The body still lay there by morning, half-buried in the sand where it had finally collapsed. A bloated, black mass of rotting flesh and twisted limbs. Flies buzzed around it, but no one moved to chase them off. No one even looked away.
They gathered in silence, the early sun casting long shadows behind them. Each of them stared at the thing as if it might suddenly breathe again.
"It followed us," Egwene said at last, her voice hoarse. "All the way across the water."
Avery stepped closer, holding his crowbar tight in his grip though the creature hadn't moved for hours. "I thought they couldn't swim."
"Maybe it didn't swim," Lilian offered, eyes narrowed. "Maybe it floated. Or drifted. Either way, it got here."
"No," Leo said, the youngest of the group. He was pale, his eyes locked on the monster's face—or what remained of it. "It didn't just get here. It came here. On purpose."
Silence again. He stepped forward, crouched low, and pointed to the creature's arm. The skin there was mottled, stretched over unnatural muscle. But beneath the grime, faded symbols were just barely visible—tattoos.
Military.
"I think this used to be a person," he whispered.
That changed everything. A few gasped. Others muttered prayers. Because if this one was once human, that meant something worse than monsters was happening. It meant transformation. Mutation. Evolution.
"What if there are others like it?" Leo continued, standing now. "What if they're learning? Watching? What if they can climb?"
His gaze turned toward the trees surrounding their base—tall, thick, and close. Silent sentinels. Hiding places. Launching points.
"What if they wait until night and leap from up there?"
Fear spread through the group like a storm wind. The island had always felt like sanctuary, a place beyond the monsters. But now it felt small. Exposed. False.
They argued for hours—leave the island, stay and fortify, build rafts, risk the sea. But in the end, they chose action.
They would destroy their cover before it could be used against them.
Every tree within three miles of the camp would be cut down. No exceptions.
By midday, the axes swung. The sound of steel biting into bark echoed through the air. Trees that had stood for decades began to fall, one after another, sending flocks of birds screaming into the sky. The survivors worked in silence, driven not by strategy, but fear. The scent of sap mixed with sweat and the distant rot of the dead monster.
By nightfall, the first perimeter had been cleared. But with every tree they removed, they felt more exposed. The shadows grew longer. The dark came quicker.
And somewhere, just beyond the reach of their torches, the island no longer felt emptyThe forest around the base was gone now. In its place stood jagged stumps and scorched roots, a dead zone stretching for miles—a clear line of sight in every direction. It gave the illusion of control
Around the fire, the remaining members of the group huddled, hollow-eyed and tense.
one week later
"We're out of antibiotics," Aurora said, her voice steady despite the fatigue in her face. "We've got maybe two days' worth of canned food left. And no clean gauze. If anyone gets wounded..."
"Then we need to go back," Theron cut in. "We all knew this day would come."
Everyone fell silent. They'd been dreading this. Leaving the island now meant walking back into chaos, into the unknown. But there was no other option.
After hours of arguing and weighing risks, they made the call: only four would go.
The Chosen Four:
Aurora – the healer, because they'd need someone who knew what was worth taking.
Theron – the fighter, experienced with weapons and unafraid to make quick decisions.
Lucian – , fast, observant. He'd proven himself in silence and speed.
Egwene – a quiet strategist. She had a way of seeing paths others didn't.
The rest would stay behind, fortifying the base and protecting what they had built. The forest might be gone, but their walls still stood. They couldn't afford to leave it unguarded.
The boat touched the mainland with a heavy scrape. The town was quieter than they remembered. It didn't feel safer—just emptier. Buildings stood like broken teeth. The air smelled of ash and mildew. They moved quickly, sweeping through pharmacies, abandoned stores, and homes stripped down to bones.
They were tired, carrying packs already half full, when they heard it.
Crying.
It came from a school. A small, half-collapsed building with vines climbing the walls and shattered windows. They followed the sound cautiously, weapons raised.
Inside, they found them—children. At least fifteen of them, between the ages of six and twelve, huddled together behind overturned desks. A few adults stood protectively in front, holding makeshift weapons—metal rods, broken chair legs. They were dirty, gaunt, but alive.
Egwene dropped her weapon first.
"We're not here to hurt you."
The adults didn't move at first. One, a wiry woman with sharp eyes and a bleeding arm, finally stepped forward. "You're the first people we've seen in weeks who weren't trying to eat us."
The survivors had run out of places to hide, running out of hope. They hadn't seen a safe zone, hadn't eaten anything fresh in days.
"We have a place," Lucian said softly. "It's safe. Isolated. Fortified. You'll be safe there."
Some of the children cried—not out of fear, but relief. The adults hesitated, but they saw it in the group's eyes: exhaustion, but not cruelty. Hope, buried beneath the layers of survival.
The journey back was slow, tense. They rationed everything, sleeping in turns. At night, they heard howls. Something followed them. But it never showed itself.
When the island finally appeared again on the horizon, someone whispered, "It's real." Like they hadn't quite believed it until then.
When they stepped onto the beach, the others came running, shock on their faces. They had only expected four. But the four had become twenty.
And with them came new hope—and new problems.
They called it The Return. Twenty new feet on the sand. Twenty new mouths to feed. Twenty new reasons to keep going.
The original group stood frozen for a moment, watching the children and adults step off the boat, blinking at the sunlight. For a second, it felt like a dream—like seeing a piece of the old world drift back into their broken one.
Then reality set in.
The camp wasn't built for this many. Not yet.
But it would be.
---
The First Adjustments
Aurora immediately moved into triage mode, setting up a larger infirmary using an woods gotten from trees they had cut down and whatever tarps they could find. She enlisted one of the new adults—a former nurse named Clara—to help treat minor injuries and check for infections or bites. Trust had to be earned, but need came first.
Theron started weapons training for anyone old enough to hold a bat. "Monsters don't care how old you are," he said. "You freeze, you die."
Lucian led patrols, showing some of the teens how to move through the underbrush silently. His quiet strength made him someone the younger kids started to look up to.
Egwene coordinated everything else—sleeping arrangements, food rationing, expanding the perimeter. Her mind never stopped moving, planning, solving.
They cleared out part of the base that has already turned into a mini forest. They built tents from sails and ropes. They constructed watchtowers from the bones of fallen trees. At night, the base glowed with dim lights and distant laughter.
It was no longer just a camp.
It was becoming a community.
---
The First Council
After five days, they gathered everyone. The fire flickered in the center of the circle, casting long shadows across faces both new and old.
"We can't just survive anymore," Egwene said. "We need to build something."
They began making plans—not just for food and water, but for a city.
They mapped out zones:
A central fire and meeting space.
Sleeping quarters organized by age group.
A communal kitchen, where they would try to grow food.
the wall already has it defences so they don't need any
A school space, even if it was just a tent and a chalkboard for now. "The world may be ending," aurora said, "but the kids still need to learn."
The place got a name—Haven.
No longer just a temporary shelter. Haven was going to stand.
---
New Roles and Renewed Purpose
The original survivors stepped into leadership roles, not because they wanted to, but because others needed them to.
Egwene became the planner. Aurora, the little to know nurse. Theron, the protector. Lucian, the scout.
And the children… slowly, they smiled again.
They planted seeds in plastic crates. They painted rocks. They drew on walls with charcoal. They made up games using sticks and makeshift balls.
They made the island feel alive.
But at the edge of camp, the original four still kept watch—because they knew that the monsters hadn't stopped evolving.
And safety, real safety, was still something they had to fight for.
---