The crowd erupts into motion and cries.
Crowd: It’s them! Get to your boats!
Everyone scatters, running to get as far away from the docks and the fallen cardinal as they can.
Parent: Take my hand, sweetie!
Child: Mommy!
Crowd: Hide! Hide!
Crowd: Oh, Goddess… RUN!
With the lighthouses flickering, the festive warm glow of the island has been overtaken by the misty haze of the fog rolling into Grand Physalia. In the midst of the chaos Vanna leans forward and tugs Garth close to her chest in a hug.
Vanna: Garth… I’m so sorry. Thank you.
She grabs Pavel by the neck of his costume and bolts for the boat.
Pavel: MOM?
By now everyone has cleared away from the Golden Feronia in favor of seeking shelter from the encroaching fog, so when Vanna runs the throttle and peels away from the shore so fast that the gangplank shatters behind them, the way is clear for a fast getaway.
Pavel: Mom? What are you-- AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
The night wind whips over the deck as they lead a herd of ships with their own lighting systems away from the island. Compared to the glowing multicolored thing Grand Physalia had been just that morning, or even a few hours before, the island is a shadowy thing with the dark silhouette of the shrine’s skeletal spire standing stark against the fog that clouds up around it. Vanna’s hair whips around her face and she spares the island just a glance as she focuses on putting distance between them. Her thoughts race. What the hell…? WHAT THE HELL?! Why NOW? Pavel leans over the railing of the ship and holds the lantern Garth had given him aloft, staring back at the fleeing ships and the shadowy island.
Pavel: Mom… that FOG. Is that… THEM?
