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Chapter Text

Clarke leaned against the post of the compound, the breeze brushing her face. Behind her, Raven was kneeling by a stack of materials, double-checking their inventory with a furrowed brow. The schematics for the compound sat on a table nearby, the edges fluttering slightly in the wind.

“How long do you think this is going to take?” Clarke asked, crossing her arms as her gaze shifted toward the tents scattered across the clearing. Small fires flickered between them, where some of the extra Eligius prisoners sat huddled in small groups, talking quietly or eating.

Raven paused, glancing up at her. “If everything goes according to plan, about a year,” she said. “Maybe less if we get everyone to pitch in.”

“A year,” Clarke repeated, shaking her head. “They’re going to be living in tents for a year.”

Raven stood, brushing her hands off on her pants, and followed Clarke’s gaze toward the makeshift campsite. “It’s not ideal,” she admitted. “But it’s not the worst we’ve dealt with.”

“It’s cramped. It’s cold at night. It’s… temporary,” Clarke said, her voice heavy with frustration. “These people have been through enough. They shouldn’t have to wait that long for a real home.”

Raven smirked, though there was no malice in it. “You think a year is bad? Try surviving in Alpha Station. Remember what that was like? We had people living in corridors, sleeping on metal floors until we patched up the parts of the station that got smashed during landing.”

Clarke turned to look at her, brows raised.

“Seriously,” Raven continued. “A couple of months, everyone was crammed into a space that felt smaller than this. You think tents are bad? At least they’ve got air and open skies.”

Clarke sighed. “It just doesn’t feel like enough.”

“It never does,” Raven replied, her tone softening. She stepped closer, her voice taking on a pragmatic edge. “Look, Clarke, the Grounders? They lived in caves. Ruins. Whatever they could find to survive. Small spaces, close quarters—that’s normal for them. And the Eligius prisoners? They’ve been living on a damn prison ship for years. Trust me, a tent and a campfire? That’s an upgrade.”

Clarke turned her attention back to the tents, watching as a young boy, no older than ten, handed a plate of food to one of the older prisoners. There was laughter coming from another group, soft but genuine. For a moment, Clarke allowed herself to see it through Raven’s eyes: not just a temporary struggle, but a step toward something better.

“You think they’ll hold out that long?” Clarke asked.

“They have so far,” Raven said simply. “Besides, it’s not just about waiting. Everyone’s going to have to help. The compound won’t build itself.”

Clarke gave a small, reluctant smile. “That’s what worries me. Getting everyone to agree on anything around here feels impossible.”

Raven chuckled, nudging Clarke’s shoulder. “You’ll figure it out. You always do.”

Clarke let out a heavy sigh, running a hand through her hair. “We don’t even know how much of this moon we’ve explored,” she said, her voice laced with frustration. “There’s a reason we’re building this compound, Raven. A protected space. Somewhere safe.”

Raven leaned against the table of schematics, watching Clarke with a careful gaze. “I know,” she said quietly. “But we’re doing the best we can with what we have.”

Clarke nodded absently but didn’t respond right away. Her eyes drifted to the campsite where Madi sat with Jordan, her face lit by the firelight. Madi was laughing at something Jordan had said, but there was a weariness to her movements that Clarke couldn’t ignore. She looked older than her years—too old.

“I just want Madi to have a proper childhood,” Clarke admitted finally, her voice breaking slightly. “Before it’s too late.”

Raven didn’t say anything at first, letting the words hang in the air between them. She understood, of course. They all wanted better for the ones they cared about. But in this world—on this moon—“better” was always relative.

“She deserves that,” Raven said after a moment, her tone softer than usual. “But Clarke, look at her. She’s laughing. She’s still holding on to something good. You made that happen.”

Clarke shook her head, her shoulders slumping. “It’s not enough. I want her to have more than this. More than tents, danger, and wondering if the ground beneath her feet is going to turn into something we can’t handle.”

Raven straightened up, walking over to Clarke and putting a hand on her shoulder. “You’re building more than a compound, Clarke. You’re building a home—for all of us, but especially for her. She sees that. And if she doesn’t now, she will.”

Clarke’s throat tightened, and she nodded, even though doubt still clawed at the edges of her mind. She wanted to believe that. She wanted to believe that this compound, this effort, would mean something in the end.

But as her gaze flicked back to the anomaly in the distance, a cold fear settled in her chest. What if she was wrong? What if the dangers out there were bigger than the walls they were building—or bigger than any of them could face?

“I just hope it’s enough,” Clarke whispered, more to herself than to Raven.

“It will be,” Raven said firmly. “Because you’ll make sure it is.” Then, with a teasing smile, she added, “And if it’s not, we’ll just figure it out like we always do. Crisis by crisis.”

Clarke chuckled faintly at that, though the weight on her chest remained. She watched Madi again for a moment, her laugh cutting through the night like a small spark of hope.

“Yeah,” Clarke said quietly. “Crisis by crisis.”

Clarke’s thoughts were interrupted by the sound of her name being called. She turned to see Gabriel walking toward her with hurried steps, followed closely by Bellamy, Echo, Octavia, and… someone new.

The girl with them looked young—barely out of her teens. Her dark hair was tied back, and her piercing eyes darted around as though she wasn’t sure where she was or if she should trust anyone. Clarke’s stomach dropped. They had only been gone a few hours, and now they were back with a stranger?

“Clarke,” Gabriel said as he approached, his face serious, almost concerned. “We need to talk.”

Her heart leapt at the sight of Bellamy, but she quickly buried the urge to run to him, knowing Echo was standing just a step behind. Instead, she crossed her arms and focused on the group as a whole. “Are you all okay?” she asked, scanning their faces for any sign of injury or trouble.

“We’re fine,” Bellamy said, his voice steady. He met her gaze briefly, and for a moment, the world felt less chaotic. But then he looked away, his expression guarded.

Gabriel stepped forward, glancing at the girl behind him. “Someone walked through the anomaly,” he said, his voice measured. “This girl. She just… appeared.”

Clarke’s eyes widened, and she glanced at the anomaly’s faint glow in the distance. “What? Who is she?”

Octavia stepped closer, her gaze fixed on the girl as if searching for answers she couldn’t quite grasp. “Her name is Hope,” she said, the words slow and uncertain. “I… I know her. I recognize her. But I don’t know why.”

Clarke frowned, her confusion growing. “You know her? How?”

Octavia shook her head, her frustration evident. “I don’t know. It’s like… I can feel that I know her, but I can’t remember anything.”

Hope’s eyes darted between Octavia and the others, her body tense. “I—I don’t remember anything, either,” she said, her voice trembling slightly. “But I feel like I know you, too.”

Clarke’s gaze shifted to Gabriel, seeking clarification. “How is this possible?”

“I don’t know,” Gabriel admitted, running a hand through his hair. “The anomaly… it’s done this before. Messed with time, with memories. But someone walking through it like this? This is new.”

“Then where did she come from?” Clarke pressed, her voice edged with concern.

“We don’t know,” Gabriel said, his tone grim. “She could be from anywhere—or any when.”

Octavia stepped closer to Hope, her expression softening despite the confusion in her eyes. “You really don’t remember anything?”

Hope shook her head. “I… I remember bits and pieces. Flashes. But it’s like trying to grab smoke. It doesn’t stay.”

Clarke glanced at Bellamy, whose jaw was tight as he stood silently, his eyes darting between the girl and the anomaly. Echo remained close to him, her posture protective, but her face betrayed nothing of what she might be thinking.

“What are we supposed to do with her?” Clarke asked, her voice quiet but firm.

Gabriel shrugged, his shoulders heavy with exhaustion. “For now? We give her food, water, and a place to sleep. Maybe she’ll remember more. Maybe she won’t.”

Clarke sighed, rubbing her temples. Another mystery. Another question without an answer. And as much as she wanted to focus on the compound and Madi, she couldn’t ignore the weight of this new arrival.

Clarke turned to Octavia, the confusion and concern evident in her voice. “Did you ever remember anything after you walked through the anomaly and came back out? Even now?”

Octavia shook her head, her expression grim. “Nothing. Just fragments that don’t make sense. This moon…” She glanced at the anomaly’s faint glow in the distance, then back to Hope. “It keeps getting weirder and weirder.”

Before Clarke could respond, loud voices and hurried footsteps interrupted their conversation. Miller appeared, flanked by two of Wonkru’s guards, their faces tense.

“Clarke,” Miller called, his voice urgent. “We’ve got a situation. Some of our people are fighting with the Prime followers again.”

Clarke let out an exasperated sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Of course they are. Show me.”

As she started walking with Miller and the guards, Raven muttered under her breath, “What now?” She didn’t follow, but Clarke could feel her exasperation echoing her own.

The group arrived at the scene quickly. A small crowd had gathered near the edge of the Sanctum settlement, where several members of Wonkru were shouting angrily at a handful of Prime followers. Two men were already grappling on the ground, throwing punches, while others looked ready to jump in.

“Break it up!” Clarke yelled, her voice cutting through the chaos. When they didn’t respond immediately, she turned to the Wonkru guards. “Stop them. Now.”

The guards hesitated for only a moment before stepping in, pulling the fighters apart with practiced ease. One of the Wonkru warriors shoved a Prime follower back roughly, but Clarke shot him a warning glare, and he immediately loosened his grip.

“Enough!” Clarke shouted, stepping into the middle of the group. The crowd quieted slightly, though tension still crackled in the air. She could feel the weight of their stares—anger, frustration, distrust—all of it boiling over. Clarke took a deep breath, her voice steady but firm as she began.

“If we’re going to live together—if any of us are going to survive—we cannot keep doing this!” Her eyes scanned the crowd, locking onto Wonkru warriors, Prime followers, and anyone else who looked ready to argue. “You don’t have to like each other. You don’t even have to trust each other. But we have to find a way to work together.”

She stepped closer to the two men who had been fighting, her voice sharp as she addressed them directly. “What are you even fighting about? Some petty insult? Old grudges? It doesn’t matter. None of it matters anymore. We’re all on this moon now, and the only way any of us can make it is if we stop acting like children and start acting like a community.”

Her words seemed to hang in the air, the silence heavy. Some of the crowd looked chastened, while others avoided her gaze. She let her voice soften, though it remained resolute.

“Every time we fight each other, we’re wasting energy we don’t have. Every time we let these divisions control us, we’re making it easier for this moon—or whatever else is out there—to kill us. We need to do better. All of us.”

Miller nodded beside her, stepping in to disperse the remaining crowd. “You heard her. Go cool off before this gets worse.”

Slowly, the group began to disperse, grumbling under their breath but obeying. Clarke stayed where she was, watching until the area was clear. She sighed deeply, running a hand through her hair, and turned back to Miller.

“Keep an eye on them,” she said. “I don’t want this happening again.”

Miller nodded. “Will do.”

As Clarke walked back toward the compound, she felt the weight of the day pressing down on her. Raven was waiting for her near the schematics, her arms crossed.

“Crisis by crisis, right?” Raven said, raising an eyebrow.

Clarke huffed a dry laugh. “Apparently.”

–

Clarke sat at the edge of the compound, her head resting in her handsz The events of the day had left her drained: Hope’s sudden arrival, the fight between Wonkru and the Prime followers, and the ever-present pressure to keep everyone alive and working together.

She barely noticed Raven and Bellamy approaching until Raven spoke.

“You okay?” Raven asked carefully, her tone light but concerned.

Clarke straightened immediately, brushing her hands on her pants as though she could dust off the weight on her shoulders. “I’m fine,” she said, too quickly.

Bellamy exchanged a glance with Raven. “You don’t look fine,” he said gently, stepping closer. His voice had softened in a way that made Clarke want to crumble, but she forced herself to keep her composure.

“I’m just… busy,” Clarke muttered, waving a hand toward the unfinished compound. “There’s a lot to do. We don’t have time to sit around.”

Raven frowned, crossing her arms. “Clarke, you’ve been running on fumes for weeks. You haven’t taken a break, haven’t stopped for five minutes to even think about what you’ve been through. You’re going to burn out.”

“I said I’m fine,” Clarke snapped, her voice sharper than she intended. The words hung in the air for a moment, and she sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I just… I need to keep going, okay?”

Raven tilted her head, her expression softening. “You’re keeping busy so you don’t have to think about it. About losing Abby.”

At that, Clarke stiffened, her jaw tightening. “Don’t.”

“Clarke—” Bellamy started, but she cut him off.

“I said I’m fine,” she repeated, her voice trembling slightly now. “What do you want me to do? Take a break? Stop working? Stop trying to make sure everyone else survives? Because if I stop, Bellamy, if I let myself feel all of it…” She trailed off, shaking her head. “I won’t be able to start again.”

Bellamy stepped closer, his presence calm and grounding. “You don’t have to do this alone,” he said softly. “You don’t have to carry everything. That’s why we’re here.”

Clarke turned away, staring out at the anomaly again. “I don’t know how,” she admitted quietly. “I don’t know how to let it go.”

“You don’t have to let it go,” Raven said, stepping beside her. “You just have to let us in. Even for a minute.”

Clarke’s shoulders sagged, her carefully constructed walls threatening to crumble. She took a deep breath, glancing between the two of them.

“I’ll try,” she said finally, though the words felt like a concession. “But not today. I can’t—there’s too much to do.”

Bellamy sighed but didn’t press her. “Alright. But when you’re ready… we’re here.”

Clarke pushed herself to her feet, brushing dirt off her pants as she glanced toward the settlement. “We need to meet up with Emori and Murphy,” she said, her voice firm but tired.

Raven raised an eyebrow, leaning against the edge of the table. “Last time I saw them, they were in the tavern. Murphy was probably winning at cards, and Emori was probably making sure he didn’t get punched for it.”

Clarke rolled her eyes, already striding in the direction of the tavern. “Well, it’s time they got back to work. We’ve got too much to do.”

Raven smirked, falling into step beside her. “You really think Murphy’s going to jump at the chance to work when he could be lounging with a drink in his hand?”

“No,” Clarke said, her tone clipped. “But I don’t care. He doesn’t get a pass because he’s Murphy.”

Bellamy followed close behind, his voice dry. “Good luck with that one. Murphy’s not exactly the picture of motivation.”

Clarke ignored him, her focus narrowing as they approached the tavern. The sound of laughter and muffled conversation drifted through the doors, and Clarke could already feel her frustration rising. They didn’t have time for distractions—not when there were structures to build, supplies to organize, and tensions to manage.

She pushed the door open without hesitation, stepping into the dimly lit space. Sure enough, Murphy was seated at a corner table, a cocky grin on his face as he leaned back in his chair. A small group of Prime followers and Wonkru members were gathered around, watching as he flipped a card onto the table with dramatic flair.

“Royal flush,” Murphy announced, smirking as the group groaned and reluctantly handed over their makeshift betting chips. Emori stood nearby, arms crossed but smiling, clearly amused by the whole scene.

“Murphy,” Clarke said sharply, her tone cutting through the noise.

Murphy glanced up, his smirk unfazed. “Well, if it isn’t our fearless leader. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Clarke crossed her arms, glaring at him. “We’ve got work to do. Both of you.”

Murphy raised an eyebrow, leaning back further in his chair. “Oh, come on, Clarke. I’m building morale. That’s important, right?”

“Get up,” Clarke said, not bothering to argue. 

Emori stepped forward, her expression softening the tension in the room. “Alright, alright. We’re coming.” She shot Murphy a look, one that clearly said, don’t push your luck.

As they walked back toward the palace, Clarke’s voice dropped, barely audible over the sound of their footsteps crunching against the dirt. “I need you and Emori to keep playing the Primes for a little while longer.”

Murphy, who had been trailing slightly behind, immediately perked up. “Wait, what? You’re still on about that?”

Clarke turned to face him, her expression firm. “Yes. The Prime followers are still on edge, and if they think their leaders have abandoned them—or worse, if they realize the truth—we’ll lose what little cooperation we’ve managed to scrape together. If we’re going to build this compound, we need them to be calm. That’s where you and Emori come in.”

Emori, walking beside Murphy, looked thoughtful but nodded. “I get it,” she said. “If they trust us, they’re less likely to cause problems. But how much longer are we talking, Clarke?”

“As long as it takes,” Clarke replied, her tone clipped. “Just until the compound is finished and we can establish some kind of order. Right now, we don’t have the resources or manpower to deal with another crisis.”

Murphy folded his arms, his expression skeptical. “So, let me get this straight. You want me and Emori to keep pretending to be gods to these people while you play colony-builder? What’s the endgame here, Clarke? Because I don’t see this going smoothly when the truth eventually comes out.”

“I’m not asking you to lie forever,” Clarke said, her voice softer but no less determined. “Just long enough for us to stabilize things. Once the compound is built, we’ll figure out how to handle the fallout. But if we don’t keep them calm now, there might not be an endgame.”

Murphy opened his mouth to argue, but Emori cut him off. “We’ll do it,” she said, giving him a pointed look. “For now.”

Murphy sighed, throwing his hands up in mock defeat. “Fine. But just so we’re clear, when this all blows up in our faces, I’m going to say, ‘I told you so.’”

Clarke shot him a sharp look, but there was no malice in her voice. “If it means we get through this, you can say whatever you want.”

Raven, who had been silent up until now, shook her head with a smirk. “You know, Clarke, you’ve got a talent for turning chaos into plans. Let’s just hope this one doesn’t blow up in our faces. Literally.”

Clarke exhaled slowly, her gaze shifting toward the incomplete compound in the distance. “It’s a risk,” she admitted, “but it’s one we have to take. We can’t afford to lose control now.”

As they continued walking, Murphy muttered under his breath, “Should’ve stayed at the tavern.” But he fell in line with the group, Emori at his side, ready to play their roles for just a little longer.

As Clarke, Bellamy, Raven, Murphy, and Emori walked into the palace, the air felt thick with tension. The central hall was dimly lit, its grandeur dimmed by the years of conflict and decay. Gabriel, Echo, Hope, and Octavia stood clustered near the center, their hushed conversation barely audible. Gabriel’s brow was furrowed as he gestured toward the anomaly on a map spread across the table, while Octavia seemed distracted, her eyes flickering toward Hope as though searching for answers neither of them could find.

Off to the side, Indra stood with Miller and a few Wonkru guards, their discussion low but serious. Clarke didn’t need to hear the words to know they were addressing the rising tensions between the factions. It had become a constant undercurrent, threatening to boil over at any moment.

Clarke moved toward Indra, her expression resolute. “Indra,” she called softly, drawing her attention.

Indra looked up, her sharp eyes meeting Clarke’s. “Clarke,” she acknowledged, stepping away from the guards and Miller to meet her halfway. “What is it?”

Clarke took a deep breath, glancing briefly at the others in the room before focusing on Indra. “I have a plan,” she said quietly. “It’s not perfect, but it might help ease some of the tension.”

Indra folded her arms, her expression skeptical but curious. “I’m listening.”

“For now, we need to keep the Prime followers calm,” Clarke explained, her voice steady. “The truth about the Primes will come out eventually, but until we’re ready to handle the fallout, Murphy and Emori will continue playing their roles. It’s not ideal, but it’s the only way to keep their people from spiraling into chaos.”

Indra nodded slowly. “And what about our people? Wonkru is already restless. The fight earlier was just the beginning.”

“I know,” Clarke admitted. “That’s why I need your help. Talk to them. Remind them why we need to work together—for survival, if nothing else. I’ll address them myself if I have to, but coming from you, it’ll mean more.”

Indra’s expression hardened, but there was a glimmer of understanding in her eyes. “You’re asking me to keep Wonkru in line while you manage the Prime followers.”

“I’m asking you to help me keep this fragile alliance from falling apart,” Clarke corrected gently. “Just until the compound is finished. Once we have a safe, neutral space, we can start separating groups if we need to. But for now, we have to coexist.”

Indra was quiet for a moment, studying Clarke’s face. Then, with a small nod, she said, “I’ll do what I can. But know this—if this plan fails, Wonkru will not wait. They will act.”

Clarke swallowed, nodding in return. “I understand.”

Behind them, Bellamy had approached the map where Gabriel, Echo, and Octavia stood. He glanced over the markings before addressing Clarke. “If we’re going to keep people calm, we also need to start making progress on figuring out the anomaly. Whatever Hope’s connection to it is, we can’t ignore it.”

Clarke nodded, her mind already racing. “One crisis at a time,” she murmured, echoing the phrase she had been repeating all day. “Right now, the priority is keeping people from killing each other.”

“And then?” Bellamy asked, his gaze steady.

Clarke’s eyes flickered to Hope, standing quietly beside Octavia. The girl looked lost, her gaze fixed on the floor as though searching for something only she could see. “And then we figure out what the hell is going on with this moon,” Clarke said. “Before it’s too late.”

Indra gave her a small nod before returning to Miller and the guards, her voice firm as she began issuing orders. Clarke turned back to her group, catching Murphy’s raised eyebrow and Raven’s faint smirk.

“Well,” Raven said, “looks like you’ve got the whole ‘leadership under pressure’ thing down to a science.”

Clarke shook her head. “I’m just trying to keep everyone alive.”

“Isn’t that always the plan?” Murphy muttered, but there was no real bite in his tone. Emori gave his arm a light nudge, a silent reminder to behave.

Clarke let out a slow breath, glancing around the room. The tension was palpable, the fractures in their fragile community threatening to widen. But for now, there was a plan—and that was better than nothing.

–

Clarke stood by the window of Josephine’s former bedroom, biting her lip as her gaze drifted outside. The flickering light of campfires illuminated the temporary tents where Wonkru and the Eligius prisoners were staying. Despite the exhaustion etched into their faces, there were faint sounds of laughter and quiet conversations. It was almost peaceful—if only the tension wasn’t always lurking just beneath the surface.

The room around her felt foreign, even after weeks of occupying it. The elegant furnishings and ornate decorations felt out of place in her world of survival and practicality. It was temporary, she reminded herself, just like everything else until the compound was built. Yet, as much as she tried to convince herself, the space made her uncomfortable. It wasn’t hers—it was a remnant of Josephine, a life that had been forced on her and nearly taken from her in more ways than one.

Sighing, Clarke walked over to the small wardrobe in the corner and opened it. Among the utilitarian clothing she’d managed to scavenge for herself, there was a single piece that caught her eye: a flowing, elegant nightgown made of soft fabric that shimmered faintly in the light. She hesitated for a moment before pulling it out. On the Ark, something like this would have been a luxury she could only dream of—now, it was an odd reminder of how far she’d come, and how far she still had to go.

Slipping into the gown, Clarke felt a strange mix of vulnerability and indulgence. It was impractical, yes, but for one night, she allowed herself the fleeting comfort of something soft against her skin. She glanced at herself in the mirror, brushing her fingers through her hair. She barely recognized the woman staring back at her—someone hardened by loss, grief, and survival, yet still trying to hold on to the fragments of who she used to be.

Her gaze shifted back to the window, and her thoughts wandered to Russell Lightbourne. He was still locked away in a cell, the last of the Primes. She had been avoiding him since his capture, unsure of what to do with him. The others had been dealt with—some by death, some by exile—but Russell was different. He was their leader, their symbol, even if his reign had crumbled. And now, he was her responsibility.

Clarke’s hands tightened into fists at her sides. She knew she couldn’t ignore him forever. He was still a figurehead for the Prime followers, still someone who could stir up trouble if given the chance. But what could she do with him? Executing him felt too final, too brutal, even after everything he’d done. Letting him go was out of the question. And keeping him locked up indefinitely wasn’t a sustainable solution.

Her thoughts spiraled, and she pressed her palms against the windowsill, taking a deep breath to steady herself. She had already lost so much—her mother, her home, her peace of mind. Every decision she made now felt like a gamble, with too many lives hanging in the balance.

The sound of faint voices outside drew her attention again. People were moving between the tents, silhouetted against the glow of the fires. They were waiting for her to lead, to make decisions, to solve problems. Clarke felt the familiar weight settle on her shoulders, heavier now than ever.

Russell would have to wait a little longer. For tonight, she needed to rest. Tomorrow, she would figure out what to do with him—and how to keep her fragile community from falling apart.

Clarke was startled by a knock on her door. She glanced toward it, hesitating for a moment, then grabbed a silky robe from the edge of her bed and wrapped it over her nightgown. The soft fabric fell around her like a shield, as if it could somehow hide the vulnerability she felt. “Come in,” she said, her voice steady despite her swirling thoughts.

The foggy glass doors slid open, and Bellamy stepped inside. His broad frame filled the doorway, and for a moment, Clarke caught herself holding her breath. He looked tired—just as tired as she felt—but there was a gentleness in his expression that made her chest ache.

“Clarke,” he greeted her simply, his voice low. He let the door slide shut behind him, the soft click punctuating the quiet. “How are you holding up?”

She hesitated, forcing a small, practiced smile. “I’m fine,” she said, brushing past him to sit on the edge of the bed, hoping the motion would make the lie more convincing. She busied herself with adjusting the robe, avoiding his gaze. “Just tired, that’s all.”

Bellamy frowned, stepping closer. “Clarke,” he said, his tone edged with disbelief. “Come on. I know you better than that.”

She finally looked up at him, and the weight of his gaze made her feel exposed. “What do you want me to say?” she asked, her voice tinged with frustration. “That I’m exhausted? That I don’t know how much longer I can keep doing this? That every decision feels like it’s going to break me?” Her words tumbled out before she could stop them, and she shook her head. “Because if I admit that, Bellamy, then what? Who picks up the pieces?”

Bellamy sighed, moving to sit in the chair near the window. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he looked at her. “You don’t have to keep pretending to be okay,” he said softly. “Not with me.”

Clarke stared at him, her defenses faltering. She wanted to believe him, to let herself be vulnerable, but the idea felt impossible. “If I stop pretending, I don’t know how to keep going,” she admitted quietly, her voice barely audible.

“You don’t have to do this alone, Clarke,” Bellamy said, his tone firm but kind. “You’ve got me. You’ve got Raven, Octavia, even Murphy—whether he admits it or not. We’re all here. Let us help you.”

She looked down at her hands, her fingers twisting in the fabric of her robe. “I don’t know how to let go of it, Bellamy. The responsibility, the guilt—it’s always there.”

“I know,” he said, his voice breaking slightly. “I know what it feels like. But you’ve carried this weight for so long, Clarke. You don’t have to carry it all by yourself anymore.”

