There was no way anybody could see through the clouded path ahead, but yet their advance through the debris was fuelled by the will to survive, strengthened by the fear of impending doom in the darkness behind. The dust in the air acted as a veil, shrouding the light coming from somewhere miles away, but no matter how small that hope may be, the civilians fought as hard as they could to find a sanctuary among the chaos and pandemonium. The houses at the sides of the roads let out an eerie and ghostly aura, with its tattered windows and broken doors. They looked ready to collapse anytime, destroying its surrounding area, along with any living souls in it.
The only emotion that took control of the people was fear, and relied on basic instincts to run as far as possible. Adrenaline enabled them to overcome their limits; there was only one priority in their current predicament - to survive.
The destruction caused by the numerous bombings and sieges was beyond devastation. Fatalities have clocked above 6 digits, nobody knew where their friends and family were, and all that they had prided and cherished was lost. It was a permanent scar in the history of Ireland, for generations of civilians and soldiers have been affected. Many generations of historical artefacts have been lost, lost with the wind. Food was scarce, and people were on the verge of death.
Who long will it take to recover its previous prosperity? Will the pioneers of the country be able to control the situation?
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