Journal Entry 229 — Dr. E. Verral

I saw her eyes this morning—glasslike, vacant, staring through me as if I were already gone. Subject #12. Only eleven years old. She had been humming yesterday. Today she tried to claw her own skin off.

I tell myself this is necessary. That without these experiments, without pushing into the Dark, we would never uncover the truth of what’s happening to us. But each time we awaken another, each time we tear open that membrane between what was and what is becoming, I see less of them return. Or maybe they don’t return at all—just something else wearing their faces.

The Others were never supposed to be this unstable. The theory was sound. But the Dark… it’s not just a side effect. It’s sentient, in some way I don’t yet understand. It twists them. It watches us. And I’m not sure it can be shut out again.

And still—I continue. We all do. Time is running out. The flare events are increasing in both frequency and range. More and more are manifesting without contact, without triggers. If we don’t find a way to shut it down, to sever the neural lattice that connects them to the source, it won’t matter what’s left of the world. Humanity is already slipping from our grasp, reshaping itself into something other. Something I fear we won’t recognize when we’re done.

But I’ll keep going. I have to. There’s no one else left who understands how close we are.