Clarke tried to hold onto the sliver of calm she’d found in Bellamy’s presence, but as she opened her mouth to speak, the weight of her grief hit her like a tidal wave. Her breath hitched, and her words caught in her throat.

“The way she died…” she choked out, her voice cracking. “It wasn’t fair.”

Her vision blurred as tears welled up, and she shook her head, trying to will herself back into composure. “She didn’t deserve that, Bellamy. She didn’t…My mom was trying to do the right thing. She gave up everything for Madi, and—” Her voice broke entirely as a sob escaped her lips. “And she died for it. Like… like it didn’t even matter.”

Bellamy was on his feet in an instant, crossing the room to kneel in front of her. “Clarke,” he said softly, his voice steady and grounding. “It mattered. She mattered.”

Clarke’s hands trembled as she buried her face in them, the sobs she had been holding back for so long now breaking free. “It was cruel,” she whispered through her tears. “She didn’t deserve to die like that. She didn’t even get to say goodbye.”

Bellamy reached out, placing a comforting hand on her knee. He didn’t try to stop her tears or offer empty platitudes. He just stayed there with her, grounding her in his steady presence.

“She was proud of you,” he said gently after a moment. “You know that, right? Everything she did—everything she sacrificed—was because she believed in you.”

Clarke looked up at him, her face streaked with tears. “But I couldn’t save her,” she said, her voice trembling. “I couldn’t do anything. She’s gone, Bellamy, and I’m still here, and I don’t know how to live with that.”

Bellamy’s gaze softened, his own emotions flickering across his face. “You live with it because you carry her with you,” he said. “Every choice you make, every life you save—it’s all part of her legacy. You don’t have to do it perfectly, Clarke. You just have to keep going.”

Clarke let out a shaky breath, her tears still falling but her sobs quieting. She felt the warmth of Bellamy’s hand on hers now, his grip firm but gentle.

“I miss her so much,” she whispered.

“I know,” Bellamy said, his voice heavy with understanding. “And you always will. But you’re not alone. You’ve got me, Clarke. Always.”

She met his eyes, the sincerity in his words breaking through the fog of her grief. For the first time in what felt like forever, she let herself lean into the comfort he offered, resting her forehead against his shoulder. Bellamy wrapped his arms around her, holding her tightly as she let herself fall apart in the safety of his embrace.

She pulled back slightly, just enough to meet his eyes, though her vision was still blurred by tears. “We’ve all lost so much,” she said, her voice trembling. “Our friends, our families, our homes… everything. How do we keep going after that? How do we survive when it feels like there’s nothing left?”

Bellamy cupped her face gently, his thumbs brushing away the tears streaking her cheeks. “Because we still have each other,” he said, his voice steady, though his eyes glistened with his own unshed tears. “That’s all we’ve got, Clarke. And it’s enough. It has to be.”

Clarke swallowed hard, her heart aching with the truth of his words. They had lost so many people—Monty, Harper, her mom, even Jasper, who felt like a lifetime ago. And yet, somehow, they were still here, still breathing, still fighting to build something new.

Bellamy gently pulled back from their embrace, brushing a stray strand of hair from Clarke’s face. His expression was soft, filled with concern and something deeper that neither of them could put into words. “Clarke,” he said quietly, “you should get some rest. You’ve been carrying too much for too long.”

Clarke hesitated, her lips trembling as she bit back the fear threatening to rise again. She didn’t want to be alone—not tonight. “Bellamy,” she said softly, her voice wavering, “could you stay? Just for a little while?”

Bellamy’s eyes flickered with surprise, but he nodded without hesitation. “Of course,” he said, his voice steady, grounding. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Clarke stood and walked toward the bed, untying the sash of her robe and letting it slip off her shoulders, leaving her in the elegant nightgown she’d changed into earlier. She untucked the covers, pulling them back as she turned to glance at Bellamy. He stood there awkwardly for a moment, his eyes darting toward the chair by the window.

“I’ll sit over there,” he said, motioning toward the chair. “You should have the bed to yourself.”

Clarke frowned, her brows furrowing. “Bellamy,” she said, her voice gentle but insistent, “please. Lay with me.”

He hesitated, his eyes meeting hers. There was a vulnerability in her gaze, one that made his heart ache. He nodded finally, his shoulders relaxing as he stepped toward her.

“Alright,” he said softly, pulling off his boots and setting them aside. He slid into the bed beside her, staying on top of the covers at first, his body stiff as he tried to give her space. Clarke, however, shifted closer, pulling the covers over both of them. She rested her head on the pillow, her face turned toward him.

“Thank you,” she murmured, her voice barely audible. Her breathing was still uneven, but the presence of someone she trusted eased the tension in her chest.

Bellamy turned onto his side, propping his head up with one hand as he looked at her. “You don’t have to thank me,” he said quietly. “You’ve been there for all of us, Clarke. Let me be here for you.”

Her eyes closed briefly, and a small, almost imperceptible smile tugged at her lips. For the first time in what felt like ages, she felt a flicker of peace. With Bellamy lying beside her, the fear and grief seemed just a little more bearable.

As the room fell into silence, Clarke’s breathing began to steady, and her body relaxed against the bed. Bellamy stayed awake a little longer, watching her as if to make sure she was truly okay. And for the first time in a long time, they both felt like they weren’t alone in the fight to keep going.

–

The warm light of the two suns streamed through the window, bathing the room in a soft golden glow. Clarke stirred, her eyes fluttering open. For a moment, she forgot where she was, the exhaustion of the past few days muddling her senses. But then, she became aware of the steady rise and fall of Bellamy’s breathing beside her—and the solid warmth of his arm draped loosely around her waist.

Her cheeks flushed instantly, and she couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at her lips. It had been so long since she felt even a flicker of comfort, of safety, and now… she wasn’t sure what to make of it. She turned her head slightly, glancing at Bellamy. His face was peaceful, a rare sight that made her heart ache. He looked so different when he wasn’t carrying the weight of their world on his shoulders.

Clarke sighed softly, not wanting to disturb him, but knowing she couldn’t stay like this forever. Slowly, carefully, she began to unwrap herself from his arms, doing her best not to wake him. His arm slipped away easily, and she slipped out of bed, grabbing the robe she had left draped over the chair the night before. She wrapped it around herself, tying the sash tightly as she moved toward the window.

The view outside was almost idyllic. The two suns hovered low in the sky, casting long shadows over the tents and campfires below. People were already awake, moving about the makeshift settlement. She spotted Miller speaking to a group of Wonkru guards near the edge of the camp, their gestures animated. A few Eligius prisoners were gathered near the firepit, eating breakfast and chatting quietly. It was a strange sight—a fragile balance of unity that could shatter at any moment.

Clarke leaned against the windowsill, her mind racing despite the calm scene outside. They were surviving, but only just. There was still so much to do, so many fractures to mend, so many questions unanswered. Her gaze shifted toward the anomaly in the distance, its faint, eerie glow barely visible in the daylight. That, too, was a problem waiting to unravel.

She sighed, rubbing her temple. It was hard to enjoy moments like these when the weight of the world was always pressing down on her shoulders. But then, for a brief second, she let herself smile again, thinking of the peaceful look on Bellamy’s face as he slept.

She turned back toward the bed, watching him for a moment. He deserved the rest—just like all of them did. But she couldn’t help wondering what last night had meant to him, if anything. For now, though, she pushed the thought aside. There were too many pressing matters to dwell on it.

The sudden crack of gunshots shattered the morning’s peace, echoing through the palace and startling Clarke from her thoughts. She flinched, her heart leaping into her throat. The noise was sharp and chaotic, cutting through the usual hum of camp activity.

Bellamy shot up in bed, rubbing his face groggily. “What the hell was that?” he asked, his voice still thick with sleep but edged with alarm.

“I don’t know,” Clarke said quickly, her own panic rising. “But we should check it out.”

Bellamy swung his legs over the side of the bed, quickly tying his boots with practiced precision. Clarke glanced around the room, her heart racing as she tried to think clearly. Spotting a pair of ornate slippers near the wardrobe, she grabbed them and slipped them on, the soft leather barely clinging to her feet as she hurried to the door.

Bellamy was already by her side as they stepped into the hallway, moving quickly but cautiously. Together, they descended the burnt-orange stone staircase, the sunlight spilling into the dim halls from the large windows. The sound of shouts and panicked voices grew louder with each step, and Clarke’s stomach twisted with dread.

As they reached the base of the stairs, the chaos came into view. Outside, people were running in every direction, their faces etched with fear. Wonkru warriors were shouting commands, trying to corral the panic, while others crouched near the edge of the camp, their weapons raised. A cluster of Eligius prisoners stood nearby, arguing among themselves, some of them visibly armed. Clarke could hear the buzz of fear and confusion spreading like wildfire.

“What’s going on?” Bellamy demanded, grabbing the nearest guard—a young Wonkru warrior who looked like he’d barely caught his breath.

“Gunshots,” the warrior panted. “Near the edge of the camp. We don’t know who fired them.”

Clarke’s mind raced as she scanned the scene, her gaze darting to the edge of the camp where people were shouting and pointing. She could make out Indra and Miller among the crowd, their stern voices trying to restore order.

Clarke and Bellamy pushed through the panicked crowd, weaving between people shouting and arguing, their fear palpable. At the center of the chaos, they found Indra and Miller standing near the edge of the camp. Indra’s face was a mask of grim control, while Miller looked tense, his hand hovering near the weapon on his hip.

“What happened?” Clarke demanded as she approached, her voice cutting through the noise.

Miller turned to her, his jaw tight and his eyes filled with frustration. “One of our people shot a Prime follower.”

“What?” Bellamy exclaimed, his voice rising in disbelief. “Why?”

Miller shook his head, his voice low but urgent. “It started as an argument. The Prime follower was insulting Wonkru, blaming us for everything that’s gone wrong since we landed here. They said we ruined everything—took their home, destroyed their way of life. One of our warriors snapped.”

Clarke’s heart sank, her stomach twisting. “And the Prime follower? Are they…?”

Miller’s grim expression said it all. “Dead.”

The words hit Clarke like a physical blow. Her mind raced, already piecing together the fallout this would cause. The fragile peace between the groups had been strained enough as it was. Now, with a death—especially one caused by Wonkru—it would only fuel the resentment and anger simmering on both sides.

Clarke turned to Indra, who was speaking quietly to a group of Wonkru guards. “Who was it?” Clarke asked. 

Indra’s eyes flicked to her, sharp and assessing. “It was Kaelen,” she said, her voice steady but hard. “He admitted to the shot. He said the Prime follower deserved it.”

Clarke clenched her fists, frustration bubbling to the surface. “Where is he now?”

“Detained,” Indra replied. “For now.”

Bellamy stepped forward, his voice tight with anger. “This is exactly what we’ve been trying to prevent. One mistake like this could set everything off. What are the Prime followers going to do when they find out?”

“They already know,” Miller interjected grimly. “Some of them saw it happen. They’re furious. If we don’t do something fast, this is going to turn into a war.”

Clarke took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. Her mind raced, searching for a way to de-escalate the situation. “We need to address this now,” she said firmly. “Before the anger spreads any further.”

Indra nodded. “Agreed. But what’s your plan, Clarke? Wonkru will want to protect Kaelen, and the Prime followers will demand justice.”

Clarke met Indra’s gaze, the weight of the situation pressing down on her. “We’ll hold a trial,” she said, the words coming quickly. “An open trial where everyone can see that justice is being served. Wonkru and the Prime followers both need to feel like their voices are heard.”

Bellamy frowned. “And what happens if that’s not enough? If this spirals out of control?”

Clarke glanced at him, her determination hardening. “Then we do whatever we have to do to stop it. We can’t let this destroy everything we’ve built.”

She turned back to Indra and Miller. “Bring Kaelen to the palace. Make it clear that this will be handled fairly, but also make sure no one else tries to take matters into their own hands.”

Indra hesitated for only a moment before nodding. “I’ll see to it.”

As the guards moved to carry out her orders, Clarke felt Bellamy’s hand on her shoulder. “This isn’t going to be easy,” he said quietly.

“It never is,” Clarke replied, her voice steady despite the storm brewing inside her. “But we’ll get through it. We have to.”

Clarke quickly changed out of her nightwear, trading the soft elegance for her usual practical attire—pants, boots, and a fitted jacket. She tied her hair back hastily, her mind already racing with how to address the situation. The palace was the only neutral ground they had, and she needed to make sure this didn’t spiral any further. As soon as she was ready, she headed to the main hall, where she found Indra and Miller waiting with the restrained Wonkru warrior, Kaelen.

Kaelen sat in a chair, his hands bound in front of him with thick ropes. His expression was defiant, his chin raised as though he were proud of what he’d done. Indra stood at his side, her arms crossed and her face unreadable, while Miller paced nearby, his frustration evident.

Clarke approached with purpose, her boots clicking softly against the stone floor. The room was filled with a tense silence, the weight of the situation pressing down on everyone present. Clarke glanced briefly at Indra, who gave her a small nod before stepping back, allowing Clarke to take the lead.

Clarke stopped in front of Kaelen, her arms crossed as she stared at him down. “Do you understand what you’ve done?” she asked, her voice calm but firm.

Kaelen met her gaze without flinching. “I did what needed to be done,” he said flatly. “That Prime follower was insulting us, blaming Wonkru for their problems. They deserved it.”

“No one deserves to be killed for words,” Clarke shot back, her voice rising slightly. “You’ve not only taken a life, but you’ve put everyone here in danger. Do you understand that?”

“They trying to turn their people against us,” Kaelen argued, his tone defiant. “I was protecting Wonkru.”

Clarke’s jaw tightened, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. “You weren’t protecting Wonkru—you were making things worse. We’ve been trying to hold this fragile peace together, and now you’ve given the Prime followers a reason to see us as the enemy.”

Kaelen scoffed, leaning back in the chair. “They already see us as the enemy. Nothing will change that.”

Clarke stepped closer, her voice lowering but no less intense. “If this turns into a war, it won’t be about words anymore. It’ll be bloodshed—on both sides. People we’ve fought to protect, people we’ve tried to build a future for, will die because of your actions.”

Kaelen finally looked away, though his jaw was still set. He didn’t speak, but Clarke could see the faint flicker of doubt in his expression.

Clarke exhaled sharply, stepping back and glancing at Indra. “We’re holding a trial,” she said firmly, her voice echoing in the hall. “Everyone will get a say—Wonkru and the Prime followers. And Kaelen will answer for what he’s done.”

Indra nodded, her face still unreadable. “I’ll make sure the guards are ready to keep the peace. This will be a volatile situation.”

“It always is,” Clarke muttered, turning her attention back to Kaelen. “You’ll be given a chance to defend yourself, but make no mistake—what you’ve done has consequences.”

Kaelen didn’t respond, but his silence spoke volumes. Clarke stepped away, nodding to Indra and Miller to keep him restrained. As she left the hall, her heart was pounding, her mind spinning with the weight of what was coming.

Meanwhile, Bellamy met up with Octavia, Hope, Gabriel, and Echo in another part of the palace, where they had been going over maps and records from Sanctum and beyond. Bellamy’s focus, however, was on Hope and Gabriel.

“Anything new since yesterday?” he asked, his voice low but urgent.

Gabriel shook his head, his brow furrowed. “No. Hope doesn’t remember anything else, and there haven’t been any new flares from the anomaly. But that doesn’t mean nothing’s coming.”

Octavia was sitting beside Hope, her arm draped protectively around the girl. “We still need to figure out why she came back,” Octavia said quietly. “And why do we know each other but can’t remember how.”

Bellamy glanced at Echo, who was standing off to the side, her arms crossed and her face impassive. “We don’t have time for more mysteries right now,” he said, his frustration showing. “Clarke’s dealing with fallout from the shooting. If this thing with Hope is going to blow up in our faces, we need to know sooner rather than later.”

Gabriel nodded. “I’ll keep working on it, but the anomaly isn’t exactly predictable. We might not get answers until it decides to give them to us.”

Bellamy sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Well, let’s hope it waits until we’re done dealing with one crisis before throwing another one at us.”

 Bellamy was leaning against the wall, waiting for updates from Gabriel and the others, when he caught sight of Clarke walking briskly down the hallway. Her expression was a mixture of exhaustion and frustration, her movements tense with purpose.

“Clarke,” he called out, stepping into her path. “Any updates?”

She stopped, exhaling sharply as though she’d been holding her breath. “The Wonkru warrior, Kaelen, admitted to shooting the Prime follower. I’m holding a trial—both Wonkru and the Prime followers will have a say. It’s the only way to keep things from spiraling out of control.” Her tone was clipped, efficient, but Bellamy could see the strain in her eyes.

He studied her for a moment, his brow furrowing. “And how are you holding up?”

“I’m fine,” Clarke said quickly, brushing past him as if the answer would end the conversation. But Bellamy wasn’t convinced.

“Clarke,” he said, his voice softening as he turned to follow her. “You don’t have to keep saying that. I can tell you’re not.”

She paused, closing her eyes for a moment as if trying to block out the world. When she turned back to face him, her expression was guarded. “It doesn’t matter how I feel, Bellamy. People are dead, the peace we’ve been trying to hold together is unraveling, and I don’t have the luxury of falling apart.”

Bellamy’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t push her. Instead, he nodded. “What’s next?”

Clarke sighed, running a hand through her hair. “Right now, I need to eat something before I pass out. I haven’t had anything since yesterday, and I can’t afford to collapse in the middle of all this.”

He gave her a faint smile, a mix of understanding and worry. “Good idea. Take care of yourself for once.”

She allowed herself a small, fleeting smile. “I’ll meet up with you later,” she said, her voice softening slightly. “We can go over the plan for the trial.”

“Alright,” Bellamy replied, his eyes lingering on her as she turned to leave. “Don’t skip the food this time, Clarke.”

She gave him a half-hearted wave as she walked away, her footsteps echoing down the hall. Bellamy watched her until she disappeared around the corner, his worry deepening. She was carrying too much, and no matter how much she tried to deny it, he could see the cracks forming.

Bellamy turned at the sound of footsteps behind him and saw Echo standing there, her expression unreadable. Her arms were crossed over her chest, but there was a hesitancy in her posture that Bellamy rarely saw.

“Can we talk?” she asked quietly.

Bellamy nodded, glancing around the hall before gesturing for her to follow him into a quieter corner. Once they were out of the main path, he leaned against the wall, folding his arms. “What’s on your mind?”

Echo exhaled slowly, her eyes darting away for a moment before meeting his. “We haven’t had the time to really talk. Not since… everything.” She hesitated, her words careful. “Since I told you I think we’re done.”

Bellamy’s brow furrowed, guilt flashing across his face. “Echo, I—”

She held up a hand, cutting him off gently. “Let me finish.” Her voice was steady but tinged with something fragile. “I’ve been thinking a lot about us, about everything we’ve been through. And I know we care about each other—deeply. But I also know that your heart…” She paused, the faintest crack in her voice. “Your heart will always be for Clarke.”

Bellamy stared at her, the words sinking in. He opened his mouth to protest, but she shook her head before he could speak.

“It’s okay, Bellamy,” she said softly, though her tone carried a hint of sadness. “I’ve known for a while now. I think I just didn’t want to admit it to myself. But seeing the way you look at her, the way you always put her first… it’s not something you can fake. You love her. And not the way you care about me. It’s different.”

Bellamy let out a shaky breath, running a hand through his hair. “Echo… I care about you. I do. You’ve been there for me, and I’ll always be grateful for everything we’ve been through together.”

“I know,” she said, her lips quirking into a faint, bittersweet smile. “But it’s not the same, is it?”

He looked at her, his throat tightening. “I never wanted to hurt you.”

“You didn’t,” she replied firmly. “This isn’t about blame, Bellamy. It’s just the truth. And it’s okay. We’ve both been through so much, and I think…” She trailed off, glancing at the floor. “I think I needed to let this go. For both of us.”

As Bellamy stood in the quiet hallway, Echo turned back to face him, her expression softer now, a mix of understanding and something resembling closure.

“You know,” she began, her voice quiet but steady, “when we were on the ring for those six years… those first two years, when you thought Clarke was dead…” She paused, her eyes searching his. “You were so different. You tried to hide it, but I saw it, Bellamy. You were broken. Depressed. You barely slept, barely ate unless someone made you.”

Bellamy’s shoulders stiffened, and he looked down, guilt flickering across his face. He hadn’t wanted to think about those years, about how much it had torn him apart believing Clarke was gone.

“You kept yourself busy,” Echo continued, her voice softer now. “You kept us all going. You worked harder than anyone else up there because it was the only way you knew how to survive. But I saw you. I saw how much it hurt. How much you missed her.”

Bellamy swallowed hard, meeting her gaze. “I didn’t know how to deal with it,” he admitted quietly. “I thought I’d failed her. Failed everyone. Clarke was… she was my compass. Losing her felt like losing a part of myself.”

Echo gave him a faint, bittersweet smile. “I know. And that’s okay, Bellamy. You’ve come so far since then, and I’m proud of you. But the truth is, it’s always been Clarke. Even when you didn’t realize it.”

Bellamy didn’t respond right away, the weight of her words settling over him. After a moment, he nodded, his voice low but sincere. “You’re right. It has been Clarke. But, Echo, that doesn’t mean you don’t matter to me. You do. You always will. Your family.”

Echo smiled, this time with genuine warmth. “I know. And you’ll always be family to me, too.”

She stepped closer, placing a hand gently on his cheek. “You don’t owe me anything, Bellamy. You’ve already given me more than I could’ve asked for. And you deserve to be happy—whatever that means for you.”

Before he could respond, she leaned in and pressed a light kiss to his cheek, lingering for just a moment before stepping back. “I’ll see you around,” she said, her tone light but final.

Bellamy watched as she walked away, the faint sound of her footsteps fading down the hall. He stood there for a long moment, processing everything she’d said. It wasn’t easy—letting go of someone who had been by his side for so long—but it felt like the right thing for both of them.

With a deep breath, Bellamy turned and headed toward the palace’s central hall, where he knew Clarke would be. Echo was right—it always had been Clarke. And now, he finally felt ready to face that truth.

–

Clarke finally found a quiet moment to meet up with Gaia and Madi later that afternoon. The chaos of the day had kept her busy, but she had been meaning to check in with them, especially Madi. It had been too long since she’d made time for her, and the guilt weighed heavily on her.

They met in one of the smaller rooms of the palace that Gaia had turned into a peaceful retreat—a place where she and Madi could escape the tensions outside. Madi was sitting cross-legged on a rug, sketching something in a notebook while Gaia quietly organized a few belongings.

When Clarke entered, Madi’s face lit up. “Clarke!” she said, bounding up to her feet and running over to hug her.

Clarke knelt down to meet her, wrapping her arms tightly around Madi and holding her close. For a moment, the weight on her shoulders lifted as she felt the warmth of Madi’s hug. “Hey,” Clarke said softly, pulling back to look at her. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too,” Madi said with a smile, her bright eyes filled with love. “You’ve been so busy.”

Clarke sighed, brushing a strand of Madi’s hair behind her ear. “I know, and I’m sorry. Things have been… chaotic.”

Madi nodded, but there was a flicker of concern in her gaze. “Is everything okay?”

Clarke forced a small smile. “It will be. But there’s something I wanted to talk to you about.”

Madi tilted her head, curious. “What is it?”

Clarke stood and glanced at Gaia, who was watching silently with her usual calm demeanor, before turning back to Madi. “I’ve been thinking… you deserve to have a real childhood. Not just surviving, not just running from one crisis to the next. You deserve peace, Madi. And part of that means going to school.”

Madi’s eyes widened in surprise. “School?”

“Yes,” Clarke said with a nod. “Not just training or studying how to fight. Real school. Reading, writing, art—learning how to be a kid, not a soldier.”

Madi’s face broke into a bright smile, and without warning, she threw her arms around Clarke again. “Thank you,” she said, her voice muffled against Clarke’s shoulder. “I’d like that.”

Clarke hugged her back, a lump forming in her throat. “You deserve it, Madi. More than anything.”

When Madi pulled back, she was practically glowing with excitement. “When can I start?”

Clarke laughed softly, her heart lightened by the sight of Madi’s happiness. “Soon. I’ll make sure of it.”

As Madi returned to her sketches, Clarke turned to Gaia, who had been watching the interaction with a small, approving smile. Gaia stepped closer, her voice gentle. “You’re doing the right thing for her, Clarke.”

Clarke nodded but didn’t say anything, the weight of the day creeping back in as the moment of warmth faded. Gaia’s gaze softened, and she tilted her head slightly. “How are you doing?”

“I’m fine,” Clarke said quickly, the familiar lie slipping out before she could stop it. She crossed her arms, trying to seem more composed than she felt. “Just… stressed. There’s a lot going on.”

Gaia studied her for a moment, her calm and measured demeanor unwavering. “Clarke,” she said softly, “you don’t always have to say you’re fine. You’ve been through more than most people could even imagine. It’s okay to need help.”

Clarke shook her head, forcing a tight smile. “I’m handling it. I don’t have much of a choice.”

Gaia reached out, placing a comforting hand on Clarke’s arm. “You’re not alone,” she said gently. “If you need anything—anything at all—I’m here. We all are.”

Clarke felt her throat tighten but nodded, grateful for the reassurance even if she couldn’t bring herself to fully lean on it. “Thanks, Gaia,” she said quietly.

Clarke shifted uncomfortably, feeling the weight of Gaia’s gentle concern. She cleared her throat, deciding it was time to redirect the conversation. Clarke turned to Madi, her expression growing more serious. “Madi, I know you don’t have the Flame anymore, but… you had it in you for a long time. That’s not something we can just ignore. There’s a chance you’ll still get flashes of memories from the past commanders, or even nightmares. If anything like that happens—anything at all—I want you to talk to Gaia about it.”

Madi’s expression turned thoughtful, her pencil hovering over her notebook. “You think that could still happen?” she asked quietly, glancing between Clarke and Gaia.

“There’s a chance,” Clarke admitted, kneeling in front of her. “The Flame connected you to something bigger than yourself. Even without it, there might be lingering traces of those memories. I just want you to know you’re not alone if it does happen.”

Gaia stepped closer, her voice calm and reassuring. “Madi, if you ever feel overwhelmed by memories, dreams, or anything that doesn’t make sense, you can always come to me. I’ll help you make sense of it.”

Madi nodded, her small hands clutching her pencil tightly. “Okay,” she said softly. “I’ll talk to Gaia if anything happens.”

