Diary Entry 032 — Date: Last Known 08-9-2098
We have successfully established our first enclave.
Built from scratch over just a few days, the team is buzzing with excitement — and relief.
Luckily, we came across metal debris from a sunken ship offshore.
Though most of the submerged sections were rusted beyond use, we managed to salvage sturdy sheets and supports from the upper decks of what must have once been a grand cruise ship.
This salvage has been a godsend, allowing us to reinforce our camp and keep the smaller predators at bay.
Our chosen island sits at the heart of a time rift.
One half of the island teems with creatures from the late Cretaceous era —
while the other half belongs to the giants of the pre-Ice Age period.
Thus far, the dinosaurs seem content to stay on their warmer side of the island, avoiding the colder reaches of the Ice Age zone.
The peak of the island's solitary mountain remains snow-capped, preserving the cold climate just enough to keep the creatures divided.
For survival, we've focused on the Ice Age zone —
finding a variety of edible fruits and hardy crops that will sustain us for the foreseeable future.
We still hope this enclave will be a temporary home —
a waystation until we can find a path back to our own time.
But exploration has already revealed unsettling truths.
In the Cretaceous sector, we discovered signs of a lost civilization — remnants of structures, bones, tools.
Proof that we were not the first to stumble into this fractured place.
Worse still, we found her.
The creature we have come to call Rex —
a massive tyrannosaur who rules her domain with brutal efficiency.
We have already lost three members of our group to her.
For now, the spiked wooden palisades we've constructed seem to deter her from approaching the enclave.
But we all fear it is only a matter of time.
Sooner or later, we will have to venture beyond our walls for food, water, or supplies —
and when we do...
She will be waiting.
Until next time,
Harris Blake
After waking up the next day, Julian went straight back to reading the journal he had become obsessed with.
He tried going through the other books scattered around the room, but quickly realized they offered far less useful information.
Most of them were filled with grim stories, bitter accounts of life inside the so-called enclaves.
In contrast, Harris's journal was different.
It was methodical, focused, and full of hard-earned lessons that painted a clearer picture of their strange new world.
From everything Julian had gathered so far, he was finally starting to piece together the most important parts of their existence here.
They were still on Earth.
At least, that was what most survivors believed.
Some theories suggested they had been brought here after a catastrophic explosion during a time travel experiment in the year 2098.
Others argued that an even greater event, sometime far in the future, might have caused this disaster.
Regardless of when or how it began, the result remained the same.
Earth had been shattered, its pieces scattered into something unrecognizable.
The explosion had caused a timeslip across certain regions, merging different eras together and creating isolated islands that floated inside a vast, endless ocean.
Yet the ocean itself was not truly real.
Those who tried to sail across it quickly discovered the truth.
Instead of reaching new lands, they were thrown through hidden rifts and transported to entirely different islands without warning.
One recorded group had built a sturdy boat and bravely ventured into the distance, only to be found stranded days later on a distant island.
There were countless islands now, far too many for anyone to map or categorize completely.
Across this fractured world, survivors built enclaves where they could, clinging to whatever safety they managed to carve out.
However, the rift had its own laws.
It was not just chaotic or random.
The rift somehow maintained a balance, detecting the amount of life on each island and reacting if it grew too large.
If the population on an island exceeded an unknown limit, the rift would violently intervene — either splitting the land itself or scattering the people across different islands in a brutal correction.
Harris had experienced this firsthand.
After gathering nearly two hundred survivors into a thriving enclave, the rift had triggered without warning.
The entire settlement had been torn apart.
Families had been separated, and his wife had been lost, her fate left uncertain.
Over time, the survivors learned caution through bitter experience.
With newly developed technology to stabilize the local rifts, enclaves began carefully cataloging the islands they discovered.
They gave each one a name, based on its climate, its resources, and its overall danger level.
Expansion became a delicate science.
Harris, one of the earliest pioneers, managed to establish four secondary enclaves linked to his main hub.
Each one was kept small, with no more than thirty people allowed per location.
Any more than that, and the rift would react once again.
Always violently.
Always without mercy.
This limitation made it incredibly difficult to grow as a society.
The survivors were forced to build fortified structures just to keep out the massive predators that roamed each island.
Every day was a struggle, not only against beasts but also against other humans.
Pirates and bandits thrived among the islands, surviving solely by raiding other enclaves for their food and supplies.
There were also the rogues — former enclave members who had either been exiled or willingly chosen a life of crime and scavenging.
These rogues and bandits posed an added constant threat to the stability and safety of the enclaves.
Their presence forced the inhabitants to be ever-vigilant, always prepared to defend their territory and resources.
Despite all these overwhelming challenges, the people of the enclaves managed to develop the land enough to live relatively comfortably.
Close-knit communities formed, bound together by cooperation and the shared need to survive against the chaos.
They worked tirelessly to overcome the harsh conditions caused by the time slips and the constant dangers lurking beyond their walls.
As Julian continued to read, another thought settled heavily in his mind — one that seemed to tie all of it together.
There was a fifth point to this strange existence, one that had changed human life in ways he hadn't fully appreciated before.
The discovery of new technologies and artifacts had provided the enclaves with invaluable knowledge.
These were not tools Harris and his team had back when they first arrived.
The technology available now was something far more advanced, beyond even what he had described.
Among these discoveries were tools that not only stabilized time slips but also allowed some people to tame and control the beasts that lived within them.
Harris's wife had found the most important artifact of all — the time gate batons.
These batons were critical, devices capable of opening and stabilizing space rifts. They required rare materials and a great deal of skill to create, but once built, they allowed enclaves to establish safe gateways between islands.
Unfortunately, not only the enclaves possessed this knowledge. Some bandit groups had also learned to craft these batons, making it dangerous to stay alone and isolated, just as Julian and his group had been before they were rescued.
Reading all this, Julian felt a deep, genuine wave of gratitude toward Emma Blake and her team. If they had been found by anyone else, the outcome might have been far worse.
He closed the journal just as a loud knock echoed through the room.
Another day had nearly passed.
It was time for dinner.
This time, the meal they were given was nothing like the one they had enjoyed before.
A platter of cold gruel was handed to each of them without ceremony.
"Guess we can't expect a great meal like yesterday again..." Charlie said, picking up his portion with a miserable look.
"Did you not read the books, kid?" Michael grunted while collecting his own meal.
"They already have so much to deal with. We should be grateful we're even being fed."
"Just needs a few spices," Geo muttered under his breath, clearly annoyed.
"Even this would taste better if they didn't treat it like cattle feed."
Julian offered a tired smile and grabbed his spoon.
"Let's just eat," he said, forcing down the first mouthful with a grimace.
"We only have one more day of enjoying our rest."
The others dug in as well, and for a few minutes, there was no more talking. Only the quiet scraping of spoons against bowls, and the heavy thoughts none of them dared to speak out loud.