Entry Zero – "History is a luxury of the living. I write this not for memory, but for warning."
– From Rafe's Journal
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The end began without sirens.
There were no nukes, no invasions, no last broadcasts from fallen presidents.
No moment where the world collectively held its breath.
It happened in fragments.
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Sixteen months before the Fall, something crashed into the Indian Ocean — a cluster of obsidian-black meteors, later named Shards.
They didn't explode. They just embedded deep within the ground.
The ground around that region became a dark colors.
Then The first changes were in the animals.
Then the oceans turned quiet.
Then the skies above the impact zones stopped responding to satellites.
Week 1: A rash of violent psychosis cases.
Week 2: Cities like Mumbai, Manila, and Sydney went dark.
Week 3: China and the U.S. both attempted quarantines. Neither worked.
Week 5: "Bite flu" trended for two hours before the net blacked out.
Week 6: Global silence.
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Then people became something else entirely. Zombies. The infected were never "zombies" in the cinematic sense.
They didn't moan.
They didn't limp.
They ran.
They climbed.
They tore through steel like cardboard if their hunger peaked.
And they mutated fast — depending on where the host had been exposed.
Blood was only one vector.
Air, saliva, decay… even prolonged exposure to dead zones could make the people infected.
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But that wasn't the worst part.
The Shards didn't just infect.
They awakened.
A few survivors — maybe 1 in 10,000 — didn't turn.
Instead, they Stirred.
Their bodies changed.
Their perception shifted.
Their instincts deepened.
But most died during the Stirring.
Others went mad.
A small number emerged… changed, becoming something entirely not human nor zombies but something in between.
These people were feared even more than the infected.
Some lit fires without fuel.
Some moved before the eye could blink.
Some heard heartbeats through walls.
And some — like Rafe — survived with something small, quiet, and terrifyingly precise.
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The governments fell before they could even know what happened.Power grids collapsed.
Satellites went blind.
Nature turned still.The world stopped.
Now, every city is a tomb.
Every sound a warning.
And every survivor learns quickly:
Noise is death.
Trust is a lie.
And silence… is survival.
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"I don't know if anyone will read this. Maybe someday."
"Maybe some broken kid will find this journal, in some ruined place, and think I was brave."
"But I wasn't."
"I was just quieter than the dead."
— Rafe L. Morrow
Last living voice of World-311… for now.