Clarke smiled, reaching out to brush a strand of hair behind Madi’s ear. “Good. I just want you to know that no matter what, you have people who care about you and will help you. Always.”

Madi smiled faintly, her gaze drifting to Gaia. “Thanks, Gaia. For everything.”

Gaia returned the smile, her posture straightening slightly as she placed a hand on her chest in a subtle gesture of respect. “It’s my honor, Heda,” she said softly, though the title felt more like an acknowledgment of Madi’s strength than a formal label.

Clarke stood, glancing between the two of them. “I’ll make sure to check in as much as I can, but with everything going on… I just need to know you’re in good hands, Madi. And with Gaia, I know you are.”

Madi looked up at her, her young face serious but full of warmth. “I’ll be okay, Clarke. I promise.”

Clarke nodded, her heart swelling with pride and a touch of relief. Madi was strong—stronger than she should have to be—but Clarke was determined to give her the chance at something more, something better.

As she stepped back, giving Madi and Gaia space, Clarke felt a glimmer of hope. Even in the chaos surrounding them, there was still room for something good. Something worth fighting for.

–

Clarke took a deep breath as she walked toward the Sanctum lockup, her steps measured and purposeful. It had been weeks since she had faced Russell—weeks since the chaos of his attempted hijacking of the Eligius mothership and the devastating revelation that he had killed her mother. She had been avoiding this confrontation, but she knew it couldn’t wait any longer.

Miller and Indra flanked her, their presence steady and reassuring. Neither of them spoke as they approached the locked door. They didn’t need to—Clarke’s expression made it clear that this was a conversation she had to handle herself. But she was grateful for their support, for the silent acknowledgment that she didn’t have to go through it completely alone.

The guard standing outside the lockup gave Clarke a small nod, his keys jangling as he unlocked the heavy metal door. “He’s been quiet,” the guard said, stepping aside to allow them through. “Hasn’t caused any trouble since we brought him here.”

Clarke gave a curt nod in return, stepping into the dimly lit room. The air inside was cold and heavy, carrying the faint scent of damp stone and rusted metal.

Russell was seated in the center of the room, his hands bound in front of him with reinforced restraints. His once regal demeanor was dulled, his hair disheveled and his clothes rumpled. But his eyes—sharp and calculating—still carried the same air of arrogance Clarke had come to expect from him.

He looked up as she entered, his lips curling into a faint smirk. “Clarke Griffin,” he said, his voice calm, almost mocking. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Clarke stopped a few feet away, her arms crossed as she stared him down. “You know why I’m here,” she said, her voice cold and steady. “It’s time we talked.”

Russell leaned back in his chair, his smirk widening. “I was wondering how long it would take you to come see me. What’s it been—weeks? I thought you’d be the first to confront me after everything.”

Clarke’s jaw tightened, but she refused to rise to his bait. “You tried to hijack the Eligius mothership,” she said sharply. “And you killed my mother.”

Russell’s smirk faded slightly at the mention of Abby. For a moment, his expression shifted—something that might have been regret flickered across his face, but it was gone just as quickly as it appeared. “I did what I thought was necessary,” he said evenly. “

Clarke took a step closer to Russell, her hands clenched into tight fists at her sides. Her voice was low but trembling with controlled fury. “My mother tried to help you,” she said through gritted teeth. “She created more Nightbloods for your sick, god-complex fantasy—to keep the peace, to save lives. And how did you repay her? You killed her, and you put your wife’s mind into her body.”

Russell leaned back in his chair, his face impassive, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—defiance, maybe even self-righteousness. “You’re oversimplifying, Clarke,” he said calmly, as though they were discussing a philosophical debate instead of her mother’s murder. “Simone’s death wasn’t my doing. The Prime rebels killed her. They started the chaos, not me. And it was only fair—fitting, even—that the mother of the leader, which your people who landed on this planet would provide the host for my wife.”

Clarke’s breath hitched, her anger rising to a boiling point. “Fair?” she hissed, her voice sharp. “You think it was fair to murder my mother, to strip her of her life, her agency, just to bring back your wife? Do you even hear yourself?”

Russell tilted his head, his expression almost serene. “Your mother was a doctor, Clarke. She understood the importance of sacrifice. She would have seen the greater good in—”

“Don’t you dare,” Clarke snapped, cutting him off as her voice rose. “Don’t you dare try to justify this to me. My mother wasn’t a sacrifice. She wasn’t yours to use, to decide her fate. She was a person, not a tool for your twisted idea of balance.”

Russell’s calm demeanor didn’t waver, but his gaze darkened slightly. “And yet you’ve made similar choices, haven’t you? For your people. For your Child. You’ve played god before, Clarke. What makes me so different?”

Clarke felt her hands trembling now, her anger barely contained. “The difference is I live with the guilt every day,” she said, her voice breaking slightly. “I don’t justify it. I don’t call it fair.”

Russell smiled faintly, though there was no warmth in it. “Then I suppose we’ll have to agree to disagree.”

Clarke stepped back, her heart pounding in her chest. She wanted to scream at him, to lash out, to make him feel even a fraction of the pain he had caused. But she forced herself to stay in control, breathing deeply as she tried to ground herself.

“You’re going to face the people of Sanctum,” she said coldly, her voice steady despite the storm raging inside her. “And they’ll see you for what you really are—a man who hides behind lies and power, who sacrifices others for his own selfish gains.”

Russell leaned forward slightly, his smirk returning. “Perhaps. But remember, Clarke—you and I aren’t as different as you’d like to think.”

Clarke didn’t respond. She turned sharply on her heel and walked out of the room, her footsteps echoing in the dim corridor. Indra and Miller followed silently, their faces grim.

As the door slammed shut behind her, Clarke stopped in the hallway, her hands trembling with rage. Indra placed a steadying hand on her shoulder, her voice calm. “You held your ground, Clarke. That’s all that matters.”

Clarke nodded, her jaw tight. “He’ll never see what he’s done. But the people of Sanctum will. They deserve justice.”

Indra nodded solemnly, and Miller added quietly, “We’ll make sure they get it.”

Clarke took a deep breath, trying to release some of the anger still burning inside her. This wasn’t over yet. It wouldn’t be over until Russell Lightbourne faced the consequences of everything he had done—and Clarke would make sure that happened.

–

Indra’s voice echoed in the palace meeting hall as she tried to keep control of the group of Wonkru warriors seated before her. Tensions were high. Some of the warriors argued passionately about wiping out the Sanctum citizens and taking over completely, claiming it was the only way to secure their future. Others argued for abandoning the moon altogether and heading back into space to find another habitable planet. The room was thick with frustration and dissent, and Indra’s patience was wearing thin.

Meanwhile, Clarke had gathered in a quieter part of the palace with Gabriel, Echo, Bellamy, Hope, and Octavia. They stood around a table, its surface cluttered with maps, Gabriel’s notes, and fragments of information about the anomaly. Clarke’s arms were crossed, her focus on Octavia.

“Do you remember anything?” Clarke asked Octavia, her voice firm but not accusatory. “Anything at all about how you know Hope or what happened in the anomaly?”

Octavia shook her head, her frustration evident. “I don’t,” she said, her voice tinged with annoyance at herself. “I know her name—knew it the second I saw her. But I don’t know why. The only clear thing I remember is walking into the anomaly with my arm degrading from the flare.” She gestured toward her arm as though to emphasize her point. “I went in, and five seconds later, I walked back out. My arm was fine, my hair was longer, and everything felt… off.”

Bellamy frowned. “You don’t remember anything that happened in between? Not even flashes?”

Octavia shook her head again, her frustration mounting. “Nothing. It’s like there’s a wall in my mind. I can feel something’s there, but I can’t reach it.”

Clarke looked to Gabriel, who was seated with a journal open in front of him. “You’ve done tests on her, haven’t you?” Clarke asked.

Gabriel nodded, his expression thoughtful. “I’ve done every test I could think of,” he admitted. “Scans, cognitive exercises, even exposure to small pulses of anomaly energy to see if it would trigger anything. But nothing. Whatever memories she has are buried deep, locked away. It’s not just amnesia—it’s something the anomaly itself has done.”

“It doesn’t make sense,” Echo said, her arms crossed as she leaned against the table. “If Octavia can’t remember anything, how does she know Hope’s name?”

Gabriel shrugged. “The anomaly doesn’t follow normal rules. Maybe the name is part of a memory that survived, or maybe it’s something deeper—something we don’t understand yet.”

Hope, who had been sitting quietly beside Octavia, finally spoke up, her voice hesitant. “I don’t remember much either,” she said, her eyes flickering nervously to Octavia. “But when I saw you, it felt… familiar. Like I knew you. Like you were… important.”

Octavia gave her a small smile, though it was strained. “Well, if I was, I don’t remember why. But we’ll figure it out.”

Clarke’s jaw tightened as she glanced between them. “The anomaly keeps throwing more questions at us,” she said. “And we don’t have time to figure it all out while Wonkru is tearing itself apart and Sanctum is on the verge of collapse.”

Bellamy stepped closer, his tone calm but firm. “One step at a time, Clarke. We’ll get through this.”

Gabriel leaned forward, his gaze serious. “The anomaly isn’t just a threat—it’s an opportunity. If we can figure out what it did to Octavia, or why Hope is here, we might be able to use it to our advantage. We just need more time.”

Clarke sighed, running a hand through her hair. “Time is the one thing we don’t have. Indra’s trying to keep Wonkru from turning on Sanctum, and if we don’t get ahead of this, it’s all going to fall apart.”

Octavia straightened, determined in her voice. “Then let’s figure this out. Whatever it takes.”

Clarke nodded, though the weight of everything still loomed over her. “We’ll figure it out,” she said. “We have to. But first, we need to keep Wonkru from doing anything stupid.”

As they gathered their things and prepared to regroup with Indra, Clarke couldn’t help but glance back at Hope and Octavia. Whatever secrets the anomaly held, it was clear that they were running out of time to uncover them.

Chapter Text

Tensions in Sanctum had been rising steadily as the days passed. Patrols had been doubled, with Sanctum guards and Wonkru warriors reluctantly working side by side to keep order. While some progress had been made in fostering cooperation, the Prime followers remained a volatile element, their resentment simmering beneath the surface. One wrong move could ignite a full-blown conflict.

Clarke stood near the central hall with Indra and Miller, a crude map of Sanctum spread across a table in front of them. They were going over tactics, marking patrol routes and identifying weak points in their defenses. Indra’s voice was calm but firm as she pointed to a section of the map.

“We’ve stationed two guards at the northern gate,” Indra said, “but if the Prime followers decide to rebel, that’s where they’ll attack. It’s the most vulnerable point.”

Miller nodded, his brow furrowed. “We can rotate some of the Wonkru guards to that area, but they’re already stretched thin. Some of them are starting to question why we’re protecting the Sanctum citizens at all.”

Clarke sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “We need to keep them focused. Remind them that if this place falls into chaos, everyone loses. If we don’t hold it together, there’s nothing left for any of us.”

Indra nodded in agreement. “I’ll speak to them again. They’ll listen to me—for now.”

Before Clarke could respond, she saw Raven approaching from the corner of her eye. Raven’s expression was tight, a mixture of frustration and urgency. Clarke straightened, recognizing that whatever Raven needed to say, it wasn’t good news.

“Indra, Miller, excuse me for a moment,” Clarke said, stepping away from the table.

Indra nodded curtly, returning her focus to the map, while Miller kept a wary eye on the surrounding area.

“What’s going on?” Clarke asked as Raven reached her.

Raven let out a sharp breath, crossing her arms. “It’s Murphy and Emori,” she said. “Playing the fake Primes is starting to wear on them. Badly.”

Clarke frowned. “What do you mean? I thought they were handling it.”

“They were,” Raven said, her voice lowering. “But things are getting worse. The Prime followers are getting more suspicious, asking questions, pushing boundaries. Murphy’s doing his best to keep them in line, but you know how he is—he doesn’t have the patience for this kind of thing. And Emori… she’s trying to keep him grounded, but it’s taking a toll on her, too.”

Clarke sighed, running a hand through her hair. “Do they think they can keep it up?”

“They don’t have a choice,” Raven replied bluntly. “If they blow their cover now, it’s over. The Prime followers will lose it completely, and we’ll have a riot on our hands.”

Clarke clenched her jaw, her mind racing. She had asked so much of Murphy and Emori, and they had risen to the challenge, but she hadn’t anticipated just how difficult this would become. “What do they need from me?”

“Support,” Raven said simply. “They need to know we have their backs. And maybe… maybe we need to start thinking about an exit strategy. Because I don’t know how much longer they can keep this up without cracking.”

Clarke nodded, her thoughts heavy. “Alright. I’ll talk to them. We’ll figure out a way to ease the pressure, even if it’s just temporary.”

Raven’s shoulders relaxed slightly. “Good. Because if Murphy snaps and tells one of those Prime followers to shove it, we’re screwed.”

Despite herself, Clarke gave a small, dry chuckle. “Sounds like Murphy.”

“Yeah,” Raven said with a faint smirk. “But he’s trying. They both are. We just need to make sure they don’t get burned in the process.”

Clarke nodded, her resolve hardening. “I’ll handle it. Thanks for letting me know.”

Clarke made her way to Ryker’s Keep, a secluded section of Sanctum that Murphy and Emori had claimed as their base for their “Prime act.” It was quieter here, far enough from the chaos of the central settlement to give them some semblance of privacy, though the weight of their charade lingered in the air.

As she stepped into the large chamber, Clarke found Murphy lounging against a table, his posture relaxed but his expression anything but. Emori sat nearby, fidgeting with an old piece of machinery, her usual calm demeanor replaced with visible tension.

Murphy glanced up as Clarke approached, raising an eyebrow. “Well, if it isn’t our fearless leader. Come to check on your favorite fakes?”

Clarke ignored the sarcasm, crossing her arms as she stopped in front of him. “I came to see how you’re holding up,” she said. Her tone was calm but firm, cutting through the weight of the room. “Raven told me things have been getting harder.”

Murphy snorted, straightening up. “Harder? Clarke, these people worshipped the Primes. Every word I say, every move I make—they’re dissecting it, looking for cracks. You think I’m good at lying? These people are making me second-guess every damn thing I say.”

“John,” Emori interjected gently, her hand resting on his arm. “You’ve been doing great. They believe you.”

“Yeah, for now,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “But how much longer do you expect us to keep this up, Clarke? Because I’m telling you, the cracks are starting to show.”

Clarke sighed, stepping closer. “I know this hasn’t been easy,” she said, her voice softening. “And I know I’ve asked too much of both of you. But right now, we don’t have another option. The Prime followers are already on edge, and if they find out the truth, we’ll lose any chance of maintaining peace.”

Murphy let out a bitter laugh. “Peace. Right. Because this place is just so peaceful.”

“Murphy,” Clarke said sharply, making him pause. “I need you to keep playing the role. Just a little longer. The compound is almost ready. Once we have a safe place for everyone, we can start moving people out of Sanctum, separating groups, and giving everyone space. But until then, we need to hold this together.”

Raven joined Clarke, Murphy, and Emori in the quiet space of Ryker’s Keep, her presence adding to the tension already hanging in the air. She leaned against the table, arms crossed, her expression serious but calm.

“Look,” Raven began, glancing between Murphy and Emori. “I know this sucks, but we just need to keep everyone at peace for now. It doesn’t have to be perfect. It just has to hold long enough for us to get this compound built and get people settled.”

Murphy let out a bitter laugh, pushing off the table he was leaning on and pacing the room. “A year, Raven. That’s how long you said it would take to finish this compound. You really think I can do this for a whole year? Pretending to be something I’m not? Being worshipped by people who would probably kill me if they found out the truth?” He stopped pacing, turning to face Clarke directly. “Because I don’t.”

Clarke stepped forward, her gaze steady. “Murphy,” she said softly but firmly, “I’m not asking you to do this for a whole year.”

Murphy frowned, confusion flashing across his face. “What are you asking me, then? Because it feels like you’re asking me to carry this whole thing on my back.”

“I’m asking you to keep this going for now,” Clarke explained, her voice calm but resolute. “Just until we can find a way to ease the pressure. Once the compound is livable, we’ll start moving people. Separate the groups, give everyone some space, and take the weight off you and Emori. I just need you to hold it together until we get to that point.”

Murphy sighed, running a hand through his hair. “And what happens if I can’t?”

“You can,” Clarke said firmly. “You already have. Every day you keep this up, you’re helping to prevent a riot. You’re buying us time to build something better. And I’m not going to let you do it alone.”

Raven nodded, stepping in to back Clarke up. “We’re not throwing you to the wolves, Murphy. You’re not alone in this. If things start to fall apart, we’ll step in. But for now, you and Emori are the only thing keeping the Prime followers from losing it.”

Emori, who had been quiet until now, placed a reassuring hand on Murphy’s arm. “We’ll do what we can,” she said, her voice steady but tired. Clarke nodded, her gaze unwavering. 

Murphy let out a slow breath, his shoulders slumping slightly. “Fine,” he muttered. “I’ll keep it up for now. But if this blows up in our faces, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“I won’t,” Clarke said, a faint, grateful smile crossing her face. “And I’ll make sure it doesn’t.”

As the tension in the room eased slightly, Raven gave Murphy a teasing smirk. “See? I knew you’d pull through. Deep down, you’re practically a hero.”

Murphy rolled his eyes, but there was a flicker of amusement in his expression. “Don’t push it, Raven.”

As Murphy and Emori left Ryker’s Keep, their voices fading into the distance, Clarke turned back toward Raven, who was leaning casually against the edge of the table. Clarke exhaled, crossing her arms as the tension of the conversation lingered in her chest.

Raven gave her a knowing look, raising an eyebrow. “You good?” she asked, her tone light but carrying a hint of concern.

Clarke forced a small smile, shrugging. “I’m fine. It’ll work out… as long as things stay intact.”

Raven’s skeptical expression didn’t budge. “Clarke, I know you. You’re holding it together, but just barely.” She paused, studying her friend carefully. “Look, I get it. Everything’s riding on this. But you can’t keep carrying all of it by yourself.”

Clarke sighed, her shoulders slumping slightly. “What choice do I have? If I don’t keep this together, it all falls apart.”

“Maybe,” Raven said, her voice softening. “But you’ve got people, Clarke. You’re not alone. You need to let us help, or you’re going to burn yourself out before the compound’s even half-built.”

Clarke looked down, her hands tightening around her arms. “I just… I don’t know how to let go, Raven. I’ve been doing this for so long—leading, fixing things, making decisions. If I stop, even for a second, I feel like it’ll all crumble.”

Raven straightened, stepping closer to Clarke. “It won’t crumble, Clarke. Not if we’re all holding it together. You don’t have to do everything yourself. Trust us. Trust me.”

Clarke met her gaze, her throat tightening. For a moment, she allowed herself to take in Raven’s words, the truth of them settling over her like a lifeline. She nodded slowly, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll try.”

Clarke ran a hand through her hair, glancing toward the door where Murphy and Emori had just exited. She turned back to Raven, her expression thoughtful. “I should probably go check on Bellamy and the others,” she said, her voice steady but tired. “Still no updates on Hope remembering anything.”

Raven nodded, her smirk fading. “Alright, go. I’ll handle things here for now.” Clarke chuckled softly, though the weight of their situation still lingered. “Thanks, Raven.”

–

Clarke adjusted her jacket against the cool breeze as she walked alongside Bellamy, Gabriel, Octavia, Echo, and Hope just outside Sanctum’s fence. The forest was quiet but tense, the sound of their footsteps crunching over leaves filling the silence. Gabriel had insisted that getting closer to the anomaly might help trigger something—anything—for Octavia or Hope. Clarke wasn’t convinced but agreed to join them, hoping for answers.

As they pushed deeper into the woods, the wind began to pick up, rustling the branches above them. Clarke pulled her jacket tighter, glancing at Gabriel, who was scanning the path ahead. “I don’t understand,” she said, breaking the silence. “Why would being near the anomaly trigger anything for them? They’ve already been through it.”

Gabriel turned his head slightly, his expression calm but thoughtful. “The anomaly doesn’t operate by normal rules,” he explained. “Its energy interacts with everything around it—including the human brain. It’s possible that being near it again could jog memories, especially ones buried or locked away.”

Clarke frowned, her skepticism evident. “But how would that even work? It’s just… energy, right?”

Gabriel shook his head, a small, knowing smile tugging at his lips. “It’s more than that. The anomaly interacts with the environment on a molecular level. The same toxins that are released during the Red Sun events? They’re also present near the anomaly, albeit in smaller concentrations.”

Clarke’s steps slowed as she processed this. “The toxins? You mean the ones that make people hallucinate?”

“Exactly,” Gabriel said, nodding. “But it’s not just about hallucinations. Those toxins affect the brain’s neural pathways. They can unlock repressed memories, heighten emotions, even create connections to things you wouldn’t normally perceive. If Octavia or Hope have anything buried in their minds, being near the anomaly might help bring it to the surface.”

Bellamy, walking just ahead of Clarke, glanced back at Gabriel. “And if it doesn’t work? If they still don’t remember anything?”

“Then we’re no worse off than we are now,” Gabriel replied, his tone practical. “But if it works, we could learn something—about them, about the anomaly, about what we’re dealing with.”

Clarke glanced at Octavia, who was walking in silence beside Hope. Her expression was tense, her eyes flickering between the trees as if expecting something—or someone—to appear. “What do you think?” Clarke asked her.

Octavia shrugged, her voice clipped. “I don’t know. Gabriel’s the expert on this anomaly stuff. I just want answers.”

Hope, walking quietly beside her, spoke up for the first time. “I want answers too,” she said, her voice small but determined. “I don’t remember anything about my life before I came out of the anomaly. If this helps me figure out who I am… I’ll try.”

Clarke nodded, her resolve hardening. She still wasn’t sure about Gabriel’s theory, but she knew they couldn’t afford to ignore any potential leads. As they neared the glowing green swirl of the anomaly, the wind picked up further, carrying with it an eerie hum that seemed to vibrate through the air.

Gabriel stopped, raising a hand to signal the group. “We’re close,” he said. “Take it slow. The energy field around the anomaly can be… disorienting.”

As the group moved deeper into the woods, the green hue of the anomaly began to bleed through the trees, its glow casting eerie, shifting shadows around them. The hum of the anomaly grew louder, resonating in the air like a heartbeat. Clarke felt her steps falter, her chest tightening as a strange, distorted sound reached her ears—voices, distant and warped, as if coming through a broken radio.

At first, she shook her head, trying to clear the noise. But then the voice sharpened, familiar and cutting.

“Clarke.”

She froze, her breath hitching. It wasn’t just any voice—it was her mother’s.

Abby’s voice.

“Clarke, you let me die,” the voice said, growing louder, more accusatory. “You were supposed to protect me. But you didn’t. You let me suffer.”

Clarke’s eyes darted around the trees, her heart pounding in her chest. And then, through the green hue, she saw her. Abby. Standing just beyond the trees, her face pale, her eyes filled with disappointment.

“Mom?” Clarke whispered, her voice trembling.

“You failed me,” Abby said, stepping closer. Her tone was sharp, cutting into Clarke’s very soul. “I trusted you, and you let me die. How could you do that to me?”

Tears welled in Clarke’s eyes, and her legs felt weak beneath her. She shook her head, her vision blurring as the image of Abby grew clearer. “No, I—I didn’t…” she stammered.

“Clarke?” Bellamy’s voice cut through the fog of her thoughts, grounding her slightly. He had stopped a few steps ahead and was now looking back at her with concern. “What’s wrong?”

Clarke barely heard him, her focus locked on Abby’s figure. “I didn’t mean to,” she whispered, tears streaming down her face. “I tried to save you. I—”

“There’s nothing left to save,” Abby’s distorted voice spat. “You let me die. Just like everyone else.”

“Clarke!” Bellamy called more firmly now, his tone snapping her out of her spiral. He quickly crossed the distance between them, his hands gripping her shoulders as he forced her to look at him.

“Clarke, what’s happening?” he asked, his voice steady but urgent.

She blinked up at him, her breath ragged as tears streaked her face. “I—” she started, but her words were swallowed by a sob. “I see her, Bellamy. I see my mom.”

Bellamy’s eyes flicked to where Clarke was staring, but all he saw were trees and the faint glow of the anomaly. “Clarke, there’s no one there,” he said gently.

“She’s there!” Clarke cried, her voice breaking. “She’s telling me I let her die. She’s saying I failed her…”

Bellamy’s grip on her shoulders tightened slightly. “Clarke, listen to me. It’s not real. It’s the anomaly. Gabriel said the toxins near it could cause hallucinations. It’s messing with your head.”

Clarke shook her head, the tears falling faster. “But it feels real. She’s so real…”

Bellamy’s voice softened, his eyes locking with hers. “Clarke, look at me. This isn’t her. It’s the toxins trying to get inside your head. You didn’t fail her. You didn’t let her die.”

Clarke’s breathing was uneven, her body trembling as she tried to process his words. The image of Abby was still there, lingering on the edges of her vision, but Bellamy’s steady presence kept her from spiraling completely.

Gabriel stepped closer to Clarke, his expression calm but serious, his voice low and steady. “Clarke,” he said, drawing her attention away from Bellamy and the lingering vision of her mother. “You can’t give in to it. The toxins near the anomaly are powerful, but they’re not real. What you’re seeing, hearing—it’s not real.”

Clarke looked at him, her breathing still uneven, her hands trembling slightly. “But it felt real,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I could see her, hear her. It was like she was really here, Gabriel.”

Gabriel gave her a sympathetic look but shook his head. “That’s exactly what the anomaly wants. The toxins are designed to prey on your emotions, your fears, your regrets. They’re pulling from your mind, showing you what hurts the most, because that’s how they control you.”

“It’s cruel,” Clarke muttered, wrapping her arms around herself. “It’s like it knows…”

“It doesn’t know, Clarke,” Gabriel interrupted gently. “The toxins don’t think, but they react. They amplify what’s already in you. That’s why you have to stay grounded. Focus on what’s real. What’s in front of you.”

Bellamy, still standing beside her, gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “Gabriel’s right,” he said softly. “This isn’t Abby. It’s the toxins twisting your mind. You can fight it, Clarke.”

Clarke’s gaze flickered between Bellamy and Gabriel, her chest tightening. “What if I’m not?” she whispered, the vulnerability in her voice cutting through the tension.

