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"Was it a nuclear explosion. How far does the radiation spread? Are we safe here?" another passenger questioned aloud, sparking a flurry of worried conversations about the potential health impacts.

The ship\'s captain, recognizing the need for calm, interjected over the intercom, "Ladies and gentlemen, please, return to your cabins. We are in contact with authorities and ensuring your safety. Stay indoors and await further instructions."

Amidst the confusion, a volunteer working with the ship\'s crew moved through the crowd, offering words of comfort and distributing blankets. "We\'re together in this. Let\'s focus on the present and keep everyone safe and supported," she said, guiding a small child back to his parents.

As the ships steered further away from the smoldering coastline, the reality of their exodus and the uncertainty of their future stared at every heart aboard.

Fear and dread filled the air, thick as the bitter smoke that rose in plumes behind them.

Little did they realize that the storm was just beginning, signaling not just a catastrophic change for Frostholm but potentially for the entire world.

The aftermath of the nuclear catastrophe and the mysterious explosion of white light had unleashed a wave of confusion that rippled across the globe.

News channels worldwide interrupted regular programming, their screens split between experts speculating and live footage of the unprecedented disaster.

"In breaking news, a massive explosion in Frostholm has sparked fears of a possible nuclear conflict," one anchor announced, her voice tense as the channel flashed images of the mushroom cloud over icy terrains.

Another news broadcast showed a roundtable of experts debating intensely. "We\'re not just talking about a regional crisis; the implications of this could be global. The environmental fallout alone could be catastrophic," an environmental scientist explained, stressing the potential for a triggered climate apocalypse.

On social media, videos of the blinding explosion went viral, with captions like, "Is this the beginning of World War Three?" and "End of days?" spreading like wildfire, fueling panic and speculation across countless feeds.

Meanwhile, another broadcast focused on the international reaction: "Governments around the world are on high alert, with emergency meetings being convened as we speak. The full impact of the incident remains unclear, but the global response has been swift and concerned."

Back on the ships, passengers huddled around any device that could receive broadcasts, their faces reflecting the flickering light of the screens, absorbing each new piece of information with a mix of fear and disbelief.

"The Frostholm incident has triggered significant seismic activity, and with the region located at the North Pole, we\'re looking at a potential crisis in ice melt and sea-level rise," another expert warned on a different channel, tying the immediate disaster to longer-term environmental threats.

Amidst the chaos, the captain of the ship tried to provide reassurance over the intercom, "Please remain calm and stay in your cabins. We are in constant communication with authorities and will keep you informed of all developments."

As the ships moved further into the open sea, away from the immediate danger but not from its consequences, the people aboard faced not just the prospect of displacement but a future shrouded in the uncertainty of a world bracing for the new age.

_______

12:00 am, 22nd January!

Greece!

Tucked away in the maze streets of Athens, "Neptune\'s Dive" was a bar that wore its rugged charm proudly.

Crack...

The door creaked on its hinges as patrons slipped into the dusky interior, a blend of shadows and flickering dim neon lights.

Walls plastered with old band posters and graffiti, a sticky floor dotted with crushed cigarette butts, and the pervasive smell of weed mixed with the sharp scent of cheap liquor gave the dive its unmistakable character.

The patrons of Neptune\'s Dive were a motley crew, drawn in by the promise of anonymity and the lure of a place that felt removed from the rigors of the outside world.

The bar itself, a long stretch of scarred polished wood, was crowded with people trying to drown their anxieties in the depths of glass after glass.

"♫♪♫♪♫♪♫♪~"

"♫♪♪♫♫♫~"

In the corner, the bar\'s signature attraction tonight was a man with a lyre, his appearance striking—a modern-day bard.

His white shirt was left casually unbuttoned at the top, revealing a hint of a well-toned chest, a subtle nod to the classical robes that might have graced his form in another era.

His fingers danced over the lyre strings with practiced ease, each pluck resonating with a rich, sonorous sound that broke through the smoky haze of the bar

Twang...twang

He began with a song that seemed to capture the essence of the night—a melody that wove together strands of longing and anticipation.

His voice, warm and clear, rose above the murmur of the crowd:

"Under the veil of night\'s embrace,

Shadows dance with tender grace.

Hearts entwined in time\'s own lace,

Moments stolen in this dimly lit place.

Rivers flow beneath moonlit skies,

Carrying whispers and lovers\' sighs.

A song of old, where the new sunrise,

Brings hope where once were goodbyes."

As the final verse lingered in the air, blending seamlessly into the ambiance of "Neptune\'s Dive," the man\'s fingers slowed, caressing the last few notes into a lingering silence.

The audience, momentarily caught up in the web of his music, gave a collective sigh of contentment.

With the echoes of his song still hanging in the air, he looked around at the assembled crowd, his gaze intense yet inviting.

Then, with a knowing smile, he leaned forward slightly as if sharing a secret with his audience.

His voice, now imbued with a hint of mystery and promise, carried over the clinking of glasses as he declared, "Welcome to the new Age!"

Clap! Clap! Clap!

"Bravo! What a song!" shouted the old man with white hair from his corner, his voice booming above the rest.