The Journal of David Harper

September 6th, 2031, Sanctuary of Shadows

The fog was still there, thicker than ever, clinging to the trees like a ghost. It wrapped around us as we left the mansion, Lizzie and Gracie walking close to our sides, silent and alert. Jacob's limp had worsened, his face pale and sweaty. Even Gabriel, the strange man we had met just the day before, seemed on edge, his wild eyes constantly scanning the misty woods around us.

David's hand tightened around his shotgun, his knuckles white. He hadn't slept at all last night, the screams of the Zeeks still echoing in his mind. We thought the mansion was safe—sacred ground, Gabriel had said—but the Zeeks had breached the old doors like they weren't even there. It was a miracle we escaped. Or maybe it wasn't a miracle. Maybe it was something else. Something darker.

Martha glanced at David, her brow furrowed. "You're thinking too much," she said softly, trying to offer a smile. "God's still with us."

David didn't reply, his gaze drifting toward the fog-covered distance, where the mist seemed endless. His faith, once so strong, now flickered like a dying flame. Yet somewhere deep within, the words of Romans echoed: "There is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus..." He tried to hold on to that truth, even as everything else unraveled.

"Where are we going, Gabriel?" Martha asked, her voice steady, though I could hear the tension underneath.

"The city," Gabriel rasped, his voice strained from the infection. "There's a place... a refuge. People like you... good people. They've found a way to live with the Zeeks."

David turned sharply at that. "Live with them? Coexist with those things?"

Gabriel gave a weary smile. "It's not what you think. They've... changed."

By midday, the fog had thinned, revealing the outlines of broken buildings ahead. The city—once a thriving place—now lay in ruins. Cars were abandoned on the streets, some overturned, others burned out. Windows were shattered, and strange symbols were painted on the walls in angry reds and blacks. The city was death itself, but Gabriel called it something else.

"Welcome to Haven," he muttered, leading us through the rubble. "Home to the survivors." But as we moved deeper into the city, the unease only grew. The quiet was unnatural, thick, as though the very air was holding its breath.

Then, from the shadows, figures emerged—people. Not Zeeks, but something about them was... off. Their eyes gleamed, not with fear or despair, but with a strange, unsettling calm. "These are the ones I told you about," Gabriel whispered. "They've adapted."

A man stepped forward, clean-shaven and serene, his posture exuding confidence. He smiled warmly, but David gripped his shotgun tighter. There was something wrong with that smile.

"I'm Ethan. Welcome to Haven," the man said smoothly. David, tense and suspicious, didn't waste time on pleasantries. "We're not staying," he said flatly. "We just need supplies."

Ethan's smile didn't falter, but his eyes darkened slightly. "Everyone says that when they first arrive." His gaze drifted to Martha's cross, gleaming on her chest. "But this place... it changes people."

Later that night, as we rested in an old building that used to be a school, Jacob's condition worsened. He lay on an old mattress, sweat pouring down his face as Martha sat beside him, reading softly from the Bible: "He will cover you with His feathers, and under His wings, you will find refuge..." David, standing by the window, watched the strange people of Haven move through the streets. The Zeeks didn't seem to notice them.

"How is that possible?" he whispered. "What are they?"

Suddenly, Ethan appeared in the doorway, his smile unnervingly calm. "They're learning," he said. "The Zeeks are evolving. They're becoming something... more." His tone shifted, becoming more serious.

"This is no accident. God has allowed Satan to test humanity, to bring judgment upon a world that has turned away from Him. The Zeeks' transformation isn't just random mutation—it's supernatural, a consequence of humanity's sins."

David's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?" he demanded, tightening his grip on his shotgun.

Ethan's expression grew grave. "There's a prophecy, something I've seen glimpses of in the scriptures and whispered among the remnants of faithless communities. When people abandon God and let sin thrive without repentance, it weakens the barriers between the realms of good and evil. Humanity has rejected its moral foundation, and that has opened the door for this rapid transformation. God allowed it—to let mankind witness the consequences of faithlessness and arrogance."

The room felt colder, the weight of Ethan's words thickening the air. David struggled to process it. "So, you're saying all of this—" he motioned to the misty darkness outside "—is our fault?"

"In part," Ethan replied, his voice almost sympathetic. "But there's more." He lowered his voice, his gaze flickering with an eerie calm. "It's not only spiritual. Think of the labs, the experiments, the twisted projects that humans set in motion to play god. Long before the outbreak, there were men trying to unlock forbidden knowledge, altering DNA, creating hybrids in secret laboratories. Scientists engineered viruses meant to enhance human cognition, neural networks, cellular regeneration. At first, they thought they were simply advancing medicine. But in truth, they were sowing seeds of darkness. God allowed these experiments, knowing they would serve as part of the test—a lesson for those who refused to trust in Him."

David's heart pounded. "So these... mutations? This intelligence?" he asked, glancing at the Zeek leader in the doorway. "They're a product of both—sin and science?"

Ethan nodded. "The curse upon humankind for abandoning faith, and the recklessness of human ambition to tamper with life itself. The Zeeks adapted through what the scientists called 'accelerated neural adaptation'—but that alone couldn't explain their sudden awareness. It was Satan's influence and the darkness given access to them through humanity's sins. What was once meant to be mindless destruction has now become a controlled army, born from humanity's own blind pride and disregard for the divine."

David clenched his fists, anger simmering beneath his skin. "So now you think we should just bow down to you? To Satan?" he asked, his voice a low growl.

Ethan's smile was cold and calculating. "It's not a matter of choice. The door was opened, and we stepped through. The Zeeks will only continue to evolve, and those who refuse to surrender will become part of this new order. This... is the future."

David squared his shoulders, glancing at Ethan, then at the Zeek leader. "You may have your reasons, but you don't know the strength that's with us," he said, his voice low but steady. A memory surfaced, familiar words, bold and unyielding: "A mighty fortress is our God, a bulwark never failing..." It echoed through him, stirring something strong and defiant, a whisper of the unbreakable strength he had once known.

Ethan's calm gaze flickered with curiosity. "Fortresses fall, David. Look around you." He motioned to the shattered cityscape, to the crumbling buildings. "Everything fades, everyone breaks. But here, we are building something lasting."

David took a step closer, gripping his shotgun as he leveled his gaze. "Not every fortress crumbles. This is just stone and steel," he gestured around him. "But God... He's the fortress I trust. He doesn't fall, even when everything else does."

The Zeek leader narrowed his eyes. "This faith you cling to is only another kind of wall, one that will shatter when tested."

David'sjaw clenched, and he squared his shoulders, a fierce, unshakable lightreturning to his eyes. "You don't know the fortress I'm talking about. 'Onearth is not his equal,'" he quoted, letting the words land like a warning. Theold hymn rang true even in this darkened world, and as he looked at the eeriecalm of Haven, he knew: they may have been surrounded by enemies, but theirrefuge was unbreachable.