“You are,” Gabriel said firmly, stepping closer and meeting her gaze. “You’ve survived worse than this. The toxins are powerful, but they’re not stronger than you. You just have to keep reminding yourself: it’s not real.”

Clarke took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. The image of her mother had faded now, leaving only the eerie green glow of the anomaly and the concerned faces of her friends around her. She nodded slowly, her grip tightening on her bag as she straightened her shoulders.

“Okay,” she said, her voice stronger now. “It’s not real.”

Gabriel nodded, his expression softening slightly. “That’s right. Stay focused on that.”

Bellamy gave her a small, encouraging smile. “We’ve got you. Whatever happens, we’ll get through it.”

Clarke glanced at him, then back to Gabriel and the others. “Let’s keep going,” she said, her resolve hardening. Gabriel hesitated for a moment but nodded, motioning for the group to continue. “Stay close,” he warned. “The closer we get, the stronger the effects will be. We have to stick together.”

As the group pressed closer to the anomaly, its green glow pulsing faintly through the dense woods, the eerie hum grew louder. The air felt heavier, and the subtle breeze that had accompanied them earlier now seemed to carry a strange, charged energy. Clarke focused on her breathing, pushing through her lingering unease, but she noticed Octavia starting to lag behind.

Bellamy noticed too. He glanced over his shoulder and saw Octavia slow her pace, her expression distant and unfocused. Her eyes darted around the woods as if searching for something—or someone.

“Octavia?” Bellamy called, his voice filled with concern. He stepped back toward her, placing a steady hand on her shoulder. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

Octavia flinched slightly at his touch, her wide eyes locking onto his as if seeing him for the first time. “Do you hear that?” she whispered, her voice trembling.

“Hear what?” Bellamy asked, his grip on her shoulder tightening slightly.

“The voices,” Octavia said, her head turning sharply toward the trees. Her face was pale, her breaths quickening. “I can hear them. They’re… they’re calling my name.”

Bellamy frowned, glancing toward the others, who had paused to watch the interaction. “There’s nothing out there, O. It’s the anomaly—it’s messing with your head.”

But Octavia didn’t seem to hear him. She took a shaky step forward, her hand reaching out toward something invisible. “Lincoln?” she whispered, her voice cracking. “Is that you?”

Bellamy’s heart sank, and he quickly moved to stand in front of her, blocking her view of the woods. “Octavia, look at me,” he said firmly. “It’s not real. Lincoln’s not here.”

Tears welled in Octavia’s eyes, and she shook her head as if trying to clear it. “But I can hear him,” she said, her voice breaking. “I can hear his voice… He’s telling me to come back.”

Bellamy reached out and cupped her face gently, forcing her to meet his gaze. “Octavia, listen to me. It’s not him. It’s the anomaly. It’s showing you what you want to see, what you’re afraid of losing. It’s not real.”

Octavia blinked rapidly, her tears spilling over. “It feels real, Bell,” she whispered, her voice filled with pain. “I miss him so much…”

“I know,” Bellamy said softly, his voice heavy with emotion. “I know you do. But this isn’t him. It’s just a trick. And you’re stronger than this. You can fight it.”

Octavia’s breathing slowed slightly as Bellamy’s words reached her, grounding her. She closed her eyes tightly, shaking her head. “It’s so loud,” she murmured. “I can’t—”

“You can,” Bellamy interrupted gently but firmly. “You’ve been through worse than this, O. You’ve fought through hell, and you’re still here. You’re stronger than this”

Octavia opened her eyes, her gaze locking onto Bellamy’s. Slowly, she nodded, the distant look in her eyes beginning to fade. “Okay,” she said shakily. “Okay.”

Bellamy gave her a small, reassuring smile. “I’ve got you,” he said. “You’re not alone in this.”

Clarke stepped closer, her voice calm but firm. “Gabriel was right. The anomaly is reacting to what’s inside of us—our fears, our regrets. But we’re here together. Whatever it throws at us, we’ll face it as a team.”

Octavia took a deep breath, wiping her tears as she nodded again. Bellamy kept a steady hand on her shoulder, guiding her back toward the group. Gabriel gave her a reassuring nod as they resumed their path toward the anomaly.

The air felt heavier with every step they took, the hum of the anomaly vibrating through their bones. The faint green glow intensified, casting an otherworldly light through the dense forest. Clarke could feel the tension mounting in the group, the toxins from the anomaly working harder to pull at their fears and regrets.

Bellamy slowed his pace, his steps faltering as his jaw tightened. He glanced around, his expression shifting to one of unease. A voice, faint and haunting, began to echo in his ears.

“Bellamy Blake,” it said, laced with disappointment. “You failed me. You couldn’t even take care of Octavia.”

He froze in place, his breath hitching. His mother’s voice—soft but cutting—wrapped around him like a noose.

“You were supposed to protect her,” the voice continued, growing louder. “But you let her suffer. You let her become a monster. You were supposed to keep her safe, Bellamy.”

Bellamy’s breaths quickened, his head bowing as he felt the weight of the words crushing him. He was teetering on the edge when a hand grabbed his arm, grounding him.

“Bellamy!” Clarke’s voice cut through the haze, sharp and commanding. “It’s not real. Look at me!”

He blinked, his vision swimming as he turned his head toward her. Clarke’s face came into focus, her expression fierce but filled with concern.

“It’s not real,” she said firmly. Bellamy’s breathing was uneven, his chest heaving as he tried to pull himself back. Clarke kept her hand on his arm, her grip steady.

Bellamy closed his eyes, her words anchoring him. Slowly, he nodded, the tension in his body easing. “You’re right,” he murmured, his voice hoarse. “It’s not real.”

Gabriel’s voice broke the moment. “We’re here,” he said, his tone reverent.

Bellamy and Clarke turned toward him, following his gaze. Just beyond a thin brush of trees, the anomaly revealed itself. The swirling green light glowed brighter now, casting the woods in an almost hypnotic light. The vortex spun with impossible precision, its edges shimmering with energy that seemed alive.

Echo stepped forward, her usual stoicism giving way to awe. “Wow,” was all she could manage, her voice barely above a whisper.

Clarke took a step closer, her breath catching in her throat. The sight was both terrifying and mesmerizing, unlike anything she had ever seen. “That’s… incredible,” she said under her breath, the words slipping out without thought.

The group stood in silence for a moment, the enormity of the anomaly before them. Its hum was louder now, resonating in their bones, and the energy it gave off was almost tangible. Whatever answers they sought, Clarke knew, lay within.

Gabriel took a cautious step forward, glancing back at the group. “This is it,” he said. “We’re as close as we can get without going inside.”

Clarke’s gaze snapped to Hope, who had started moving slowly but deliberately to the side of the anomaly. Her steps were hesitant, as if in a trance, her lips moving as she murmured something under her breath. Clarke strained to hear, and then the words became clearer.

“Octavia,” Hope said softly, repeating the name like a mantra. “Octavia…”

Echo, standing closest to her, quickly moved toward Hope, her eyes narrowing. “Hope, stop,” Echo said firmly. “Come back—don’t go any closer.”

But Hope didn’t seem to hear her. Her movements became quicker, more urgent, as if something was pulling her toward the anomaly. Clarke’s heart pounded as she turned her attention to Octavia, who had also started walking toward the glowing vortex, her expression blank and distant.

“Octavia, stop!” Clarke shouted, but Octavia didn’t respond.

The wind whipped through the trees as the anomaly’s hum grew louder, its swirling light reflecting in Octavia’s wide, unblinking eyes. Bellamy was the first to react, his voice cutting through the chaos.

“O!” he yelled, his tone laced with panic. “Octavia, stop! What are you doing?”

But Octavia kept walking, the wind blowing her hair back as she moved closer to the anomaly. Her lips moved, and Clarke barely caught the word she murmured.

“Diyoza…”

Clarke’s stomach dropped as she exchanged a panicked look with Bellamy. “Octavia, stop!”

Bellamy didn’t hesitate. He bolted forward, sprinting toward his sister and grabbing her by the arm just as she reached the edge of the anomaly’s field. He pulled her back sharply, turning her to face him.

“Octavia!” he shouted, gripping her shoulders tightly. “Snap out of it! What are you doing?”

Octavia blinked, her focus slowly returning, but her face was pale, and her eyes were filled with something raw—something haunting. “Diyoza,” she whispered again, her voice trembling. “She has her kid.”

Bellamy frowned, his grip tightening. “What? What are you talking about?”

Octavia’s eyes flickered to Hope, who had stopped moving and was staring at her with wide, tear-filled eyes. “Hope,” Octavia said softly, her voice breaking. “You’re her kid. You’re Diyoza’s daughter.”

The group fell silent, the only sound the relentless hum of the anomaly and the wind swirling around them. Clarke’s heart raced as she processed Octavia’s words, her gaze shifting to Hope, whose expression was a mixture of shock and confusion.

“Diyoza… she had you,” Octavia continued, her voice cracking as if the words were breaking something loose in her memory. “She… she asked me to protect you.”

Gabriel stepped closer cautiously, his voice calm but urgent. “Octavia, do you remember this? Are the memories coming back?”

Octavia shook her head, tears spilling down her cheeks. “No. Not all of it. Just flashes. But I know it’s true. Hope is Diyoza’s daughter. I don’t know how I know, but I do.”

Hope’s legs gave out, and she collapsed to her knees, her hands trembling. “Diyoza,” she whispered, tears streaming down her face. “My mom… my mom’s name is Diyoza?”

Octavia knelt beside her, her hands shaking as she reached out to hold Hope’s. “Yes,” she said softly, her voice filled with both certainty and anguish. “She’s your mom. And… she’s out there. Somewhere.”

Clarke and the others stood frozen, the weight of the revelation settling over them like a storm. The anomaly’s light seemed to pulse, as if in response to the tension, its energy swirling in unpredictable patterns.

Clarke finally found her voice, her words quiet but firm. “We need to figure this out. If Diyoza is connected to the anomaly, if she’s out there… then we need to find her.”

Bellamy nodded, his jaw tight as he helped Octavia to her feet. “We will,” he said, his tone resolute. “But first, we need to make sure we don’t lose anyone else to this thing.”

As they stood near the glowing anomaly, the tension grew thicker, the hum louder, and the strange energy in the air more oppressive. Suddenly, without warning, a powerful invisible force slammed into Gabriel, sending him sprawling to the ground with a grunt of pain.

“Gabriel!” Clarke called out, rushing to his side. “Are you okay?”

Gabriel groaned, clutching his chest as he tried to sit up. “I—I think so,” he muttered, his voice strained. “But what the hell was that?”

Bellamy knelt beside him, scanning the area with narrowed eyes. “That was weird,” he muttered. “I don’t see anything—”

Before he could finish, another force struck Echo from the side, knocking her off her feet. She rolled to the ground, coughing and clutching at her ribs as she pushed herself up. “What the hell is going on?” she snapped, drawing her knife.

Octavia moved closer, her eyes darting around the clearing, her body tense and ready to fight. “I don’t see anything,” she said, her voice sharp. “But something’s out there.”

Clarke felt her heart racing as she instinctively reached for the gun in her thigh holster. Her grip was firm, her eyes scanning the space around them. “Stay alert,” she ordered, her voice calm but commanding. “Whatever this is, it’s fast—and it’s invisible.”

As the group formed a loose defensive circle, Clarke’s sharp ears picked up on a faint noise—a distorted shimmer in the air, almost like a ripple. Her instincts took over, and she raised her gun, firing in the direction of the sound.

The gunshot echoed through the clearing, and for a brief second, the air rippled and shimmered, revealing the faint outline of a figure. A groan followed, and then the shape fully materialized, collapsing to the ground with a heavy thud.

Clarke’s breath caught as she took in the sight of the man lying before her. He was dressed in a sleek, navy-blue suit made of a material that looked like advanced armor, reflecting the green glow of the anomaly. His helmet was crystalline, the surface refracting light in strange patterns, making it hard to see his face beneath.

“What the hell is that?” Octavia demanded, stepping closer, her knife still in hand.

Clarke approached cautiously, her gun still raised, her gaze locked on the figure. The man groaned, one hand clutching his side where her bullet had hit him, but he didn’t make any other movements.

Bellamy moved to her side, his voice low and sharp. “Who the hell is he?” he asked, glancing at Clarke. “And why is he attacking us?”

Gabriel, now back on his feet, stepped forward, his eyes wide with curiosity. “This technology…” he murmured, crouching down near the man’s armor but keeping a safe distance. “It’s… incredible. I’ve never seen anything like it. This isn’t Sanctum tech. It’s not even Eligius tech.”

“So where’s it from?” Echo asked, her voice laced with suspicion.

Gabriel shook his head. “I don’t know. But if I had to guess… he’s connected to the anomaly. He’s either protecting it—or trying to stop us from getting too close.”

“Protecting it?” Clarke repeated, her jaw tightening. “From what?”

Before Gabriel could answer, the man let out another groan, his helmet flickering slightly as he shifted. A distorted, crackling voice came through the helmet’s speakers. “You… shouldn’t… be here…”

Clarke stepped closer, her gun steady. “Why? What is this place?” she demanded. “What’s going on?”

The man didn’t answer directly, but his voice crackled again. “You’ve… disrupted… everything…”

Echo narrowed her eyes, stepping closer with her knife. “We should tie him up and figure out what the hell he knows.”

Clarke nodded, her mind racing. “Do it. We need answers.”

As Echo began securing the man’s hands, Clarke couldn’t shake the unease settling in her chest. The anomaly’s hum grew louder, almost like it was reacting to the man’s presence—or to their discovery of him. Whatever secrets the anomaly held, Clarke knew, they were walking deeper into something far more dangerous than they had anticipated.

–

The group moved carefully, the unconscious man carried between Bellamy and Gabriel as they made their way to Gabriel’s nearby tent, nestled within the woods not far from the anomaly. The hum of the anomaly still echoed faintly in the distance, but here, the air was quieter, save for the tension lingering among them.

Once inside the tent, they restrained the man to a sturdy chair, using rope to bind his hands and ankles. The dim lantern light, illuminating the figure in his advanced navy-blue suit. The group stood in a loose circle around him, their weapons still within easy reach.

Echo stepped forward, her knife in hand as she inspected the crystalline helmet. “Let’s see who we’re dealing with,” she said, her voice steady. She carefully removed the helmet, the crystal surface shimmering faintly as it came free.

Underneath, the man’s face was revealed—human, with sharp features, short dark hair, and an expression that flickered between exhaustion and defiance. His eyes fluttered open, squinting in the dim light, before landing on Clarke.

For a moment, he seemed stunned, his gaze fixed on her as though he were seeing a ghost. “You…” he said, his voice hoarse. “You’re the key.”

Clarke frowned, taking a step closer, her gun still in hand. “The key to what?” she demanded, her tone sharp.

The man didn’t answer immediately. His gaze shifted, scanning the room until it landed on Bellamy. His expression changed, his eyes narrowing slightly as though trying to piece something together. “And you…” he said slowly, his voice tinged with something unplaceable. “You’re the source.”

Octavia’s brow furrowed, and she exchanged a confused glance with Echo, who looked equally perplexed. “What the hell does that mean?” Octavia asked, her voice edged with frustration. “The source of what?”

Bellamy stepped closer, his jaw tight. “What are you talking about? Start making sense.”

The man chuckled faintly, though it was strained. “You don’t even know what you are,” he said, shaking his head. “What you carry. What both of you carry.”

Clarke’s chest tightened as she looked between the man and Bellamy. “You’re not answering the question,” she said firmly. “Who are you, and what do you mean I’m the key?”

The man’s gaze returned to her, his expression unreadable. “You’re the one it’s been waiting for,” he said cryptically. “You and him.” He nodded toward Bellamy. “You’re tied to the anomaly. To what’s on the other side.”

Gabriel stepped forward, his curiosity overtaking his caution. “What’s on the other side?” he asked. “What’s the anomaly connected to?”

The man’s eyes flickered toward Gabriel, but he didn’t answer. Instead, he leaned back in his chair, his demeanor strangely calm despite his restraints. “You shouldn’t have come here,” he said, his voice low. “You’ve already disrupted the balance.”

“What balance?” Clarke pressed, her frustration mounting. “What are you talking about?”

The man looked at her, his gaze almost pitying. “You’ll see soon enough,” he said simply.

Bellamy clenched his fists, stepping closer to the man, his patience running thin. “Enough of the cryptic bullshit. What do you mean by ‘source’? Why me? Why Clarke?”

The man tilted his head slightly, his calm demeanor never wavering. “You’re connected to it. Both of you. The anomaly… it reacts to you. It’s been waiting—for both of you.”

The room fell into a tense silence as everyone processed his words. Clarke’s heart pounded as she exchanged a glance with Bellamy, who looked equally unsettled.

Gabriel broke the silence, his voice laced with urgency. “If the anomaly is reacting to them, then they’re part of this. But we need specifics. What does it mean to be the ‘key’ or the ‘source’?”

The man smiled faintly, his eyes glinting with something almost like amusement. “It means,” he said softly, “that everything is about to change.”

Gabriel furrowed his brow, stepping closer to the restrained man, his scientific curiosity overcoming his caution. “What are you talking about?” Gabriel asked, his voice sharp but calm. “What does any of this have to do with Clarke and Bellamy?”

The man’s faint smirk returned, his eyes flickering toward Gabriel. “Ah, the scholar,” he said, his tone laced with a hint of mockery. “Always asking the right questions.”

Gabriel ignored the jab, crossing his arms. “Answer the question.”

The man’s gaze shifted, first to Clarke and then to Bellamy. “There is a passage,” he began, his voice low and deliberate, “written long before your Eligius missions, long before any of you set foot on this moon. A prophecy, if you will. It tells of a day when the anomaly will bring forth a man and a woman to unite the human race. To restore balance.”

Clarke felt a chill run down her spine, her grip tightening on her gun. “What does that mean?” she demanded. “What balance?”

The man tilted his head, his expression unreadable. “The anomaly isn’t just some random phenomenon. It’s… connected, alive in a way you can’t comprehend. It exists to maintain equilibrium, to correct what’s broken. And you…” He gestured toward Clarke with his restrained hands. “You are the key.”

He shifted his gaze to Bellamy. “And you are the source. The two of you are bound to it, whether you realize it or not.”

Bellamy’s jaw tightened, his fists clenching at his sides. “What do you mean by ‘source’?” he asked, his voice low and dangerous. “What am I supposed to be the source of?”

The man chuckled faintly, his voice almost pitying. “Of the balance, of course. You carry it within you. The connection between you and the anomaly—it’s not just a coincidence. It’s been guiding you both here for a reason.”

Gabriel’s eyes widened slightly as he processed the man’s words. “And this prophecy,” Gabriel said, his voice quiet but intense. “It says they’re supposed to unite the human race? How?”

The man’s smirk faded slightly, replaced with a more serious expression. “By bringing the human race back from the brink. By restoring what’s been lost. The anomaly isn’t just a doorway—it’s a tool, a means to rebuild. But only if it’s used properly. Only if the right balance is struck.”

Clarke exchanged a tense look with Bellamy, her mind racing. “And what happens if we don’t?” she asked, her voice steady despite the fear creeping into her chest.

The man’s eyes darkened, his voice dropping to a chilling tone. “Then everything falls apart. The anomaly… it doesn’t forgive imbalance. If you fail to fulfill your roles, it will correct itself—violently.”

The group fell silent, the weight of the man’s words pressing down on them. Clarke’s heart pounded as she tried to make sense of everything. The prophecy, the anomaly, the idea that she and Bellamy were somehow tied to it all—it was too much to process.

“This is insane,” Echo muttered, her voice laced with frustration. “You’re saying the anomaly chose them? That this is all some… cosmic plan?”

The man nodded slightly, his calm demeanor returning. “Exactly. You’ve all been playing a role since you were born, You just didn’t know it.”

Gabriel turned to Clarke and Bellamy, his expression thoughtful but wary. “If what he’s saying is true, then the anomaly brought you here for a reason. But why now? What’s changed?”

The man’s smirk returned, his eyes glinting. “Because the balance has already begun to shift. The pieces are in motion. And the two of you…” He looked between Clarke and Bellamy. “You’re at the center of it.”

Clarke’s grip on her gun tightened as she met Bellamy’s gaze. She could see the same mix of fear and determination in his eyes that she felt in her chest. Whatever this was, whatever role they were meant to play, they couldn’t back down now.

“We need answers,” Clarke said firmly, turning back to the man. “And you’re going to give them to us.”

The man, still restrained but seemingly unfazed, continued to speak, his tone steady and deliberate. “The anomaly isn’t just some phenomenon like I said before,” he said, his gaze shifting between Clarke and Bellamy. “It’s a wormhole—a passage through space and time, connecting distant worlds. It exists for a purpose, to ensure that humanity survives, even in the face of extinction.”

The group listened intently, their expressions a mix of confusion and intrigue. The man went on, his voice calm but carrying a weight that none of them could ignore. “The prophecy says that if the human race is ever on the brink of destruction, the anomaly will split humanity into groups, scattering them across different planets. Each group survives, thrives in their own way. And one day, when the time is right, a man and a woman—fearless leaders—will unite the human race once more. They’ll bring humanity back to where it all began. Back to Earth.”

Clarke shook her head, her voice sharp as she interjected. “Earth is gone,” she said firmly. “It was destroyed by a nuclear apocalypse over two centuries ago. And after that, the power plants left from the bombs burned it to the ground. There’s nothing left.”

The man turned his gaze to her, his expression unreadable. “You’re right,” he said. “Earth was destroyed. Humanity nearly wiped itself out. And yet…” He leaned forward slightly, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. “Life has a way of finding its path.”

Clarke frowned, her jaw tightening. “What are you saying? That Earth somehow recovered? That life returned?”

The man nodded slightly. “Exactly,” he said. “The anomaly connects to many worlds, but its purpose always leads back to Earth. Humanity’s birthplace. Its home. Life is resilient, Clarke Griffin. It doesn’t end. It adapts, grows, evolves. And now, the time has come for humanity to return.”

Bellamy stepped forward, his voice low and skeptical. “You’re saying it’s our job to bring humanity back together? To lead them back to Earth? That’s insane.”

“Is it?” the man asked, tilting his head. “You’ve been leaders your entire lives. You’ve made impossible choices, carried unbearable burdens. You’ve led your people through hell and back. This is why. This is what you’ve been preparing for.”

Clarke’s breath caught in her throat, the weight of his words pressing down on her. She glanced at Bellamy, whose expression mirrored her own unease. “Even if Earth is livable again,” she said slowly, “what makes you think humanity can come together? Every time we try, it ends in bloodshed.”

“Because it has to,” the man said simply. “Humanity has no choice. The anomaly ensures balance. If you don’t unite them, the anomaly will force it—through destruction or salvation. The choice is yours.”

Gabriel stepped closer, his voice full of urgency. “If this is true, why us? Why Clarke and Bellamy?”

“Because they’re the key and the source,” the man replied. “The anomaly reacts to them. They’re connected to it in ways even they don’t understand. Together, they can bring humanity back. Together, they can restore balance.”

The man’s calm demeanor didn’t waver as he continued, his words growing more cryptic and unsettling. “The key and the source don’t act alone,” he said, his gaze sweeping the group. “The prophecy speaks of four apprentices—individuals tied to them, chosen to walk this path alongside them. Together, they complete the balance.”

The group exchanged uneasy glances, the absurdity of the man’s claims sinking in. Bellamy frowned, crossing his arms. “So now we’re not just the key and the source,” he said dryly. “We’ve got apprentices too? You’re starting to sound like you’ve been out in the Red Sun a little too long.”

The silence was broken by Hope, her voice trembling but filled with determination. “Where is my mother?” she demanded, stepping closer to the restrained man. Her eyes were sharp, her fists clenched at her sides. “Where is Diyoza?”

The man turned his head toward Hope, his expression calm but calculating. “Diyoza is… safe,” he said slowly, his voice carrying a faint edge of mockery. “But only because of your agreement.”

Hope’s brow furrowed, her confusion evident. “What agreement?” she asked, her voice rising slightly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

The man tilted his head, as if studying her. “You don’t remember,” he said, almost to himself. “Convenient.”

Octavia stepped forward, her eyes narrowing. “What agreement?” she demanded, her tone sharp. “What is he talking about, Hope?”

The man chuckled faintly, his gaze shifting back to Octavia. “She traded you,” he said simply, his words a dagger cutting through the room. “For her mother.”

Octavia froze, her breath catching in her throat. “What?” she whispered, her voice barely audible. Her eyes snapped to Hope, searching her face for answers. “Hope, is that true?”

Hope’s face twisted with frustration and panic. “I—I don’t know!” she stammered, her voice breaking. “I don’t remember any of that. I don’t even remember being in the anomaly!”

The man smirked faintly. “Convenient,” he said again. “But it doesn’t change the truth. You made a deal—you, for her.”

Hope’s expression hardened as she turned back to him, her fists trembling. “If I made that deal, I don’t remember it,” she said, her voice firm now. “And I’m not giving up the two most important people to me.”

Octavia’s eyes softened, but the confusion and pain in them were still clear. “Hope,” she said quietly, “what’s going on? Why is he saying these things?”

“I don’t know,” Hope said, her voice wavering. “I don’t remember making any deal, Octavia. I swear. And even if I did… I wouldn’t do it now. I’m not giving you up. Or anyone.”

Bellamy, still standing close to Octavia, placed a steadying hand on her shoulder. “We’ll figure this out,” he said firmly, though his voice carried a quiet edge of anger. He turned to the man. “If you think we’re just going to hand over Octavia, you’re delusional.”

The man didn’t flinch, his calm demeanor unshaken. “It’s not about what you’ll do,” he said cryptically. “It’s about what the anomaly demands. What it always demands.”

The room plunged into chaos the moment Echo acted. In a single, calculated motion, she drew her knife and slit the man’s throat. His eyes widened in shock as he gurgled a breath, blood spilling down his chest, before slumping lifelessly in the chair.

Gabriel staggered back, his face contorted in disgust. “What the hell did you just do?” he exclaimed, his voice rising.

Bellamy, his eyes wide with shock and anger, rounded on Echo, grabbing her arm before she could sheath her knife. “Why the hell would you do that?” he yelled, his voice trembling with rage. “We needed him alive!”

