The Keepers of Haven are a small, insular survivor collective occupying a deliberately limited pocket of Greenhaven. They do not seek influence, expansion, or recognition. Their existence is defined by restraint. Where other factions carve power from chaos, the Keepers survive by refusing to matter.
They believe Greenhaven endured the Fall not because it was strong, but because it was forgotten. No major evacuation routes ran through it. No industrial assets drew attention. No faction fought to claim it. The Keepers intend to preserve that accident of survival indefinitely.
Haven is not a symbol of hope to them. It is a system under constant threat of notice. Everything they do—every light masked, every path obscured, every sound dampened—is in service of remaining unseen.
The Keepers formed roughly five years after the outbreak, long after Greenhaven had emptied of its original residents. Those people fled early and never returned. The Keepers are not heirs to the district—they are caretakers who arrived too late to claim ownership and too early to see it fall.
Their founding members were practical survivors: former city engineers and utility workers who recognized intact systems, security contractors abandoned during staggered evacuations, scavengers who stumbled onto running water and stable power, and a small number of people who simply refused to leave a place that still worked.
They inherited wealth without the arrogance of entitlement. Empty mansions, functioning utilities, sealed infrastructure—these were not trophies, but liabilities. From the beginning, the Keepers understood that survival here depended not on fortifying what they had, but on convincing the city they had nothing at all.
The Keepers do not control all of Greenhaven. They occupy a deliberately compact, defensible section clustered around intact estates, a modern residential block retrofitted for communal living, and a buried utility junction that feeds power, water, and limited data access.
Their presence is almost invisible. There are no banners, no symbols, no outward signs of occupation. Overgrowth is allowed to reclaim streets and properties, trimmed only along essential sightlines and movement paths. Roads leading inward are subtly sabotaged—collapsed pavement beneath roots, fallen trees arranged to look natural, barricades disguised as ruin.
To an outsider, Greenhaven appears abandoned. That illusion is not cosmetic—it is enforced doctrine. If the illusion fails, the Keepers will abandon ground without hesitation rather than fight to preserve it.
The Keepers value silence over strength, stability over growth, routine over ambition. Their culture is one of quiet maintenance rather than progress. Days are scheduled. Movement is controlled. Noise is measured. Light is indirect and reflected rather than exposed.
Firearms exist, but their use is tightly restricted. Infected are diverted, trapped, or quietly eliminated long before they accumulate. Loud solutions are considered failures. The Keepers believe that violence draws attention—and attention is death.
They do not see themselves as saviors or rebuilders. They are not trying to restore the old world. They are preserving a fragile equilibrium, knowing it can never expand without breaking.
The Keepers are governed by a Council of Stewards, each responsible for a critical function necessary to keep Haven alive but unnoticed.
Infrastructure Stewards maintain power, water, and internal systems.
Watch Stewards oversee surveillance, traps, and concealed observation points.
Supply Stewards manage rationing, storage, and long-term sustainability.
External Stewards handle rare trade and controlled contact with the outside world.
Leadership is pragmatic and rotational. No one rules permanently. Authority is functional, not symbolic. The greatest crime within Haven is not betrayal—it is drawing attention.
To the rest of New Hope City, the Keepers of Haven are uncertain things.
A rumor scavengers whisper about after seeing lights vanish.
A ghost story told by traders who swear streets moved overnight.
A myth of untouched homes and running water that no one can ever find twice.
Some believe Greenhaven is haunted.
Others think it never survived at all.
The Keepers prefer both explanations.