saw shadowy figures moving through the fog, just beyond the reach of sight, vanishing when approached.

When the mist finally cleared with the dawn, the strangeness did not end. The following morning, sailors and dockworkers discovered strange symbols etched into the hulls of several ships—symbols resembling runes or glyphs, alien and unrecognizable to any who saw them. The carvings were deep and precise, as if made with a steady hand and great intent. The townsfolk could not decipher their meaning, and despite consulting local scholars and scribes, the mystery remained.

These symbols were quickly attributed to the Mournful Mariner—the enigmatic figure said to haunt the waters near Port De Mona. Some believed the carvings were a warning or a message, though to whom and about what, no one could say. Others whispered that the Mariner was marking the ships for some unknown fate, that those who bore the runes would be cursed or drawn to the deep.

The incident left a lasting impression on the superstitious sailors of Port De Mona, and to this day, they remain wary of any mists that roll in unbidden, especially on quiet, moonless nights. Few dare to speak openly of the Mariner’s supposed warning, and those who do often cast a wary glance toward the sea, as if fearing what might still be lurking beneath the waves.