Echo wrenched her arm free, her eyes blazing with defiance. “He was crazy, Bellamy!” she snapped, her voice sharp and unapologetic. “Did you hear him? All this talk about keys, sources, and apprentices? He was delusional. Keeping him alive was a liability.”

Clarke stood frozen, her gun still in her hand as she processed what had just happened. Her mind raced as she tried to make sense of Echo’s actions, but her voice finally broke through. “Echo, what the hell is going on with you? This isn’t how we handle things.”

Echo spun around to face Clarke, her expression cold but resolute. “This is how we handle things when the stakes are this high,” she said. “You heard him. He’s part of something bigger. If we let him live, he could’ve brought more of his people back here, and they could’ve started a war. I did what needed to be done.”

Bellamy’s jaw tightened, his fists clenching at his sides. “That’s not your call to make, Echo,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. “We were trying to get answers. You just killed the only person who knew what’s going on.”

Echo glared at him, her voice rising as she snapped back. “And what if he was lying? What if everything he said was just to mess with us, to distract us while more of his people came through the anomaly? We don’t know what he was capable of, Bellamy. I wasn’t going to risk it.”

Gabriel stepped forward, his voice cold and full of anger. “You didn’t have the right,” he said sharply. “He was restrained. He wasn’t a threat anymore. What you did wasn’t just reckless—it was wrong.”

Echo turned her glare to Gabriel, her voice like steel. “Spare me the moral lecture. You don’t know what it’s like to be in a war. Sometimes you have to make hard decisions.”

Clarke, still stunned, finally found her voice. “Echo, this isn’t just about him,” she said, her tone quieter but no less intense. “What’s going on with you?”

Echo’s jaw tightened, her eyes flickering with something Clarke couldn’t quite place—defensiveness? Fear? “I did what I had to do,” she said firmly. “That’s all there is to it.”

Echo’s expression hardened, her jaw clenched as she stared at Bellamy. “Screw you, Bellamy,” she snapped, her voice icy. “I did what I had to do. While you’re standing here arguing, we’re wasting time. We need to head back to Sanctum and prepare, in case more of them come through the anomaly.”

The group fell silent, her sharp words hanging in the air. Bellamy’s face twisted with a mix of anger and disbelief, but he didn’t respond immediately, his gaze locked on her as if trying to figure out what had caused this sudden shift in her.

Echo didn’t respond, instead turning toward the tent’s exit. “Let’s move,” she said curtly, her tone making it clear she was done with the discussion.

As the group exited the tent, tension thick in the air, Octavia leaned closer to Clarke, her voice a low whisper. “By the way,” she said, a hint of amusement laced with bitterness in her tone, “Bellamy and Echo are done. That’s probably why she’s been acting like a loose cannon.”

Clarke’s eyes widened, and she turned her head slightly to glance at Octavia, shock and confusion flashing across her face. “What?” she whispered back, her voice barely audible. “Why didn’t he tell me?”

Octavia shrugged, a smirk tugging at her lips. “Guess he didn’t think you needed to know. But trust me, it explains a lot.”

Clarke was reeling from the revelation, trying to process what Octavia had just said as they moved outside and began gathering their gear. Octavia, always quick with a sarcastic remark, muttered, “Of course, we’re walking back to Sanctum after that. Perfect end to a perfect day.”

Before Clarke could respond, a sharp bang echoed through the clearing. She felt it before she heard herself scream—a searing, unbearable pain shooting through her leg. Her knees buckled, and she collapsed to the ground, clutching her thigh as dark blood poured down her leg. The sound of her own scream filled her ears, followed by Bellamy’s panicked voice.

“Clarke!” Bellamy shouted, his voice breaking as he dropped to her side.

Clarke writhed on the ground, her breathing ragged and shallow as tears streamed down her face. “It hurts,” she gasped, her voice shaking. “Bellamy, it hurts.”

Octavia’s eyes darted around the clearing, her hand gripping her sword as she hissed, “We didn’t get all of them. There’s more here.”

Gabriel immediately ducked down, his voice urgent. “Everyone, get down! We’re exposed here!”

Bellamy pressed his hands firmly against Clarke’s leg, trying to staunch the bleeding. “You’re going to be okay,” he said, his voice trembling but determined. “Stay with me, Clarke. We’ll get you out of this.”

Clarke groaned in pain, her nails digging into the dirt as the blood soaked through Bellamy’s hands. The wound was deep, the bullet lodged somewhere in her thigh.

Echo, her face cold and focused, reached for Clarke’s gun in her thigh holster, pulling it free with precision. Without hesitation, she began firing toward the treeline, aiming at anything that moved. Her movements were quick and efficient, her eyes scanning the shadows for the hidden attackers.

“I don’t see them,” Echo growled, her voice tight with frustration as she fired another round. “But they’re out there.”

Octavia moved to Clarke’s other side, her sword drawn, her gaze sharp as she tried to spot the source of the attack. “We can’t stay here,” she said. “We’re sitting ducks.”

Gabriel crouched low beside Bellamy, glancing at Clarke’s wound. “We need to move her, but we can’t do it while they’re still shooting. We need cover.”

Bellamy’s voice was low but desperate as he applied more pressure to Clarke’s leg. “We’re not leaving her here.”

“No one’s leaving her,” Gabriel snapped. “But we won’t make it far unless we take out whoever’s shooting at us.”

Echo’s sharp gaze scanned the treeline as another figure moved, their presence barely visible except for the faint shimmer in the air. With precision honed from years of battle, she fired three quick shots. The first missed, but the second and third hit their marks. The air rippled, and a body slumped to the ground, its advanced suit materializing as the figure fell. Another shimmer caught her eye, and she pivoted, firing again. Another body hit the ground.

The clearing fell silent, save for the hum of the anomaly in the distance and Clarke’s labored breathing. Echo lowered the gun, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she scanned for any remaining threats. When no more movement came, she turned back toward the group.

“They’re down,” Echo said curtly, her voice steady but laced with tension. “All of them.”

Bellamy barely registered her words, his focus entirely on Clarke, who lay trembling on the ground, her leg soaked with blood. He pressed harder against her wound, his hands slick and red as he tried to stem the bleeding. “You’re going to be okay,” he said softly, his voice cracking as he looked into her eyes. “Just hold on, Clarke. We’ll get you patched up.”

Clarke’s face was pale, and her breaths came in short, shallow gasps. Despite the pain, she managed to nod weakly. “Bellamy,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” Bellamy said firmly, his voice thick with emotion. “You’re going to be fine. I promise.”

Octavia, standing nearby with her sword still drawn, surveyed the bodies now scattered around the clearing. The advanced suits shimmered faintly, then fully materialized as the technology deactivated. She stepped closer to one of the bodies, her expression hardening as she inspected it.

“They’re after us,” she said flatly, turning to face the group. “This wasn’t random. They knew we were here.”

Gabriel knelt beside one of the bodies, his face a mixture of curiosity and dread as he studied the armor. “They’re not just soldiers,” he said, his voice low. “This technology is advanced—far beyond anything Sanctum or Eligius had. If they’re connected to the anomaly, they’re not going to stop.”

Echo stepped closer, her grip on the gun tightening. “Which is why I did what needed to be done,” she said, her tone sharp. “If we hadn’t taken them out, we’d all be dead right now.”

Gabriel’s voice broke through the tense silence as he knelt beside Clarke, his hands moving quickly to assess her wound. “We can’t move her to Sanctum like this,” he said, his tone firm but urgent. “She’s losing too much blood. We’ll head back to the tent temporarily.”

Bellamy nodded, his hand still pressing down on Clarke’s leg to slow the bleeding. His face was pale, his voice tight. “How far is the tent?”

“Not far,” Gabriel replied, glancing around at the others. “We’ll carry her. Once we’re there, I can use what I have to stabilize her. Then we can get her to Sanctum for surgery.”

Clarke groaned, her voice weak as she whispered, “Just… don’t drop me.”

Bellamy gave her a small, strained smile, his hand brushing her hair back gently. “Not a chance.”

Gabriel continued, his tone sharper now. “I also have more weapons stashed there. We’ll need them if there are more of those people out there.”

Echo stepped forward, her eyes scanning the treeline for any signs of movement. “Hope and I will take watch,” she said, her voice steady and commanding. “If anyone else shows up, we’ll deal with them. Bellamy and Octavia, focus on helping Clarke. Move quickly, but don’t make her injuries worse.”

Hope nodded, her expression serious but nervous. “I’ll stay close to the perimeter. Just shout if you need me.”

Octavia knelt beside Clarke, her hand on her shoulder. “We’ve got you,” she said softly, her voice carrying a rare note of comfort. “Just hold on a little longer.”

Clarke gave her a faint nod, though her face was pale and strained. “I’m… trying,” she muttered.

Bellamy and Octavia carefully positioned themselves on either side of Clarke, preparing to lift her. Gabriel quickly tied a makeshift tourniquet around her upper leg to slow the bleeding further. “We need to be careful,” he warned. “Any sudden movement could make it worse.”

As Bellamy and Octavia lifted Clarke, her soft groan of pain cut through the air, making Bellamy wince. “I’m sorry, Clarke,” he murmured. “We’ll get you there as fast as we can.”

Echo tightened her grip on Clarke’s gun, now in her hand, her sharp eyes scanning the area. “Let’s move,” she said firmly. “Stay close. No one gets separated.”

As they pushed through the flap of Gabriel’s tent, the group moved quickly. The long table in the center of the tent was cleared off in a flurry of motion, anything not essential shoved aside to make room for Clarke. Bellamy and Octavia carefully lowered her onto the table, trying to minimize the jarring movement, though Clarke still let out a sharp cry of pain as her injured leg shifted.

Gabriel was already at work, gathering supplies from a worn but well-stocked medical kit. He pulled out a small bag of IV fluid, quickly setting up a IV stand. After sanitizing her arm, he inserted the needle into Clarke’s vein with practiced efficiency. “This will help keep you from going into shock,” he said, his voice calm but clipped with urgency.

Clarke nodded weakly, her face pale and covered in a sheen of sweat. Her breaths were shallow, and the pain was etched deeply into her features. “Do… whatever you have to,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

Gabriel glanced at her, his expression softening slightly. “Clarke,” he said gently, but firmly. “We don’t have any anesthesia here. That’s all in Sanctum. This is going to hurt—badly—but I’ll try to be as fast as I can.”

Clarke swallowed hard, blinking up at him, then gave a faint nod. “Just… do it,” she said, her voice trembling.

Gabriel nodded back, his face a mask of concentration as he turned to Octavia. “Cut away the area of the wound from her jeans,” he instructed. “We need to fully expose the wound to clean it and get the bullet out.”

Octavia hesitated for only a moment before grabbing a knife from her belt. She moved quickly, slicing through the fabric of Clarke’s jeans with practiced precision. The torn material peeled back to reveal the blood-soaked wound on Clarke’s upper thigh. Dark blood oozed steadily from the injury, staining the table beneath her.

Bellamy, standing at Clarke’s head, placed a hand on her shoulder, his grip firm but comforting. “You’re going to get through this,” he said, his voice low and steady. “Just keep your focus on me, okay? Don’t think about anything else.”

Clarke looked up at him, her pain-filled eyes locking with his. “I’m trying,” she whispered, her voice trembling.

Echo, standing by the tent flap with Hope, kept her attention on the outside, her weapon ready. “I don’t see anyone,” she said quietly. “But we need to move fast, just in case.”

Gabriel glanced at Echo and gave a curt nod before focusing back on Clarke. He pulled on a pair of gloves and leaned over the wound. “Alright,” he said. “I’m going to clean the area first. Octavia, Bellamy—keep her as still as you can. This is going to hurt.”

Clarke clenched her jaw, bracing herself as Gabriel began cleaning the wound with antiseptic. She couldn’t hold back the sharp gasp of pain that tore from her throat, her hands gripping the edge of the table so tightly her knuckles turned white.

Bellamy leaned closer, his voice low and soothing. “You’re okay, Clarke. You’re strong. You’ve got this.”

As Gabriel carefully inserted the metal forceps into Clarke’s wound, her body tensed, and she let out a choked sob, her tears spilling freely down her face. The pain was excruciating, raw and sharp, radiating through her entire leg. She couldn’t help but cry out, her hands gripping the edge of the table before Bellamy caught one of them in his own.

“Clarke,” Bellamy said softly, his voice trembling as he held her hand tightly. “I’m here. Just hold on. You’re going to be okay.”

She squeezed his hand with what little strength she had, her tears making her vision blur. “It hurts,” she whimpered, her voice breaking. “It hurts so much.”

Bellamy’s throat tightened, his heart aching as he watched her in agony. He leaned closer, his forehead nearly touching hers. “I know it does,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “You can do this. I’m not letting go.”

Octavia stood at Clarke’s side, her hands firmly pressing down on Clarke’s uninjured leg and shoulders to keep her from moving. “Stay still, Clarke,” she said, her tone steady but filled with quiet sympathy. “I know it’s bad, but Gabriel’s almost there. You just have to hold on.”

Gabriel worked with precision, his face a mask of concentration as he maneuvered the forceps deeper into the wound. “I can see the bullet,” he said, his voice calm despite the tension in the room. “Just a little further.”

Clarke let out another sharp cry as the tool shifted inside her leg, her nails digging into Bellamy’s hand. Bellamy’s jaw clenched, a mixture of anger and helplessness burning in his chest. “Gabriel, hurry,” he said, his tone edged with desperation. “She can’t take much more.”

“I’m going as fast as I can,” Gabriel replied, his voice firm but steady. “I need her still, or this could get worse.”

Clarke sobbed again, her breaths coming in short, ragged gasps as the pain overwhelmed her. Bellamy’s hand gripped hers tighter, his voice breaking as he murmured, “I’m sorry, Clarke. I’m so sorry.”

Octavia’s grip on Clarke remained firm, her expression steely as she glanced at Gabriel. “You’re almost there, right? Tell me you’re almost there.”

Gabriel nodded sharply, his hand steady as he adjusted the forceps one final time. “I’ve got it,” he said, his voice tinged with relief as he carefully extracted the bullet. The small, blood-coated projectile clinked as he dropped it into a metal dish. “It’s out.”

Clarke let out a shaky, relieved sob, her body going limp as the unbearable pressure in her leg eased slightly. Bellamy’s hand stayed locked with hers, his thumb brushing over her knuckles as he whispered, “You did it, Clarke. You’re okay.”

Gabriel immediately began cleaning the wound, applying antiseptic and pressing gauze to stem the bleeding. “I’ll stitch her up and get her stabilized,” he said, his tone more controlled now. “We’ve stopped the worst of it, but we need to get her to Sanctum soon for proper care.”

Octavia released her hold on Clarke, brushing a hand lightly over her shoulder. “You did good, Clarke,” she said softly, her voice carrying an unexpected warmth. “We’ve got you.”

Clarke blinked up at them, her face pale and exhausted, but her grip on Bellamy’s hand didn’t waver. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Bellamy nodded, his face etched with concern and lingering anger. He glanced at Gabriel. “Get her patched up. Then we’re getting out of here. No one’s taking another shot at her.”

The group remained on edge, but in that moment, their focus was singular: Clarke’s survival. And for now, that was enough.

–

Clarke blinked slowly, her vision swimming as she tried to make sense of her surroundings. The faint beeping of a monitor filled the air, and the sterile smell of antiseptic confirmed what her foggy mind was beginning to piece together: she was in Sanctum’s medical bay. The last thing she remembered was the searing pain in her leg and Gabriel giving orders. Everything after that was a blur.

She shifted slightly, grimacing as a dull ache radiated from her thigh. Looking down, she saw an IV line taped to her arm, the clear fluid dripping steadily. Her leg was wrapped in clean bandages, elevated slightly on a pillow. The room was dim, but soft light filtered in from a small window, giving her just enough visibility to notice the figure slumped at the edge of her bed.

Bellamy.

His head rested on the edge of the mattress, his arms crossed underneath it as he slept. His breathing was steady, and the faint rise and fall of his shoulders was oddly comforting. Clarke’s heart skipped a beat as she realized he had stayed with her. She bit her lip, a faint blush creeping across her cheeks as warmth spread through her chest.

She studied him for a moment, the way his hair fell slightly into his face, the lines of worry etched into his features even in sleep. She thought of everything they’d been through, all the times they had fought for each other and for their people. And now, even after everything, he was here, watching over her.

Clarke’s hand moved instinctively, her fingers brushing lightly against his. Bellamy stirred slightly at the contact, his eyes fluttering open. For a moment, he seemed disoriented, but when his gaze landed on her, his face softened with relief.

“Clarke,” he said quietly, his voice hoarse from sleep. He sat up quickly, leaning closer to her. “You’re awake.”

She gave him a small, tired smile. “Yeah,” she murmured. “I think I passed out. What… what happened?”

Bellamy exhaled, running a hand through his hair as he leaned back slightly. “You scared the hell out of us,” he admitted. “Gabriel had us carry you back to Sanctum on a stretcher. You were in and out for most of it. But we got you here, and they patched you up. You’ve been out for a while.”

Clarke frowned slightly. “How long?”

“Almost a full day,” he said, his voice soft. “They said you needed the rest.”

She nodded slowly, her eyes flicking back to the IV in her arm. “Thank you,” she said quietly, her voice trembling slightly. “For staying.”

Bellamy’s lips quirked into a faint smile, though his eyes were still shadowed with worry. “Of course I stayed,” he said simply. “I wasn’t going to leave you alone.”

Clarke’s cheeks warmed again, but she managed a soft laugh. “You’re a terrible pillow, by the way.”

Bellamy chuckled, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. “Noted. Next time, I’ll bring a chair.”

As their laughter faded, a comfortable silence settled between them. Clarke’s exhaustion was still evident, but for the first time since the chaos began, she felt safe. Bellamy reached out, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. His touch was gentle, and the look in his eyes made her heart ache in a way she hadn’t allowed herself to feel in a long time.

Clarke shifted slightly in the bed, wincing as a sharp ache radiated from her leg. She turned her gaze to Bellamy, her voice still soft but filled with concern. “Has there been… any more attacks? Since what happened out there?”

Bellamy leaned back in his chair, rubbing the back of his neck. “No,” he said, his voice steady but cautious. “It’s been dead silent. patrol around the anomaly, and we’ve had people watching the perimeter. So far, nothing’s come through.”

Clarke frowned, her mind racing. “Do you think they’re regrouping? Waiting for the right moment?”

Bellamy sighed, his expression serious. “Could be. Or maybe we got lucky, and they’ve backed off. Either way, we’re not taking any chances. Patrols are up 24/7. We’ve been doubling shifts to make sure Sanctum stays secure.”

Clarke nodded slowly, processing his words. After a moment, she shifted the conversation. “What about Sanctum?” she asked. “Has there been… any more trouble? Are the Prime followers still causing problems?”

Bellamy’s expression softened slightly, though a hint of weariness lingered in his eyes. “Murphy and Emori have been keeping the peace,” he said. “They’re still playing the fake Primes, and for now, it’s working. The Prime followers are calmer when they think their gods are still in charge. But it’s a balancing act, Clarke. One wrong move, and it could all fall apart.”

Clarke exhaled, her gaze drifting to the ceiling. “I hate that we have to lie to them,” she admitted. “But I guess we don’t have a choice.”

Bellamy nodded, leaning forward slightly. “You don’t have to carry all of this, Clarke. We’ve got it under control for now. You just need to focus on getting better.”

Clarke glanced back at him, her expression softening. “I’m not used to sitting back and doing nothing,” she said with a faint, dry laugh. “You know that.”

Bellamy gave her a small smile. “I know. But you almost died out there. Take the time to heal. We’ll handle everything else.”

She hesitated, then nodded. “Alright,” she said quietly. “But if something happens—anything—you’ll tell me?”

“Of course,” Bellamy said firmly. “You’ll be the first to know.”

Clarke sighed, her head sinking back into the pillow. For now, things seemed stable, but the silence after the attack felt ominous. She hated being sidelined, but she knew Bellamy was right—she needed to heal. And she trusted him, more than anyone, to keep things together while she recovered.

Chapter Text

Clarke sat in her room, her injured leg propped up on a cushion, the chair pulled close to the small desk she’d managed to set up near the window. In her hands was a pencil, moving slowly over a piece of paper as she sketched the distant treeline visible from Sanctum. It was the first time in what felt like ages that she’d taken a moment to simply be. The quiet was strange, almost unnerving, but she welcomed it. Sanctum had been peaceful since the attack, patrols diligently guarding the perimeter, and for the first time, it felt like they could breathe.

The knock on her door pulled her from her thoughts. “Come in,” she called, setting the pencil down.

The two glass doors slid open to reveal Bellamy, holding a small tray with two steaming cups of tea. He stepped inside, the corner of his mouth lifting in a small smile. “I figured you could use a break,” he said, walking toward her.

Clarke chuckled softly, leaning back in her chair. “You’ve been keeping me on tea and rest like I’m a frail old woman.”

“Not a frail old woman,” Bellamy said, setting the tray on the table beside her. “Just someone who’s terrible at sitting still.”

She gave him a mock glare but couldn’t help the smile that followed. “I’m healing. You don’t have to babysit me.”

He shrugged, handing her one of the cups before pulling a chair over to sit beside her. “I’m not babysitting. I’m making sure you don’t get up and do something stupid before you’re ready.”

Clarke rolled her eyes, taking a careful sip of the tea. The warmth spread through her, soothing and comforting. “You’ve been here the most,” she said after a moment, her voice softer now. “Day and night. You didn’t have to.”

Bellamy leaned back in his chair, his own tea untouched in his hands. “Of course I did,” he said simply. “You scared the hell out of me, Clarke. I wasn’t going to leave you alone after that.”

Her chest tightened at his words, and she looked down at her tea, her voice quiet. “Thank you.”

They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, the tension easing as they listened to the faint sounds of Sanctum beyond the doors. Bellamy finally broke the quiet, nodding toward the paper on her desk. “What were you working on?”

Clarke glanced at the sketch, her lips quirking into a small smile. “Just drawing,” she said. “It’s been a while. Thought I’d try to clear my head.”

Bellamy looked at her, his gaze lingering. “You should do it more,” he said quietly. “It suits you.”

Her heart fluttered at the sincerity in his tone, and she glanced at him, their eyes meeting. For a moment, the weight of everything—Sanctum, the anomaly, the attack—seemed to fade, leaving only the two of them in the quiet.

Clarke’s gaze drifted toward the window as she set her tea down. The faint light of the evening sun cast long shadows over Sanctum. From her vantage point, she could see the clusters of tents where Wonkru and the Eligius prisoners had been camping. Campfires flickered in the growing darkness, and figures moved about, working to maintain some sense of order in their temporary homes.

Her chest tightened as she watched them, the familiar pull of responsibility gnawing at her. “I should be out there,” she said quietly, her voice tinged with guilt. “Helping them. They’ve been through so much, and I’m just… sitting here.”

Bellamy followed her gaze, his expression softening. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his tea forgotten on the table. “Clarke,” he said gently, “you’ve done more than anyone. You don’t have to carry everything on your shoulders all the time.”

She turned back to him, her brows furrowing. “But they’re still living in tents,” she argued. “It’s been over a week since the attack, and nothing’s changed for them. They deserve better, Bellamy. And I can’t just sit here while they’re out there, struggling.”

Bellamy sighed, his eyes meeting hers. “I get it,” he said, his voice steady but kind. “You feel like you have to fix everything. But right now, you’re healing. You can’t help anyone if you push yourself too hard and end up back in that medical bay.”

Clarke frowned, her fingers tracing the rim of her tea cup. “It just feels… wrong,” she admitted. “Sitting here, drawing, drinking tea, while they’re out there rebuilding their lives. It’s not who I am.”

Bellamy’s lips quivered into a faint smile. “I know it’s not. But sometimes, being a leader means knowing when to step back. You’ve been through hell, Clarke. You almost died. It’s okay to let the rest of us take care of things for a while.”

Clarke hesitated, her gaze dropping to her lap. “But what if I’m not doing enough?” she whispered.

Bellamy leaned closer, his voice soft but firm. “You’ve done enough. More than enough. No one doubts how much you’ve sacrificed, Clarke. But right now, the best thing you can do for them—for all of us—is to take care of yourself. When you’re ready, you’ll be back out there. And we’ll need you when that happens.”

She looked up at him, her eyes searching his face. There was no judgment there, only understanding and an unwavering belief in her. Her shoulders relaxed slightly, though the guilt still lingered.

Clarke let out a soft sigh, shifting in her chair before trying to push herself up. Her movements were slow, deliberate, and Bellamy was instantly on his feet, stepping toward her. “Here, let me help,” he said, his voice full of concern.

“I’ve got it,” Clarke said gently, raising a hand to stop him. She steadied herself on her crutches and carefully made her way across the room toward her bed. Each step was a reminder of the lingering pain, her hand instinctively pressing against her thigh near the wound. She let out another quiet sigh as she sat down on the edge of the bed, her fingers brushing over the bandages beneath her pants.

Bellamy watched her with a mixture of frustration and concern, his arms crossed as he stood a few feet away. “Clarke,” he said after a moment, his voice softer now. “Let me see it.”

Clarke looked up at him, her brows knitting together. “It’s fine, Bellamy,” she said, though the tension in her voice betrayed her. “Gabriel already checked it yesterday.”

“That was yesterday,” Bellamy countered, stepping closer. “You’re still holding it like it hurts. If something’s wrong, we need to know now, not later.”

Clarke hesitated, her lips pressing into a thin line. She knew he was right, but the vulnerability of letting someone else see her like this still made her hesitate. After a moment, she sighed, nodding. “Fine,” she relented, her voice quiet. “But only because you’ll just keep pestering me otherwise.”

Bellamy gave her a small, relieved smile, pulling over a chair to sit in front of her. “Alright,” he said, his tone gentle. “Let me help.”

Clarke carefully pulled up the fabric of her pants leg, revealing the bandages wrapped around her upper thigh. The area around the wound was still red and tender, though it looked cleaner than she expected. She winced slightly as Bellamy leaned in to examine it.

“Does this hurt?” he asked, his fingers hovering just above the bandages, careful not to touch her without permission.

“A little,” Clarke admitted, her voice tight. “But it’s better than it was.”

As Bellamy’s hand brushed against her thigh while he carefully adjusted the bandage, Clarke felt warmth creep up her neck and cheeks. She tried to focus on the rhythm of her breathing, on the practical nature of what he was doing, but it didn’t stop the subtle flutter in her chest.

