My grandfather came to the City when it was just tents and huts. He traveled the Pilgrim Road on foot, all the way across the Panama Ravine with his entire family and was the only survivor by the end. He never talked about the journey much, not until his last years. Honestly, it helped give me perspective. I never knew the City as he did. I've only ever known the walls as a project, and watching those last stones be put into place made it feel like we were invincible. Now, I write this journal entry from a bunker hundreds of feet below the streets. There is a battle raging outside the City walls, but I can feel it reverberating through the stone. Every time the lights flicker, I wonder, "Is this it?" The feeds say the aliens are attacking from six directions at once. I don't know if the walls will hold, if the Risen protecting us will stand. I don't know if I will see tomorrow. I just know the Traveler is here, and we are safe in its shadow. They promised that this was the Last Safe City. We've all sacrificed too much to give up on that dream. We must survive.