It wasn’t supposed to feel this way, but it did. And not in a bad way—in a way that caught her off guard, made her feel more exposed than any wound ever could.

Bellamy, for his part, seemed entirely focused on the task at hand, his fingers steady as he smoothed the bandages into place. “This should hold better now,” he said, his tone calm and matter-of-fact. He glanced up, his expression softening when he noticed the faint flush on Clarke’s cheeks. “You okay?”

Clarke quickly averted her gaze, her fingers brushing over her hair in an attempt to compose herself. “Yeah,” she said, her voice a little higher-pitched than she intended. Clearing her throat, she added, “Just… sore, that’s all.”

Bellamy studied her for a moment, his eyes searching her face as if trying to decipher something unsaid. Then he gave her a small, reassuring smile. “You’re tough,” he said softly, his tone carrying more weight than the words themselves. “You’ll be back on your feet in no time.”

“Thanks,” Clarke murmured, finally meeting his eyes. The intensity of his gaze made her heart skip a beat, and for a fleeting moment, she wondered if he could sense the shift in her.

Bellamy leaned back slightly, giving her space as he set the bandage wrap aside. “You should rest,” he said, his voice a little quieter now. “I’ll check in on you later.”

Clarke nodded, grateful for the reprieve, though part of her didn’t want him to leave. “Okay,” she said, offering him a small smile. “Thanks, Bellamy.”

He stood, his movements unhurried, and gave her one last look before heading toward the door. “Don’t overdo it,” he said, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “You’re terrible at following orders.”

Clarke chuckled softly, the sound helping to steady her nerves. “I’ll try,” she said, watching as he slid the glass doors closed behind him.

As the room fell silent, she let out a slow breath, her fingers brushing over the freshly wrapped bandage. The warmth from his touch lingered, and despite everything—the chaos, the uncertainty—she felt a small spark of something she hadn’t allowed herself to feel in a long time: hope.

–

As the suns set and Sanctum grew quieter, Clarke finally put the finishing touches on the drawing she had been working on all day. It was Bellamy—his strong features, the way his eyes carried so much emotion, and the faint smile she always found so rare but so meaningful. She stared at the image, her heart racing. She hadn’t meant to draw him, not at first, but somehow it had turned into this. Her thoughts kept drifting back to him, and she couldn’t help but feel a mix of warmth and uncertainty.

A sudden knock on her door startled her, and Clarke quickly closed the sketchbook, setting it aside. “Come in,” she called, her voice steady as she tried to mask her nervousness.

The doors slid open, and Bellamy stepped inside, carrying a tray of food. The warm glow of the lanterns lit his face as he walked over to her. “Brought you some supper,” he said, placing the tray on the table beside her. “Thought you might be hungry.”

“Thanks,” Clarke said softly, smiling up at him. She glanced at the tray, noting the mix of vegetables she recognized from Earth and some unfamiliar foods that must have been native to the moon. She reached for the plate, the smell making her realize just how hungry she was.

Bellamy sat down in the chair across from her, his arms resting on his knees. “Raven, Murphy, and Emori want to stop by later,” he said. “If that’s okay with you.”

Clarke nodded, picking up a fork. “That’s fine,” she said, spearing a piece of roasted vegetable. “It’ll be good to see them.”

Bellamy leaned back slightly, watching her with a faint smile as she began to eat. “That one,” he said, gesturing to a round, purple vegetable on her plate. “It’s native to this moon. Gabriel said it’s packed with nutrients, but Murphy claims it tastes like dirt.”

Clarke chuckled, taking a small bite of it. The taste was earthy but not unpleasant, with a slightly sweet aftertaste. “Murphy exaggerates,” she said, smiling. “It’s not bad.”

Bellamy smirked, leaning forward again. “Don’t tell him that. He’ll insist it’s poisonous just to avoid eating it.”

Clarke laughed, the sound light and genuine, and for a moment, the tension she’d been carrying all day eased. They fell into an easy rhythm, Bellamy occasionally teasing her about her picky eating habits on Earth and Clarke defending herself with playful jabs about his “survival food” concoctions.

As she ate, Clarke couldn’t help but feel grateful for the quiet moment. Bellamy had a way of making even the simplest interactions feel meaningful, and despite everything, she felt a little less burdened when he was around. As she finished her meal, she caught herself glancing at the closed sketchbook on the desk, her heart skipping a beat.

After supper, Clarke leaned back in her chair, her hands wrapped around the now-empty cup of tea. The room was quiet except for the faint hum of Sanctum’s energy outside, and the soft glow of the lanterns gave everything a warm, peaceful atmosphere.

Bellamy stayed in his chair, his elbows resting on his knees as he watched her with a faint smile. “It’s strange to think how much has changed since we came down in that dropship,” he said after a moment. “Feels like a lifetime ago.”

Clarke chuckled softly, her eyes drifting to the window. “It really does. We were so… unprepared,” she said, a hint of fondness in her voice. 

Clarke smiled, her heart lighter as they fell into the easy rhythm of their memories. “And you were the one who taught me how to shoot. You were so bossy.”

Bellamy smirked. “You needed someone to be bossy. You were too busy trying to keep everyone from killing each other.”

They both laughed, the sound soft and genuine, filling the room with a warmth Clarke hadn’t felt in a long time. After a moment, the laughter faded, and Clarke’s expression grew more thoughtful. She set her cup down on the table and glanced at Bellamy.

“My dad would’ve loved Earth,” she said quietly, her voice tinged with both sadness and warmth. “He always talked about what it must’ve been like. The open skies, the fresh air… He used to say that just standing on real ground would make it all worth it.”

Bellamy’s gaze softened. “What was he like?” he asked, his voice low and careful, as though not wanting to disturb the memory.

Clarke smiled faintly, her eyes distant as she thought about her father. “He was kind. He had this way of making everything seem okay, even when it wasn’t. He believed in honesty, in doing the right thing, no matter what. That’s why he couldn’t stay quiet about the Ark’s oxygen system failing. He couldn’t stand the thought of people dying without a chance to fight for their lives.”

Bellamy nodded, his expression thoughtful. “Sounds like he was a good man.”

“He was,” Clarke said softly. “He used to play these old Earth recordings for me. I think he wanted me to feel connected to a world he never got to see.”

Bellamy leaned forward slightly, his eyes searching hers. “You’re a lot like him,” he said gently. “You fight for what’s right. You keep people together, even when it feels impossible.”

Clarke’s throat tightened, and she looked down at her hands. “I just hope he’d be proud of me,” she said softly. “Sometimes I wonder if I’ve done enough. If I’ve made the right choices.”

Bellamy reached out, his hand brushing hers briefly before pulling back. “He’d be proud of you, Clarke,” he said firmly. “I know I am.”

She looked up at him, her heart aching at the sincerity in his voice. “Thanks, Bellamy,” she said quietly, her lips curving into a faint smile.

Clarke sighed softly as she struggled to push herself up from her chair, her injured leg aching as she moved. Bellamy immediately stood, his hands half-extended to help her, but she shook her head, managing a small smile. “I’ve got it,” she said, her voice steady but tired. “I’m probably going to take a bath before Raven, Murphy, and Emori come by.”

Bellamy nodded, his concern still evident in his expression. “Alright,” he said. “If you need anything, just call me.”

Clarke gave him a faint smile, grabbing her crutches and carefully making her way across the room. Each step was deliberate, and though she winced slightly, she was determined to manage on her own. She opened the door to the adjoining bathroom, stepping inside and pausing as she took in the space.

The bathroom was unlike anything she had seen before, a stark contrast to the utilitarian facilities she was used to. On the Ark, water had been precious, and showers were quick, limited to conserving every last drop. In Arkadia, the communal bathrooms were practical but plain, meant for efficiency rather than comfort. Even Mount Weather, with its advanced technology, hadn’t had anything quite like this.

Here, the walls were lined with dark stone that shimmered faintly in the warm light, accented with intricate gold trim that glinted like firelight. The bathtub was enormous, carved from a smooth black rock, its edges polished to a gleaming finish. Across from it, a spacious shower was enclosed in glass with gold accents, the fixtures looking almost too ornate to use.

Clarke ran her hand over the cool edge of the tub, marveling at its size and elegance. “The Primes really did live like royalty,” she murmured to herself, shaking her head.

She couldn’t help but think back to the stark differences in her life. On Polis, bathing had meant using buckets or small metal tubs, the process more of a chore than a comfort. Even when they’d first landed on Earth, water had been precious, and hygiene often took a backseat to survival. Now, standing in a room that looked like it belonged in a palace, Clarke felt a strange mix of awe and guilt.

She adjusted her crutches, leaning them against the wall before carefully easing herself to the edge of the tub. The thought of soaking in warm water, even for a short while, sounded like heaven. Turning the gold knobs, she watched as water poured into the tub, steam rising as the bath filled.

As she waited, Clarke glanced around, taking in every detail. This wasn’t just luxury—it was extravagance. A reminder of how the Primes had lived in stark contrast to the people they ruled. The thought made her chest tighten slightly, but she pushed it aside, focusing instead on the simple idea of allowing herself this moment.

As Clarke carefully shed her clothes, folding them neatly on a nearby bench, she glanced at her reflection in the polished gold mirror. The faint scars from past battles traced across her skin, a reminder of everything she had endured. She sighed softly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear before turning back to the tub.

She tested the water with her hand, the warmth spreading through her fingers and coaxing a small sigh of relief from her lips. Slowly, she stepped in, mindful of her injured leg, and sank into the bath. The warm water enveloped her, soothing her aching muscles and washing away the tension she had carried since the attack. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, Clarke allowed herself to let go.

The faint scent of herbs and oils, likely infused into the water by the Primes’ extravagant system, filled the air, calming her further. She leaned her head back against the smooth edge of the tub, her hair spilling over her shoulders as she closed her eyes.

For a brief moment, the chaos of her life faded away. There were no patrols, no anomaly, no attacks—just the quiet hum of the room and the gentle ripple of the water around her. Her mind wandered, touching on fragments of memories—happier times on Earth, fleeting moments of laughter with her friends, and even the rare, stolen moments of quiet with Bellamy.

She smiled faintly at the thought of him, his unwavering presence over the past week and a half bringing her more comfort than she cared to admit. He’d been there through everything, always steady, always dependable. Her fingers brushed absently against the water’s surface, her thoughts lingering on his voice, the way he had looked at her earlier with so much concern and care.

Shaking her head, Clarke exhaled slowly, pushing the thoughts aside. Right now, she didn’t need to figure out what those feelings meant. All she wanted was this—this rare, fleeting moment of peace.

The warm water wrapped around her like a cocoon, and for the first time in weeks, she felt a sense of calm. It wouldn’t last—she knew that. But for now, she let herself be still, her body and mind resting in the quiet luxury of the moment.

Clarke took the clean rag Sanctum had provided, dipping it into the warm water and running it gently over her skin. The soap smelled fresh, almost like the forests of Earth she remembered so vividly. It was soothing, but only for a moment. As she lathered the shampoo into her hair, the richness of it made her realize how different this was from any luxury she had ever known. She couldn’t help but think about how absurd it felt to enjoy something so simple when the weight of everything threatened to crush her.

She rinsed her hair, sighing softly at how soft it felt—a luxury she hadn’t experienced in far too long. Leaning back in the tub, she hugged her knees to her chest, resting her chin against them as her thoughts began to spiral.

The anxiety and stress she’d been holding back all day began to creep in. Everything depended on her, and yet nothing felt in her control anymore. The threat from the anomaly, the fragile peace in Sanctum, the looming presence of Wonkru and the Eligius prisoners—every piece of it felt like a ticking time bomb. Her heart clenched at the thought of something going wrong again.

Her mind drifted to Shallow Valley. The memory of pulling that first trigger played out in her head like a cruel echo. What if I hadn’t taken the first shot? she thought. What if I’d found another way? Could things have been different? Could everyone have lived in peace?

The questions she had asked herself so many times before resurfaced with fresh intensity. If she hadn’t made that choice, maybe they wouldn’t have had to leave Earth. Harper and Monty would still be alive, raising their son. Maybe she wouldn’t have endured the trauma of Josie taking over her body, or the crushing guilt of her mother’s death. Her mind spiraled further as the weight of it all settled like a stone in her chest.

Tears began to blur her vision, spilling down her cheeks and mixing with the water. Clarke buried her face against her knees, her body shaking as she cried. The dam she had built to hold back her emotions cracked, and all the guilt, regret, and sorrow poured out at once.

This is all my fault, she thought, the words repeating in her head like a cruel mantra. She tried to stifle her sobs, but they came out in quiet, broken gasps.

Clarke’s quiet sobs were interrupted by a soft knock on the bathroom door. She froze, her breath catching as she quickly tried to compose herself, wiping at her face with trembling hands.

“Clarke?” Bellamy’s voice was soft, hesitant, but filled with concern. “Are you okay?”

Clarke bit her lip, her chest tightening as she tried to steady her breathing. “I’m fine,” she called back, her voice trembling slightly, betraying the truth.

There was a pause, and then Bellamy spoke again, his voice even gentler. “Clarke, it’s me. If something’s wrong… just tell me.”

She wanted to hold it together, to keep the fragile walls she’d built intact, but as soon as he spoke, the dam began to crack. The words she wanted to say caught in her throat, replaced by a broken sob. “I…” she tried to say, but her voice gave out, and she buried her face in her hands.

Bellamy’s tone shifted, a mix of urgency and tenderness. “Clarke, can I come in?” he asked. “Just to check on you?”

She hesitated, her instinct to push him away warring with the overwhelming need to let someone in. She wanted to tell him no, to insist that she was fine, that she’d pull herself together—but her cries grew louder, and she couldn’t hold back anymore. “Yeah,” she finally choked out, her voice barely above a whisper.

The door creaked open, and Bellamy stepped inside cautiously, his eyes immediately finding her in the tub. He stopped just inside, his expression softening as he saw her tear-streaked face and trembling shoulders. He didn’t speak right away, giving her a moment to collect herself.

Clarke looked up at him, her face flushed with both emotion and embarrassment. “I’m sorry,” she managed, her voice shaking. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Hey,” Bellamy interrupted gently, stepping closer. “Don’t apologize.” He crouched down beside the tub, his voice low and steady. “What’s going on? Talk to me.”

Clarke shook her head, fresh tears spilling down her cheeks. “It’s everything,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “Sanctum, the attack, the anomaly… everything I’ve done. It feels like it’s all my fault.”

Bellamy’s brows furrowed, and he leaned closer, his voice firm but kind. “Clarke, this isn’t your fault.”

Her breath hitched, and she looked away, her hands gripping the edge of the tub. “I made so many mistakes, Bellamy. If I hadn’t taken that first shot in Shallow Valley, if I’d just—” She broke off, her voice cracking. “Harper and Monty would still be here. My mom… she wouldn’t have died. We wouldn’t even be on this moon.”

Bellamy reached out, his hand gently resting on the edge of the tub, close but not touching her. “Clarke, stop,” he said softly. “You can’t carry all of this. You’ve always tried to take the weight of the world on your shoulders, but it’s not fair to yourself. You didn’t cause all of this.”

“But I—” Clarke started, her voice filled with anguish, but Bellamy cut her off, his voice stronger now.

“You did what you thought was right. What you had to do. And yeah, things didn’t go the way we wanted, but none of this is on you alone. We’ve all made choices. We’ve all lost people.” His tone softened again, his eyes meeting hers. “But blaming yourself for everything isn’t going to change the past. It’s not what Harper and Monty would’ve wanted. And it’s not what your mom would’ve wanted either.”

Clarke’s shoulders shook as she let out another sob, her hands covering her face. Bellamy hesitated for a moment, then reached out, his hand resting gently on her shoulder. “You’re not alone in this,” he said quietly. “You’ve never been alone. I’m here, Clarke. Always.”

She looked at him through her tears, his unwavering presence grounding her in a way she couldn’t explain. Slowly, she nodded, her voice barely a whisper. “Thank you.”

As Clarke sat there in the warm water, her tears still streaking her cheeks, she became acutely aware of her vulnerability. She was bare in the tub, her body exposed beneath the rippling water. A flush of embarrassment crept up her neck, and she instinctively moved to cover herself, her arms crossing over her chest.

“I should’ve told you to wait,” she murmured, her voice shaking slightly, a mix of emotions swirling within her. “This… this is—”

Bellamy, still crouched beside the tub, raised a hand, stopping her words before they could spiral further. “Clarke,” he said gently, his voice calm and steady. “Relax. You don’t have to worry.”

Her eyes met his, wide and uncertain, but there was no judgment in his expression. Instead, there was something softer, something that made her heart skip a beat. “You’re beautiful,” he said simply, his tone warm and sincere.

Clarke’s breath caught in her throat, her arms faltering as her chest tightened with an emotion she couldn’t name. Bellamy’s gaze stayed on hers, unwavering and full of care, as if he were trying to reassure her that there was nothing to be ashamed of, nothing to fear.

“Bellamy,” she whispered, her voice trembling. She didn’t know what to say, what to do. This moment between them, unspoken yet deeply intimate, was unlike anything they had shared before. It wasn’t about duty or survival—it was about trust, about him seeing her in her most vulnerable state and offering nothing but acceptance.

He smiled faintly, leaning forward just enough to close the space between them. “You don’t have to hide from me,” he said softly. “Not ever.”

Her lips parted, but no words came out. The weight of everything—their past, their losses, their unspoken connection—hung in the air, making it feel like the world outside didn’t exist for just a moment. Clarke’s heart raced as she took in the way he looked at her, not with pity or guilt, but with something deeper, something that made her feel seen in a way she hadn’t felt in a long time.

“I don’t deserve this,” she finally said, her voice barely audible. “After everything I’ve done…”

Bellamy’s hand, steady and warm, reached out to brush a damp strand of hair from her face. “You deserve everything, Clarke,” he said firmly, his tone leaving no room for doubt. “Don’t let anyone, not even yourself, tell you otherwise.”

Tears welled in her eyes again, but this time they weren’t from sadness. She felt her walls cracking, and for once, she didn’t try to rebuild them. Instead, she let herself stay in the moment, vulnerable yet safe, as Bellamy stayed with her, his presence grounding her in a way nothing else could.

As Clarke cried in his arms, Bellamy didn’t try to stop her or tell her everything would magically be okay—he just held her, letting her feel what she needed to feel. His hand rested gently on her shoulder, the other lightly brushing over her hair in a way that was grounding, reassuring.

When her sobs began to quiet, Bellamy gently pulled back, his gaze searching hers. “Let me help you,” he said softly, nodding toward the towel folded neatly on the bench nearby. Without waiting for a response, he grabbed it and offered it to her, his tone gentle but firm. “You should get dry before you catch a chill.”

Clarke gave him a small nod, her cheeks still flushed from crying as she began to drain the tub. The water swirled down the dark stone basin, the sound filling the quiet room. “I’ll look away,” Bellamy said, stepping back and turning his back to her. He held out a hand for her to steady herself, his head angled down to give her privacy.

Clarke groaned softly as she took his hand, the ache in her leg making her wince as she stood. The cool air hit her damp skin, and Bellamy, noticing her discomfort, quickly handed her the towel. “Here,” he said quietly. “Take your time.”

Clarke wrapped the towel around herself, drying off as best as she could. “The robe,” she said softly, glancing toward the wall where the silk bathrobe was hanging. “Could you grab it?”

Bellamy nodded without turning around, moving quickly to fetch the robe. He handed it to her without looking, his hand brushing hers briefly. Clarke gave a small, shaky smile as she wrapped herself in the soft fabric, the sensation warm and comforting against her skin.

“You can look now,” she said after a moment, her voice quieter but steadier than before.

Bellamy turned slowly, his eyes meeting hers. He gave her a faint, reassuring smile before stepping toward where her crutches rested against the wall. “Let me grab these for you,” he said, hopping slightly over the edge of the tub area. He picked up the crutches and brought them over, holding them out to her.

“Thanks,” Clarke said softly, slipping her arms into the crutches with practiced ease. She steadied herself, adjusting her stance as she looked at him. 

Clarke slowly made her way back into the room, her crutches steadying her as she crossed the smooth floor. Bellamy followed close behind, his hands hovering slightly, ready to help if she faltered. When she reached the edge of the bed, she lowered herself carefully, letting out a small breath of relief.

Bellamy gave her a small nod, his gaze scanning the wardrobe standing against the wall. “Do you want me to grab something for you to wear?” he asked.

Clarke hesitated for a moment before nodding. “Yeah, sure,” she said, her tone light but tired. “Just nothing too complicated. Getting dressed isn’t exactly my strong suit right now.”

Bellamy smirked faintly, moving to the wardrobe and pulling it open. “Alright, let’s see,” he said, rifling through the clothes. After a moment, he pulled out a long black leather jacket, a dark blue long-sleeved shirt, and a pair of black jeans. “How about these?” he asked, holding them up for her to see. 

Clarke chuckled softly, nodding in approval. “That works,” she said. “You’ve got a decent eye for this.”

Bellamy grinned. “Don’t sound so surprised,” he teased, setting the clothes on the bed beside her. “If you need help, just say the word. Otherwise, I’ll look away.”

Clarke bit her lip, feeling a slight flush creep up her cheeks. “I’ll manage,” she said, her tone a little lighter now. “But thanks.”

Bellamy turned his back to give her privacy, moving a few steps away and leaning slightly against the wall. “Take your time,” he said over his shoulder. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Clarke began to change, carefully maneuvering out of her robe and into the fresh clothes he’d picked. The soft fabric of the long-sleeved shirt felt warm against her skin, and the jeans fit snugly but comfortably. As she slipped the leather jacket over her shoulders, she glanced at Bellamy, his back still turned, his head slightly tilted as if listening for any sign she needed him.

“I’m decent,” she finally said, her voice soft but carrying a hint of gratitude.

As Bellamy turned back to face her, Clarke glanced at the small hand towel she’d brought out from the bathroom, now sitting on a nearby chair. “Can you grab that for me?” she asked, nodding toward it.

Bellamy moved without hesitation, picking up the towel and handing it to her. “Here,” he said softly, watching as she carefully towel-dried her damp, wavy blonde hair.

The simple act of tending to herself made Clarke feel a little better, as if the weight she’d been carrying had lifted just slightly. Letting out her emotions in front of Bellamy had been hard, but now, in the aftermath, she felt lighter, even a little steadier. The warmth of his presence had grounded her in a way she hadn’t expected.

As she dried her hair, she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, her thoughts drifting. Bellamy had seen her at her most vulnerable—more than anyone else ever had, not even Madi. Clarke had always been the one to shield others, to carry the burdens so they wouldn’t have to. But Bellamy had been the one constant, the one person who had seen through her walls time and time again.

“I don’t think I’ve ever let anyone see me like that,” Clarke said quietly, her voice almost hesitant, as though she was admitting something fragile.

Bellamy tilted his head slightly, studying her with an expression of understanding. “Not even Madi?” he asked gently.

Clarke shook her head, setting the towel aside. “No,” she admitted. “I didn’t want her to see me as anything but strong. I thought if I let her see… all of this,” she gestured vaguely toward herself, “it would make her feel like she couldn’t rely on me.”

Bellamy nodded, stepping closer, his voice steady but full of warmth. “That’s who you are, Clarke,” he said. “You’re always trying to protect everyone, even if it means keeping everything bottled up.”

Clarke looked up at him, her blue eyes meeting his. “But you’ve seen it all,” she said softly. “The worst of me.”

Bellamy’s expression softened, and he crouched slightly so they were at eye level. “And you know what?” he said quietly. “It doesn’t change anything. If anything, it just makes me… respect you more. You don’t have to hide. Not from me.”

As Clarke’s gaze lingered on Bellamy’s lips, her breath caught slightly in her throat. Her eyes drifted upward to meet his deep brown eyes, which mirrored the same intensity she felt building in her chest. For a moment, the room seemed to shrink around them, the world fading into the background as the space between them grew smaller.

Bellamy leaned in slightly, his hand brushing a stray strand of damp hair away from her face, his touch soft and deliberate. Clarke felt her heart race, her pulse pounding in her ears as she wondered if he was about to—

A knock on the two glass doors shattered the moment. Clarke blinked, startled, as the sound pulled both of them back to reality. Bellamy straightened slightly, his hand dropping to his side, his expression shifting to something unreadable.

Clarke sighed softly, disappointment flickering across her face as she called out, “Come in.”

The doors slid open, and Murphy strolled in, a smirk already on his face. Behind him were Emori and Raven, both carrying small trays with what looked like snacks and bottles. “Hope we’re not interrupting,” Murphy said, his tone carrying a teasing edge as he held up a bottle with a flourish. “But I brought the good stuff—Jo juice. Josephine Lightbourne’s signature alcoholic drink. A real Sanctum specialty.”

Clarke rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress the faint smile tugging at her lips. “Leave it to you to raid the bar,” she said, her tone dry but affectionate.

Murphy plopped down on a nearby chair, setting the bottle on the table with a satisfied grin. “Hey, if we’re stuck on this moon, might as well enjoy the perks, right? And trust me, this stuff packs a punch.”

Emori smiled warmly, setting down a tray of glasses beside the bottle. “We figured you could use some company,” she said gently, glancing at Clarke. “You’ve been cooped up in here long enough.”

Raven walked in last, her sharp eyes flicking between Clarke and Bellamy as if sensing the tension in the room. She raised an eyebrow but said nothing, instead crossing her arms and leaning casually against the wall. “So,” she said, her tone light. “What did we miss?”

“Nothing,” Clarke said quickly, though the faint blush on her cheeks betrayed her. “Just talking.”

Bellamy moved to stand near the window, his expression carefully neutral. “Murphy’s timing is impeccable, as always,” he said, his tone dry but lacking any real bite.

“Always,” Murphy replied with a smirk, pouring a glass of the amber-colored drink and holding it out to Clarke. “Here, princess. Have a sip. It might make your leg hurt less. Or, at the very least, make you care less about it.”

Clarke shook her head but took the glass anyway, her lips curving into a faint smile. As much as the interruption had pulled her away from the moment with Bellamy, she couldn’t deny the comfort of having her friends around. Even Murphy, with his relentless sarcasm, brought a sense of normalcy that she hadn’t realized she needed.

Raven leaned back against the edge of a side table, her sharp gaze softening slightly as she turned to Clarke. “How’s your leg?” she asked, her tone casual but carrying an undertone of genuine concern.

Clarke shifted slightly in her chair, adjusting her crutches to lean against the nearby wall. “It’s better,” she said with a faint smile. “Still sore, but manageable.”

Raven smirked, crossing her arms. “You’re lucky, you know,” she said, her tone turning playful. “When I was on crutches, I hated the damn things. I didn’t even want to use them. I basically hopped around until I couldn’t take it anymore.”

Clarke chuckled softly, shaking her head. “That sounds like you.”

Raven’s smirk faded slightly, her eyes flicking to Clarke’s leg before glancing down at her own. “But seriously,” Raven continued, her voice quieter now, “you are lucky. When I got shot in the back…” She hesitated for a moment, her tone turning matter-of-fact, though there was a weight to her words. “It messed up my leg for good. I’ll never walk normally again. Partial disability, for the rest of my life.”

The room grew quiet for a moment, the weight of Raven’s words sinking in. Clarke’s chest tightened as she met Raven’s gaze, seeing the strength behind her friend’s vulnerability. “Raven,” Clarke said softly, her voice filled with empathy.

Raven shrugged, a wry smile tugging at her lips. “It’s not like I had a choice,” she said, her tone light but edged with truth. “I mean, what was I going to do? Sit around and feel sorry for myself? That’s not exactly my style.”

Murphy, leaning back in his chair with his usual nonchalance, chimed in, “Yeah, and now you make the rest of us look bad by being a total badass even with a limp.”

Raven snorted, rolling her eyes but clearly appreciating the sentiment. “Damn right,” she said, her smirk returning. “I may not be able to run, but I can still outthink and outbuild any of you.”

Emori smiled warmly, placing a hand on Raven’s shoulder. “That’s true. You’ve done more with that leg than most people could do with two perfectly working ones.”

Clarke nodded, her admiration for Raven shining through. “You’ve been through so much, and you’re still one of the strongest people I know,” she said sincerely. 

Raven gave her a small, genuine smile, shrugging off the praise with a casual wave of her hand. “Well, you’re Clarke Griffin,” she said, her tone teasing but affectionate. “If anyone can bounce back, it’s you.”

Clarke carefully moved away from the bed, grabbing her crutches and making her way to the small seating area. The room’s burnt orange walls, with their subtle purple undertones, had a strangely comforting effect. The colors, combined with the soft glow of the lanterns, gave the space a warmth that Clarke hadn’t expected from Josephine Lightbourne’s former bedroom.

She lowered herself onto the couch next to Murphy, who was lounging casually with Emori perched comfortably on his lap. Across from them, a bookcase lined with old volumes and trinkets from Sanctum’s past added to the room’s character. Raven and Bellamy followed her, Raven settling into a chair nearby while Bellamy took a seat on the couch beside Clarke.

Murphy smirked, stretching his arms out behind Emori. “You know,” he said, his tone playful, “I think I could get used to this whole ‘playing a Prime god’ thing. People bowing, offering me drinks, treating me like I’m royalty—it’s not so bad.”

Raven shot him a sharp look, raising an eyebrow. “Oh, now you want to?” she said, her voice dripping with mockery. “When we first came up with the idea, you were ready to fight tooth and nail to avoid it.”

Murphy shrugged, grinning as he glanced down at Emori, who rolled her eyes but smiled affectionately. “What can I say? I’ve grown into the role.”

Clarke chuckled softly, shaking her head. “Just don’t let it go to your head, Murphy.”

“Too late,” Emori chimed in, leaning back against him. “He’s already insufferable.”

Murphy grinned wider, clearly enjoying himself. “Hey, if the shoe fits…”

Raven groaned, leaning forward in her chair. “I swear, Murphy, one day you’re going to take this too far, and it’s going to blow up in your face. And when it does, I’m not helping.”

Murphy smirked at Raven’s jab, his usual smugness shining through. But as the laughter subsided and the room fell into a brief silence, he leaned forward slightly, his expression turning more serious. “By the way,” he said, breaking the quiet, “I ran into Echo earlier. Heard what happened out there.” He paused, glancing at Bellamy. “She’s not doing too hot.”

Clarke looked up from where she was adjusting her crutches by the side of the couch, her brow furrowing. “What do you mean?”

Murphy shrugged, though his tone carried a weight that betrayed his casual demeanor. “She’s… different. I don’t know how to explain it. I mean, Echo’s always been intense, but it’s like she’s on edge constantly now. It’s like she’s waiting for something to explode.”

Bellamy nodded, his jaw tightening. “She’s been struggling,” he admitted. “Ever since the anomaly, things have been… different for her. But,” he added, his tone firm, “she did save our lives out there. And Clarke’s.”

Clarke glanced at Bellamy, remembering the chaos in the woods, the gunshots, and Echo’s decisive actions. “She did,” she said softly, her voice thoughtful. “Whatever she’s dealing with, she’s still fighting for us. For all of us.”

Raven shifted in her chair, her sharp gaze softening slightly as she looked at Bellamy. “I know it hasn’t been easy for either of you,” she said, her voice calm but empathetic. “You and Echo, splitting up. That’s not something you just bounce back from.”

Bellamy let out a small sigh, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. He nodded slightly, but his expression was hard to read. “Yeah,” he said after a moment, his tone low. “It’s been tough. For both of us.”

Raven crossed her arms, her voice firm but not unkind. “She might not be showing it, but she’s probably hurting more than she’s letting on. You know how Echo is—she bottles everything up until it spills over.”

Bellamy’s jaw tightened as he looked down at the floor. “I know,” he admitted. 

Clarke, who had been quietly listening, glanced at Bellamy, her voice soft. “Sometimes people need space to figure things out. But that doesn’t mean you’re not helping, just by being there.”

Murphy let out a faint scoff, though his tone lacked its usual edge. “Sometimes you can’t fix it,” he said. “Sometimes you just have to let people deal with their own crap in their own time.”

Raven shot him a look but didn’t argue. “He’s right, though,” she said, her voice softer now. “You can’t carry this for her, Bellamy. She has to work through it herself. And I think…” She hesitated for a moment, then continued, “I think you both need to let each other heal.”

Clarke shifted slightly on the couch, adjusting her crutches nearby. The weight of the conversation about Echo lingered in the air, and she could feel how heavy it was for everyone. Deciding to change the subject, she leaned forward a little, her tone thoughtful but cautious.

“Has anyone else thought about how… quiet it’s been past the fence?” she asked, glancing around at the group. “It’s been over a week since the attack, and there hasn’t been a single sign of movement out there. It’s just odd.”

Bellamy straightened slightly, his brows furrowing. “I’ve been thinking about it,” he admitted. “It doesn’t make sense. If those people were guarding the anomaly—or whatever their purpose was—you’d think there’d be more activity.”

Raven nodded, crossing her arms as she leaned back in her chair. “Yeah, it’s weird. You don’t send out a team like that without backup or at least checking what happened to them. Either they don’t know their people are gone, or…”

“Or they’re planning something,” Murphy finished, his voice cutting through the room. He leaned back into the couch, his usual smirk absent. “That’s what you’re thinking, right?”

Clarke nodded, her lips pressing into a thin line. “It’s not like they just vanished. If they were connected to the anomaly, then they’re part of something bigger. And if they know we’re here…”

“They’re probably waiting for the right moment,” Emori added softly, her expression pensive as she leaned into Murphy. “Or maybe trying to figure out what we know.”

Raven sighed, running a hand through her hair. “The quiet is definitely more unsettling than if there was another attack. At least with an attack, you know where you stand.”

“Exactly,” Clarke agreed, glancing at Bellamy. “We need to figure out what their endgame is. Sitting here waiting for something to happen isn’t going to help anyone.”

Bellamy nodded, his jaw tightening. “You’re right,” he said. “But we can’t afford to make any reckless moves, either. If we push too far, we could provoke them, and that might be exactly what they want.”

Raven raised an eyebrow. “So what’s the plan, then? Just sit here and wait?”

“No,” Clarke said firmly. “We can send out another scouting party. Gabriel, Echo, and maybe a few others could get close to the anomaly again. If there’s anything out there—any signs of movement or clues about who these people are—they’ll find it.”

Murphy snorted. “Great. Send Echo, the one who’s already wound tighter than a spring.”

Bellamy shot him a look but didn’t argue. “She’s still one of the best fighters we have,” he said. “And Gabriel knows the terrain better than anyone.”

“Fine,” Murphy muttered, holding up his hands. “Just don’t be surprised if she shoots first and asks questions later.”

The room fell silent for a moment, the weight of the unknown pressing down on all of them. Whatever was out there, past the fence, wasn’t gone—it was waiting. And Clarke knew they didn’t have the luxury of ignoring it for much longer.

–

As Clarke walked carefully into the medical bay, the faint antiseptic smell and soft hum of equipment greeted her. It had been a long five days of resting, healing, and trying to keep herself from getting involved in too much while she was still on crutches. But today was different—she could finally walk on her own again. Gabriel stood nearby, looking over some notes on a tablet, but when he noticed her, he set it down with a small smile.

“Well, look at you,” he said, crossing his arms. “How’s the leg feeling?”

Clarke shifted her weight slightly, testing her balance. “A little stiff, but no pain,” she replied, offering a faint smile of her own. “I feel like myself again.”

Gabriel nodded, stepping closer to examine her leg briefly. “You’re healing well, but don’t push it too hard. It’s still a recent injury, and the last thing you want is to reopen the wound. Take it easy, at least for a few more days.”

“I will,” Clarke promised, though they both knew she wasn’t the best at staying still. “Thanks, Gabriel. For everything.”

He gave her a reassuring smile. “Just doing my job. Go easy on yourself, Clarke.”

With that, Clarke left the medical bay, the relief of walking without crutches filling her with a renewed sense of purpose. She made her way to the main hall of the palace, where she found Indra and Miller deep in conversation near the ornate table that served as their planning hub. Both looked up as she approached, and Miller’s face lit up with a grin.

“Well, look who’s back on her feet,” Miller said, his tone light but genuine. “It’s good to see you up and moving again, Clarke.”

Clarke smiled, nodding as she stepped closer to the table. “It feels good to be back. How are things? How’s everyone behaving lately?”

Miller leaned back slightly, crossing his arms. “Not too bad, surprisingly,” he said. “The Prime followers are keeping quiet—for now. Murphy and Emori playing their parts is helping keep the peace. Wonkru is restless, though. They’re not used to sitting around and waiting for orders.”

Indra nodded in agreement, her expression stern but thoughtful. “The Eligius prisoners are also getting restless. They don’t trust the Prime followers, and some of them are starting to question why we’re all here instead of moving on to find a new planet.”

Clarke frowned, the tension between the groups weighing on her mind. “We can’t afford any more fights breaking out,” she said. “We need to keep everyone working together, at least until we know more about what’s going on past the fence.”

“Agreed,” Indra said, her voice firm. “But people are starting to get impatient. They want answers, Clarke.”

Clarke exhaled, glancing at the map spread out on the table. “We all do,” she said quietly. “But rushing into something without a plan isn’t going to help anyone.”

Miller and Indra nodded in agreement, their expressions serious but trusting in Clarke’s leadership. As the conversation shifted to logistical matters, Clarke glanced across the main hall and noticed Raven and Jordan sitting at a table in the corner, bent over a set of blueprints for the new compound. The sight brought a faint smile to her face—seeing progress, seeing plans for a future that wasn’t entirely defined by survival.

Deciding to check in, Clarke excused herself and made her way over to them. As she approached, she caught bits of their conversation, Raven explaining something with her usual sharp precision while Jordan listened intently, occasionally nodding or pointing to parts of the design.

“Hey,” Clarke said, her voice warm as she pulled out a chair to join them. “How’s it going over here?”

Raven looked up, flashing Clarke a quick smile before gesturing to the blueprints. “Making progress. Jordan’s been helping refine some of the structural plans. He’s got a good eye for this kind of thing.”

Jordan glanced at Clarke, his smile a little shy but genuine. “Raven’s giving me too much credit,” he said modestly. “I’ve just been trying to help wherever I can.”

Clarke sat down, her gaze shifting between the two of them and the blueprints. “It looks great,” she said, nodding at the designs. “This compound is going to make a huge difference for everyone.”

As they continued discussing the plans, Clarke noticed Jordan’s expression falter slightly when the conversation lulled. He seemed distracted, his gaze drifting to the corner of the room. Concerned, Clarke reached out, her hand lightly touching his arm. “Hey,” she said gently, “how are you doing? I feel like I haven’t seen much of you lately.”

Jordan hesitated, his smile fading as he glanced down at the table. “I’m… okay,” he said quietly, though the hesitation in his voice betrayed the truth. After a moment, he added, “I still miss Delilah. Every day.”

Clarke’s heart ached at the raw pain in his voice. She gave his arm a reassuring squeeze, her eyes meeting his with empathy. “It’s okay to miss her, Jordan,” she said softly. “She meant a lot to you.”

He nodded, his voice trembling slightly. “It’s just… I keep wondering if there was something more I could’ve done. If I could’ve saved her somehow.”

Clarke shook her head gently. “You did everything you could,” she said firmly. “Sometimes, no matter how much we want to save someone, it’s out of our control. But that doesn’t mean you didn’t try, or that what you feel for her isn’t real.”

Jordan looked at her, his eyes glassy with unshed tears. “It just feels like… she’s slipping further away. Like I’m forgetting pieces of her.”

Clarke’s chest tightened, and she leaned forward, her voice steady and kind. “You’ll never forget her, Jordan. She’ll always be a part of you, no matter how much time passes. And she’d want you to keep going, to keep building the future she believed in.”

Jordan exhaled shakily, nodding as he wiped at his eyes. “Thanks, Clarke,” he said softly. “That means a lot.”

She smiled gently, her hand still resting on his arm. “Anytime,” she said. “And if you ever need to talk, I’m here.”

Raven, who had been quietly giving them space, chimed in with a small, encouraging smile. “We all are, Jordan. You’re not alone in this.”

Clarke left Raven and Jordan at the table, offering them a small wave as she stepped away. “I’ll see you both later,” she said. “I’m going to meet up with Gaia and Madi. School should be out by now.”

She made her way outside, the warmth of the suns hitting her skin as she descended the burnt-orange rock stairs that led to Sanctum’s courtyard. The familiar sight of Madi waiting near the base of the steps brought a smile to Clarke’s face. Madi had her bag slung over her shoulder, filled with her school supplies. When she spotted Clarke, her expression lit up, and she waved enthusiastically.

“Clarke!” Madi called, jogging over to meet her.

Clarke bent slightly to greet her with a hug, careful not to put too much pressure on her still-healing leg. “Hey, Madi,” she said warmly. “How was school today?”

Madi shrugged, her face a mix of curiosity and mild exasperation. “It was okay. We learned more about Sanctum’s history and how the first settlers built the palace. It’s kind of interesting, but also… kind of boring.”

Clarke chuckled, brushing a stray strand of hair from Madi’s face. “History can feel like that sometimes,” she said. “But it’s important to know where we came from—especially here, where everything’s so new to us.”

Madi nodded, swinging her bag slightly. “I guess. But it’s weird learning about the Primes when… well, we know they weren’t exactly good people.”

Clarke’s smile faltered slightly, her expression growing thoughtful. “That’s true,” she said carefully. “But it’s also good to understand what happened so we can make better choices now. That’s why you’re in school, Madi. So you can help us build a better future.”

Madi’s eyes softened, and she smiled up at Clarke. “I’ll try,” she said earnestly. “Gaia says you’re the reason we even have a future. She talks about you a lot.”

Clarke’s chest tightened at Madi’s words, but she smiled nonetheless, brushing her hand lightly over Madi’s shoulder. “Well, Gaia’s pretty great, too,” she said softly. “And you’re going to do amazing things, Madi. I know it.”

Madi beamed at her, the tension of the moment fading into something lighter. Clarke reached out, taking Madi’s bag and slinging it over her own shoulder, much to Madi’s protest.

“I can carry that!” Madi exclaimed, though she was smiling.

Clarke laughed. “I know you can, but let me help this time,” she said as they began walking together, heading toward Madi’s temporary quarters. The quiet companionship between them felt grounding, a reminder of what Clarke was fighting for—and what truly mattered.

Chapter Text

Clarke sat at a dining table in the palace’s council chamber, the weight of the recent discovery pressing heavily on her shoulders. Across from her, Indra and Miller listened intently, their expressions a mix of concern and focus. 

Clarke leaned forward, her hands clasped tightly together as she began. “The helmet we found from the anomaly soldier,” she said, her voice steady but laced with tension, “is unlike anything we’ve ever encountered. It’s not just advanced—it’s light-years ahead of anything we’ve seen before.”

Miller raised an eyebrow, his arms crossed. “How advanced are we talking here?” he asked. “More than Eligius?”

“Much more,” Clarke replied. “When Raven put it on, it synced with her mind—or her neural patterns. It showed her a holographic map of stars and planets. Each of those planets is connected by anomalies. It’s not just one anomaly—it’s a network of wormholes that link planets together.”

Indra’s eyes narrowed, her tone sharp. “And these people—whoever they are—control this network?”

“We don’t know,” Clarke admitted, exhaling heavily. “But the helmet had information. Not just about the anomalies, but about me.” She hesitated for a moment, glancing between them. “It called me… ‘The Key.’ It had data on me—more than it should. My name, my history, everything.”

Indra’s expression darkened, her mind already racing through the implications. “Why would they have information on you? How could they?”

Clarke shook her head. “I don’t know. But it means they’ve been watching us—watching me—for a long time. This isn’t just about Sanctum or Wonkru anymore. This is something way beyond our control.”

Miller leaned forward, his voice lower. “If they have that kind of technology, what does that mean for us? If they decide to come for you—or anyone else—we won’t stand a chance.”

“That’s why we need to be smart about this,” Clarke said, her voice firm. “We don’t know how many of them are out there, or what their goal is. But if they think I’m the Key, they’re not going to stop until they get me.”

Indra nodded slowly, her gaze piercing. “And what do you intend to do about it? If they come for you, you’ll be putting everyone in Sanctum at risk.”

Clarke’s jaw tightened, and she looked down at her hands. “I know that,” she said quietly. “That’s why we need to be ready. Patrols need to stay strong, and we need to monitor the fence for any sign of movement. But we also need to figure out what this helmet can tell us. If it holds answers, we have to find them before it’s too late.”

Indra exchanged a look with Miller, then nodded. “I’ll increase patrols around the fence and double the guard near the anomaly,” Indra said. “We can’t risk letting them get any closer.”

“And I’ll organize a team to start prepping the defenses in case this escalates,” Miller added. “Sanctum’s holding together for now, but it won’t take much to tip things over the edge.”

Clarke nodded, grateful for their support but still feeling the weight of the responsibility pressing down on her. “Thank you,” she said. “This is bigger than any of us, but we have to do what we can to protect Sanctum—and each other.”

As the meeting ended, Clarke lingered for a moment, staring at the map of Sanctum spread out on the table. She felt Bellamy’s words echo in her mind: If they think you’re the Key, they won’t stop coming for you.

She took a deep breath, steeling herself. No matter what was coming, she would face it head-on—because the lives of everyone she cared about depended on it.

Clarke stood up from the table, her body tense as Gaia and Niylah hurried into the room, their expressions urgent.

“Clarke,” Niylah called out, slightly out of breath, “we’ve got movement south of the fence. It’s not our people.”

Clarke’s stomach sank as she immediately turned toward Indra and Miller. “How many?” she asked, her voice sharp with urgency.

“Enough to cause concern,” Niylah replied. “The patrol spotted them but couldn’t get a clear view. They’re staying hidden in the treeline.”

Clarke didn’t hesitate, her leadership instincts taking over. “We need to get everyone on patrol near the anomaly back inside Sanctum immediately,” she said firmly. “Tell them to fall back. I want this entire place on full lockdown.”

Indra gave a curt nod, her expression grim but resolute. “I’ll see to it. Wonkru guards will cover the gates and secure the perimeter.”

Clarke turned to Miller. “Make sure all non-combatants are secured inside the palace or their homes. No one goes outside unless it’s absolutely necessary.”

Miller nodded, already moving toward the door. “Got it.”

Gaia stepped closer, her voice calm but insistent. “Clarke, if this is connected to the anomaly, they’re testing us—seeing how we respond. Locking down is smart, but we need to be ready for anything.”

Clarke’s jaw tightened as she nodded. “Agreed. They’ve been quiet for too long, and now they’re testing our defenses. We can’t give them an opening.”

Niylah added, “The patrol that spotted them said they didn’t approach the fence, but the way they moved… it was coordinated. They’re not random scavengers.”

Clarke glanced at Indra, her voice steady but urgent. “Double the guards on the south fence. If they get closer, we need to know immediately. No one engages unless absolutely necessary. We don’t want to provoke them until we know what we’re dealing with.”

Indra nodded once more. “Understood.”

Clarke pushed open the heavy door to Ryker’s Keep, her steps quick and purposeful as she entered the room. Bellamy, Murphy, Emori, and Raven were gathered around a table littered with blueprints and sketches, Raven animatedly gesturing at the plans for the new compound.

“…and this section here will be for the solar arrays,” Raven was saying, pointing to a detailed diagram. “It’s going to make us self-sufficient and way more efficient than—”

Clarke’s voice cut through the conversation, sharp and urgent. “We have a problem.”

Everyone turned to look at her, their expressions immediately shifting to concern. Bellamy stepped closer, his brows furrowing. “What’s going on?”

Clarke exhaled, trying to steady herself as she addressed them. “Niylah and Gaia spotted movement south of the fence. It’s not our people, and from the way they’re moving, it’s coordinated.”

Raven’s face paled slightly. “Coordinated? You mean it’s them, don’t you?” she said, her voice lowering. “The anomaly people?”

Clarke nodded grimly. “That’s the assumption. I’ve already ordered the patrols near the anomaly to fall back into Sanctum, and Indra is doubling the guards at the south fence. The whole place is on lockdown.”

Murphy let out a low whistle, leaning back in his chair. “Well, that’s not ominous or anything,” he said, his tone laced with sarcasm. “So, what’s the plan? We just sit here and hope they don’t storm the gates?”

“No,” Clarke said firmly, her tone leaving no room for argument. “We’re not going to provoke them, but we’re also not going to be unprepared. Raven, your work on the compound is critical, but we need defenses in place now. Can we repurpose any of the Eligius tech for short-term security?”

Raven nodded, her mind already racing. “I’ve been working on retrofitting some of the shock batons and portable shields. I’ll need more time to integrate the heavier equipment, but we can get something functional in place.”

“Good,” Clarke said, turning to Murphy and Emori. “I need the two of you to keep the Prime followers calm. If they get wind of what’s happening outside the fence, they’ll panic. The last thing we need is more chaos inside Sanctum.”

Emori nodded without hesitation. “We’ll handle it,” she said confidently, though Murphy didn’t look as thrilled.

“Great,” Murphy muttered. “Because pretending to be gods wasn’t hard enough already.”

Bellamy ignored Murphy’s quip, his focus entirely on Clarke. “And what about you?” he asked, his voice steady but concerned. “What’s your next move?”

Clarke hesitated for a moment, her gaze meeting his. “I need to figure out what these people want,” she said finally. “We know they’re watching us. If they’re moving closer, it means they’re testing us—or they’re planning something.”

Raven leaned back against the table, arms crossed, her expression both determined and weary. “Clarke, listen to me. That forcefield fence is keyed to Nightblood DNA. As long as these anomaly people aren’t Nightbloods, they’re not getting through. That’s the whole point of the system.”

Clarke turned toward Raven, her jaw tightening. Her voice was calm but carried an edge of urgency. “We don’t know that, Raven. We don’t know what kind of technology they have or what they’re capable of.”

Raven frowned but didn’t argue, her confidence wavering slightly. “Okay, fine. Let’s say they can bypass the forcefield somehow. What’s your plan then? We don’t have a full defense system in place, and we’re outnumbered as it is.”

Clarke exhaled, pacing slightly as she ran a hand through her hair. “That’s why we need to be proactive. We can’t just sit here and assume we’re safe because of a forcefield. If they’ve been watching us—and clearly, they have—they’ve had time to study Sanctum, our defenses, and our vulnerabilities.”

Bellamy chimed in, his voice calm but firm. “She’s right. They’ve been quiet for days, and now they’re moving closer. That’s not random. They’re testing us, looking for weaknesses.”

Murphy let out a groan, throwing his hands up. “Fantastic. So now we’re dealing with super tech geniuses who can probably hack our fence or walk right through it. Just another day in paradise.”

“Murphy,” Emori said, shooting him a warning look.

Clarke ignored his sarcasm and turned back to Raven. “You said the forcefield is keyed to Nightblood DNA. What if they’ve found a way to replicate that? What if their tech can bypass it entirely?”

Raven hesitated, clearly unwilling to dismiss the possibility. “It’s… not impossible,” she admitted reluctantly. “If they’re as advanced as the helmet suggests, they could’ve found a workaround.”

Clarke nodded, her expression grim. “Exactly. We can’t rely on the fence to do all the work. We need eyes on the ground and defenses ready in case they break through.”

Raven sighed, her shoulders slumping slightly. “Alright, I’ll take another look at the fence’s parameters. See if there’s anything we can reinforce or tweak to make it more secure.”

Clarke placed a hand on Raven’s shoulder, her voice softer. “Thank you. I know it’s a lot, but we need every edge we can get.”

Clarke straightened up, her gaze shifting across the room as she addressed the group. “I need to meet up with Niylah and Gaia,” she said, her tone steady but urgent. “I need to know if they’ve found anything else south of the fence. But before that, I need to make sure this lockdown goes down smoothly.”

Raven nodded, still focused on the plans she was working on. “We’ve got things covered here. I’ll keep working on the forcefield and see if there’s anything we can do to reinforce it.”

Clarke gave a small nod of appreciation before she turned toward the door. As she reached for the handle, Bellamy stepped forward. “I’ll go with you,” he said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Clarke hesitated, glancing at him. “Bellamy, you don’t have to—”

“I want to,” he interrupted, his voice soft but resolute. 

Clarke met his eyes for a moment, her expression softening. “Alright,” she said with a small nod. “Let’s go.”

As they stepped out of Ryker’s Keep, the cool evening air hit them, carrying with it the faint sounds of Sanctum’s activity as people moved about under the enforced lockdown. Guards patrolled the perimeter, their movements brisk and purposeful, and Clarke felt a flicker of relief that Indra had things under control.

As Clarke and Bellamy walked throughout Sanctum, the sharp crackle of the speakers echoed overhead, followed by the calm but commanding voice of one of the guards announcing the lockdown.

“Attention, all residents of Sanctum,” the voice said. “An immediate lockdown is in effect. Please return to your homes or assigned quarters and remain indoors until further notice. This is for your safety.”

People on the hurried to comply, a mix of confusion and worry on their faces. Clarke exchanged a glance with Bellamy, who nodded silently as they made their way to the meeting point with Indra.

At the gates of the main compound, they found Indra waiting, her arms crossed as she spoke with one of the guards. Her expression was as stern as ever, but there was a flicker of relief as she turned and saw Clarke and Bellamy approaching.

“The patrols from the anomaly have made it back,” Indra reported without preamble. “They’re inside the compound now.”

“Did they see anything?” Clarke asked, her tone sharp.

Indra shook her head. “They reported no further movement since the initial sighting. Whoever was out there seems to have retreated, or they’re waiting.”

Clarke let out a slow breath, trying to process the information. “So, we’re back to square one,” she muttered, her frustration evident.

Bellamy glanced at Indra. “How’s the lockdown going?”

“Smoothly so far,” Indra replied. “Most people are complying, though there’s some tension among the Prime followers. They’re asking questions about why this is happening.”

“Murphy and Emori are keeping them calm,” Clarke said. “We need to make sure that holds. The last thing we need right now is panic inside the compound.”

Indra nodded in agreement, then gestured toward the guards stationed at the gates. “I’ve doubled the patrols around the fence and key areas inside Sanctum. We’ll know the second there’s movement.”

Clarke took a deep breath, her mind racing. “Good,” she said. “But we can’t let our guard down. These people—whoever they are—have been quiet for too long. They’re planning something.”

Bellamy placed a hand on her shoulder, his touch grounding. “Then we’ll be ready for them,” he said, his voice steady. 

Clarke met his gaze, drawing strength from his confidence. “We have to,” she said. “Because this isn’t just about us—it’s about everyone in Sanctum.”

Indra stepped closer, her voice firm but calm. “The patrols are in position, the people are locked down, and we’re watching every inch of that fence. Whatever happens next, we’ll be ready.”

Clarke nodded, though the unease in her chest didn’t fully subside. The quiet outside the anomaly wasn’t a relief—it was a warning. And she knew they were running out of time to uncover the truth before it was too late.

–

Clarke and Bellamy entered Ryker’s Keep, finding Hope, Gabriel, and Octavia huddled at a table. The tension in the room was palpable, and the flickering light cast long shadows across their faces.

Clarke wasted no time, stepping forward. “We’ve called for a full lockdown,” she began, her voice steady but urgent. “There’s been movement south of the fence. The patrols have made it back inside the compound, but they didn’t see any more signs of activity. That doesn’t mean we’re safe.”

Gabriel glanced at the helmet, his brow furrowed. “Movement near the fence? It’s them, isn’t it? The anomaly people.”

Clarke nodded grimly. “Most likely. They’re testing us, figuring out how we respond. And if what we’ve uncovered so far is right, they’re not just scouting—they’re looking for something.”

Octavia leaned against the wall, her arms crossed, her expression dark. “Not something,” she said, her voice low. “Someone. They’re looking for you, Clarke. And Bellamy.”

Clarke froze for a moment, the weight of Octavia’s words sinking in. “But Why?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Octavia sighed, pushing off the wall to pace the room. “I don’t know,” she admitted, her frustration evident. “But think about it. They’ve been tracking you—Clarke, the helmet literally has a file on you. They called you the Key. And Bellamy… well, maybe it’s because you’re connected to her.”

Bellamy frowned. “So we’re just targets because of some prophecy? Because of this ‘Key’ nonsense?”

“Maybe,” Gabriel interjected, his tone cautious but thoughtful. “Or maybe it’s bigger than that. If the anomaly is a wormhole system, and these people are trying to control it—or protect it—it makes sense that they’d focus on anyone who might disrupt that balance.”

Hope, who had been sitting quietly, spoke up, her voice hesitant. “What if… what if they’re looking for me too?” she said, glancing at Octavia. “I was in the anomaly. I don’t remember much, but I was there. Maybe they think I’m important, or dangerous, or… something.”

Octavia’s expression softened as she turned to Hope. “They could be,” she said gently. “But if that’s true, it means they’re after all of us. Anyone connected to the anomaly.”

Clarke exhaled, her frustration bubbling to the surface. “This doesn’t make sense,” she said, her voice trembling slightly. “They’ve been tracking us, watching us, but we still don’t know what they want. And if they’re looking for me, why now? Why not when we first got here?”

Gabriel looked thoughtful, his gaze fixed on the helmet. “It could be that something triggered them,” he said. Or maybe it was the anomaly itself reacting to Octavias presence.”

“That’s a comforting thought,” Bellamy muttered, running a hand through his hair. “So either they’ve been planning this for a while, or Octavia showing up here set something in motion.”

Octavia stopped pacing, her eyes narrowing as a thought struck her. “What if it’s both?” she said. “What if they’ve been waiting for the right moment? For something specific?”

Clarke’s stomach churned at the implications. “Then we don’t have much time,” she said. “If they’re after us—after me—we need to figure out why and how to stop them.”

Hope looked at Clarke, her voice steady despite the fear in her eyes. “If they’re coming for us, we can’t just wait. We have to face them. Find out what they want.”

Gabriel nodded, his expression resolute. “And the answers are in that helmet,” he said, gesturing toward it. “Whatever they’re planning, we need to uncover it before it’s too late.”

Clarke nodded in agreement, exchanging a brief but knowing glance with Bellamy. Before Bellamy could respond, the door to Ryker’s Keep swung open, and Gaia and Niylah entered, their expressions grim and urgent.

“We’ve got a situation,” Gaia said, her voice steady but laced with tension. “A group of the anomaly people is sitting just outside the fence, north of the compound.”

The room fell silent, the weight of her words hanging heavy in the air. Clarke’s heart began to race, but her expression remained calm. “How many?” she asked.

“Five,” Niylah replied. “They’re armed, but they haven’t made any hostile moves. They’re just… waiting.”

“Waiting for what?” Bellamy asked, his voice sharp.

Gaia looked directly at Clarke and Bellamy. “For you. They said they want to talk—to the both of you.”

A chill ran down Clarke’s spine. She exchanged a glance with Bellamy, her mind racing. This wasn’t just a scouting mission or an attack. These people had come with a purpose—and that purpose was her.

“They’re asking for us by name?” Clarke asked, her voice quieter now.

Gaia nodded. “Yes. They were specific. They said they would only speak with you and Bellamy.”

Raven let out a low whistle, crossing her arms. “Well, that’s not creepy or anything,” she said. “So, what’s the plan? Are we just gonna walk out there and have a chat with the people who’ve been stalking us?”

Gabriel stepped forward, his expression a mix of curiosity and concern. “If they’re willing to talk, it could be our chance to get answers,” he said. “We need to know what they want.”

“Or it could be a trap,” Echo said bluntly, her arms crossed as she leaned against the wall. “We have no idea what these people are capable of.”

Bellamy looked at Clarke, his brow furrowed. “This is dangerous,” he said. “We don’t know what they’re planning. If we go out there, we’re walking right into their hands.”

Clarke took a deep breath, her resolve hardening. “If they wanted to attack, they could have done it already,” she said. “The fact that they’re waiting means they want something from us. And if we ignore them, we’re just postponing the inevitable.”

Hope, standing beside Octavia, spoke up, her voice shaky but determined. “If they’re connected to the anomaly, they might know something about my mom. About what happened to her. We can’t let this chance slip away.”

Octavia placed a reassuring hand on Hope’s shoulder, but her expression was guarded. “Hope’s right. But if you’re going out there, you’re not going alone.”

Clarke nodded, her gaze sweeping over the room. “We need to do this carefully. Bellamy and I will go, but we’ll take backup. A small group—enough to keep us safe but not provoke them.”

Indra stepped into the room, her presence commanding. “I’ll lead a team to stay close to the fence,” she said. “If anything goes wrong, we’ll be ready.”

Clarke looked at Indra and nodded. “Thank you.”

She turned to Gabriel, Octavia, and Hope, her expression firm but understanding. “You three need to stay back,” she said, her voice calm but leaving no room for argument.

Hope immediately shook her head, her jaw tightening. “No way,” she said. “I’m not staying behind. What if they know something about my mom?”

Clarke crouched slightly, placing a hand on Hope’s shoulder, her tone softening. “Hope, I understand how you feel, but this is about safety. You coming out there with us could make things worse. Octavia and you both came out of the anomaly—that alone might make you targets.”

Octavia exchanged a glance with Clarke, her jaw set but her eyes filled with reluctant agreement. “She’s right, kid,” she said, gently touching Hope’s arm. “We’re already on their radar just by being here. If we go out there, we’re giving them exactly what they want.”

Hope’s eyes filled with frustration and fear, but she didn’t say anything, her lips pressing into a tight line.

Clarke turned to Gabriel next. “You’re the one who understands this tech better than any of us. If something goes wrong, I need you here to analyze the situation—and to protect them.”

Gabriel hesitated for a moment but eventually nodded. “I don’t like it, but I’ll stay back,” he said. “Be careful out there.”

Clarke straightened and looked at Octavia and Hope again. “Stay out of sight. If anything happens, and warn Indra. No risks.”

Hope reluctantly nodded, her expression a mix of anger and fear. “Fine,” she muttered. “But you better come back.”

Clarke gave her a faint smile, then glanced at Octavia, who nodded in quiet understanding. With a final look at Gabriel, Clarke turned back to Bellamy, Echo, and the others. “Alright,” she said, her voice steady. “Let’s go.”

Bellamy turned to Clarke, his voice low but steady. “Are you sure about this?”

Clarke met his gaze, her eyes unwavering. “No,” she admitted. “But if we don’t do this, we’ll never know what they want. And I’m tired of being in the dark.”

Bellamy’s jaw tightened, but he nodded. “Then let’s do it.”

As the group prepared to head toward the north fence, Clarke couldn’t shake the feeling that whatever awaited them on the other side was only the beginning of something far bigger—and far more dangerous—than any of them could imagine.

–

Clarke’s heart pounded as she and Bellamy walked toward the north fence, joined by Gaia, Niylah, and Miller. The hum of the forcefield grew louder with each step, the electric shimmer of its energy visible in the moonlight. Her grip tightened on her weapon, her mind racing with possibilities—and the dread of what they might encounter.

As they approached, the figures on the other side of the fence became clearer. Five of them stood in crystalline suits, their movements deliberate but non-threatening. The faint light from the moons glinted off the armor, giving them an almost otherworldly appearance.

Clarke took a deep breath, her nerves coiling tighter. Bellamy, walking beside her, glanced her way, his voice low and steady. “We’ve got this,” he said, as if sensing her unease.

She nodded but didn’t respond, her focus locked on the group ahead. One of the anomaly people stepped forward, their movements slow and deliberate. They raised their hands slightly, a gesture that seemed meant to convey peace. Then, without warning, the figure reached up and began to remove their crystalline helmet.

The others tensed, their hands instinctively moving toward their weapons, but Clarke raised a hand to keep them from reacting. She watched as the helmet came off, revealing a bald man with sharp, angular features. A strange, intricate symbol was etched into his forehead, glowing faintly in the dark.

Clarke’s stomach dropped as her gaze locked on the symbol. She recognized it immediately—it was nearly identical to the one Octavia had on her back when she returned from the anomaly.

Bellamy noticed her reaction and whispered, “Clarke, what is it?”

She swallowed hard, forcing her voice to stay steady. “That mark,” she said quietly. “It’s the same as Octavia’s. The one she couldn’t explain.”

The man took a step closer to the fence, his movements slow, his expression calm but unreadable. When he spoke, his voice was deep, resonant, and unnervingly calm.

“Clarke Griffin,” he said, his gaze fixed on her. “Bellamy Blake. You’ve been expected.”

The words sent a chill down Clarke’s spine. “Expected?” she repeated, her voice cautious but firm. “Who are you? What do you want?”

The man tilted his head slightly, his expression still unreadable. “We are the Keepers of the Passage,” he said, his tone almost reverent. “Our purpose is to protect the anomaly, to ensure its integrity. You, Clarke Griffin, are the Key. And you, Bellamy Blake, are the Source.”

Clarke felt her breath hitch, the cryptic words echoing in her mind. “The Key and the Source?” she asked, trying to keep her voice steady. “What does that mean?”

The man didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he gestured to the other figures behind him, who remained silent and still. “You are integral to what comes next,” he said finally. “To the unification. To the survival of the human race.”

Bellamy stepped forward slightly, his voice sharp. “If we’re so important, why are your people attacking us? Killing our people?”

The man’s expression darkened slightly. “They were protecting the Passage,” he said. “You ventured too close. Our mission is to ensure that the anomaly is not corrupted—by anyone.”

Clarke felt a mix of fear and anger bubbling inside her. “If we’re so important to this ‘mission,’” she said, her voice rising slightly, “then why don’t you tell us what the hell is going on? Why are you here? Why us?”

The man’s gaze flickered to the forcefield, then back to Clarke. “Because the anomaly chose you,” he said simply. “And because time is running out.”

The buzzing of the forcefield seemed louder in the silence that followed, the weight of his words settling heavily on the group. Clarke’s mind raced as she tried to process what he was saying, but one thing was clear—this was far bigger than anything they had imagined, and the answers they sought were still just out of reach.

Clarke’s chest tightened as she stepped closer to the shimmering forcefield, her voice sharp but steady. “What do you want from us? What do we need to do so you’ll leave us—and Sanctum—alone?”

The bald man tilted his head slightly, his glowing symbol casting faint light on his stern features. His calm demeanor made his next words all the more chilling. “We don’t want to harm your people, Clarke Griffin,” he said. “But for the anomaly to fulfill its purpose, we need you. And Bellamy Blake.”

Clarke’s stomach dropped. “Why us?” she demanded, her voice filled with both frustration and fear. “What purpose are you talking about? What does the anomaly want from us?”

The man clasped his hands in front of him, his movements deliberate and unnervingly serene. “You are the Key,” he said, his piercing gaze locking onto hers. “The Key that will unlock the passage, the unification, the future of the human race. And you,” he added, turning his eyes to Bellamy, “are the Source. The one who anchors her.”

Bellamy stiffened beside Clarke, his hand instinctively gripping the hilt of his weapon. “Anchors her?” he repeated, his voice low and tense. “What the hell does that even mean?”

The man didn’t answer directly. Instead, he stepped closer to the forcefield, his voice growing quieter but no less intense. “The anomaly chose you both for a reason. Your connection is what makes the Key whole. Without it, the passage cannot open, and the cycle will collapse.”

Clarke’s mind raced, trying to make sense of his cryptic words. “What passage? What cycle?” she pressed. “You’re talking in riddles, and we need answers.”

The man’s expression softened slightly, as if he pitied her lack of understanding. “The answers will come when you’re ready,” he said. “But time is running out. You must come with us.”

Clarke’s heart pounded. “And if we don’t?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

The man’s gaze hardened, and the calm facade he had maintained began to crack. “If you do not come willingly,” he said slowly, “then the cycle will collapse, and the anomaly will no longer protect this world—or any other. Your refusal will bring ruin to your people and to the human race.”

Bellamy stepped forward then, his voice filled with anger. “You think threatening us is going to make us trust you?” he said.

The man’s gaze shifted back to Clarke, his voice softening once more. “This is not a threat, Clarke Griffin,” he said. “It is a warning. The anomaly has chosen, and you must fulfill its will. Come with us, and your people will be spared. Resist, and the cycle will end.”

Clarke’s grip on her weapon tightened as her mind raced. The weight of his words hung heavy in the air, and she could feel Bellamy’s tension radiating beside her. She didn’t trust this man—or his people—but she also knew that whatever they were dealing with was far beyond their understanding.

The bald man stepped closer to the shimmering forcefield, his movements slow and deliberate, as though the deadly barrier posed no threat to him. Clarke instinctively raised her gun, her finger hovering over the trigger. Beside her, Bellamy, Gaia, Niylah, and Miller followed suit, their weapons aimed at the advancing figure.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Clarke warned, her voice steady but laced with tension. Her eyes locked on the man, her heart pounding as she calculated his next move. “That forcefield has high radiation. It’ll kill you if you don’t have the right kind of blood to metabolize it.”

The man smirked faintly, his sharp features illuminated by the faint glow of the forcefield. His gaze locked on Clarke, and there was a flicker of something almost like admiration in his expression. “You’re brave, Clarke Griffin,” he said calmly, his voice resonating with a quiet power. “But bravery alone will not save your people.”

Clarke kept her gun raised, her jaw tight as she stared at him down. “If you want something from me, then tell me what it is.”

The man chuckled softly, his tone almost mocking. “I’ve already told you what you need to know,” he said. “You and Bellamy Blake must fulfill your purpose. The anomaly demands it.”

He stepped back, his crystalline suit shimmering faintly as he gestured toward the distance. “If you wish to save the human race, meet us near the anomaly in one hour. Come alone. No weapons.”

Clarke’s eyes narrowed, her grip tightening on her gun. “Why should we trust you?”

The man tilted his head, the faint glow of his forehead symbol catching the moonlight. “You shouldn’t,” he admitted, his smirk widening slightly. “But trust or not, the choice is yours. Come willingly, and you will understand your purpose. Refuse, and the anomaly will take what it needs—one way or another.”

Bellamy stepped forward, his voice sharp and filled with defiance. “And if we come unarmed, what’s stopping you from killing us?”

The man’s smirk faded, replaced by a calm, almost pitying look. “If we wanted you dead, Bellamy Blake, you would already would be.”

The group stood in tense silence, the buzzing of the forcefield the only sound. The man turned to leave, his movements slow and deliberate. Before stepping away, he glanced back over his shoulder, his voice softer now. “One hour. No weapons. Decide wisely.”

With that, he disappeared into the treeline, the other anomaly people following silently behind him. The forest swallowed them whole, leaving Clarke and the others standing in the tense quiet, the weight of his words pressing down on them.

Clarke lowered her weapon slightly, her heart pounding as she turned to Bellamy and the others. “What do we do?” Miller asked, his voice low.

Clarke glanced at Bellamy, their eyes meeting briefly before she answered. “We go,” she said, her voice firm. “But we don’t go unprepared.”

–

Clarke and Bellamy hurried back to Ryker’s Keep, the tension between them palpable. Inside, they found Raven, Murphy, Emori, Gabriel, Octavia, and Echo waiting, their faces filled with expectation and concern as the door swung open.

“What happened?” Raven asked immediately, stepping forward. “What did they say?”

Clarke hesitated, glancing at Bellamy before speaking. “They want Bellamy and I to meet them at the anomaly in an hour,” she said, her voice steady but strained. “They said it’s the only way to save the human race.”

“They also said no weapons,” Bellamy added grimly. “It’s obviously a trap.”

The room fell silent for a moment, everyone processing the weight of the situation. Then Raven stepped forward, her expression hardening. “Absolutely not,” she said firmly, crossing her arms. “You’re not walking into a trap—especially not alone. That’s suicide.”

“Raven,” Clarke began, her tone calm but resolute, “this isn’t just about us. If they think we’re the key to something—if meeting them can stop whatever they’re planning—we have to go.”

“No, you don’t,” Raven snapped, her voice rising. “You’re not doing this without us. We’re a team, Clarke. A family. You and Bellamy aren’t walking into this alone while the rest of us sit here waiting to see if you come back.”

Murphy leaned back against the table, his arms crossed, a sarcastic edge to his voice. “Yeah, because walking unarmed into a meeting with people who have magic helmets and wormholes sounds like a great idea.”

Emori shot him a look before turning to Clarke. “Raven’s right. If they’re asking for you specifically, it’s because they think they have leverage. They could use you to get whatever they want.”

Clarke’s jaw tightened as she looked around the room. “I get it,” she said, her voice firm but tinged with emotion. “But this isn’t your fight. They don’t want any of you. If Bellamy and I don’t go, they’ll come for Sanctum.”

“And you think they’ll just let you go if you show up?” Echo asked bluntly, her eyes narrowing. “These people are playing a game, and you don’t know the rules. None of us do.”

Gabriel, who had been silent, finally spoke, his tone thoughtful but cautious. “If they’re connected to the anomaly, they may have knowledge we can’t ignore. But Raven’s right—you shouldn’t go in unprotected.”

Bellamy spoke up, his voice calm but resolute. “They said no weapons. If we show up armed, they might see it as a threat and attack.”

“So we don’t bring weapons,” Octavia said, her arms crossed. “But that doesn’t mean you go alone. I’m coming with you.”

“No,” Clarke said immediately, her voice sharp. “You and Hope came out of the anomaly. You’re already a target. If you come, you’ll just give them more leverage.”

Octavia looked ready to argue, but Gabriel placed a hand on her arm. “She’s right,” he said softly. “They want Clarke and Bellamy for a reason. If we make it look like we’re defying their terms, it could escalate.”

Raven took a step closer to Clarke, her voice softening but no less determined. “Clarke, I know you think this is your burden to bear, but it’s not. You don’t have to do this alone. We don’t let family walk into danger by themselves.”

Clarke looked at each of them, her heart heavy with the weight of the decision. She knew they were right—knew they cared—but the stakes were too high to risk all of them. She took a deep breath, her voice steady but filled with resolve.

“I appreciate everything you’re saying,” she said. “But if this is the only way to keep everyone safe, Bellamy and I have to do it. You all need to stay here and be ready. If we don’t come back…”

“Stop,” Bellamy interrupted, his voice hard. “We’re coming back. End of discussion.”

Raven shook her head, her frustration clear as she stepped closer to Clarke and Bellamy. “No,” she said firmly. “You don’t get to make this decision for the rest of us. We survive together, or not at all. That’s how it’s always been.”

Clarke opened her mouth to argue, but Raven cut her off. “You really think Miller’s going to be okay with this? No one is going to stand by and let you and Bellamy walk into what’s obviously a trap. You’re not just two people anymore. You’re leaders—family. And we don’t leave family behind.”

Bellamy sighed, running a hand through his hair, but before he could respond, Octavia stepped forward, her expression fierce. “She’s right,” Octavia said, her voice steady but resolute. “I’m not letting my brother do this alone. If you’re going, I’m going.”

“Octavia—” Bellamy started, but she held up a hand to stop him.

“No,” she said sharply. “I already lost you once, and I’m not letting it happen again. You and Clarke might think this is your burden to bear, but it’s not. We’ve been through too much to let you two just walk out there and risk everything by yourselves.”

Clarke managed a small smile before turning to Octavia. “I need you and Raven to help watch over Madi while I’m gone,” she said. “Gaia can’t do it alone, and Madi needs people she trusts around her. She’s been through enough.”

Octavia hesitated, clearly torn, but eventually nodded. “Fine,” she said, her voice softer than usual. “But you’d better come back with Bellamy.”

Clarke turned back to Raven. “And you need to keep working on the compound,” she said firmly. “For the future. This can’t stop right now, no matter what happens. We’re building something better here.”

Raven’s jaw tightened, but she nodded. “I’ll keep things moving,” she said. “But don’t expect me to focus if you’re out there risking your life.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less,” Clarke said with a faint smile before turning to Murphy and Emori. “I need you two to keep the Prime followers at ease for a little longer. Sanctum’s fragile enough as it is, and if they find out what’s going on, it’ll only make things worse.”

Murphy let out a dramatic sigh, crossing his arms. “Oh, great. More pretending to be a god. My favorite.”

Emori elbowed him gently, giving Clarke a reassuring smile. “We’ll handle it,” she said. “Just make sure you come back.”

Clarke gave them all a long look, her heart heavy but determined. “I will,” she said firmly. “We’ve all fought too hard to lose everything now.”

Clarke turned to Echo, her expression firm but her voice steady. “Echo, I need you to keep an eye on Octavia and Hope while Bellamy and I are gone. They’re already targets because of the anomaly. I can’t have them putting themselves at risk or doing something reckless.”

Echo’s brow furrowed slightly, but she nodded. “You’re asking me to babysit?” she asked, a hint of sarcasm in her tone.

Clarke sighed, understanding the tension but pressing on. “I’m asking you to make sure they stay safe,” she clarified. “Octavia’s protective of Hope, and Hope is determined to find out what happened to her mom.”

Echo folded her arms, leaning slightly against the wall. “You don’t think Octavia’s going to listen to me, do you?”

“She might not,” Clarke admitted. “But I trust you to find a way. You’ve been through enough with us to know how to handle a situation like this. You’re resourceful, and you know how to stay ahead of trouble. I need you to do that now.”

Echo’s expression softened slightly, and she nodded again, more genuinely this time. “Alright,” she said. “I’ll keep them safe. But you’d better keep yourself safe out there, too.”

Clarke managed a faint smile. “I’ll do my best,” she said, her voice quiet. “Just… don’t let them follow us or get themselves into more danger. If they’re here, they’ll be safe.”

“Understood,” Echo said firmly. 

Clarke stepped back, exhaling as she prepared herself for what was to come. Knowing Echo was keeping watch over Octavia and Hope gave her a sliver of comfort, even as the weight of what lay ahead bore down on her.

Bellamy stepped closer to her, his voice low and steady. “You ready?”

Clarke nodded, exhaling slowly. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

With that, Clarke and Bellamy turned toward the door, the weight of what was ahead pressing down on them. But as they stepped out into the night, Clarke held onto one thing: hope that this time, she could find a way to save everyone—without losing herself.

–

The roar of the Eligius dirtbikes cut through the quiet of the woods as Clarke and Bellamy made their way toward the anomaly. The eerie glow of the green vortex grew brighter with every turn, casting an unnatural light on the surrounding trees. Above them, the massive purple gas giant loomed in the sky, its light mixing with the anomaly’s glow to create an otherworldly scene.

Clarke’s heart pounded as she pulled her bike to a stop a safe distance away from the swirling anomaly. She swung her leg off the bike, took off her helmet, and let out a slow breath. The sight before her was both beautiful and unsettling—like something out of a dream and a nightmare all at once.

Bellamy parked beside her, his jaw tight as he scanned the area. “There they are,” he said, nodding toward a group of figures standing near the edge of the anomaly.

The anomaly people stood in formation, their crystalline suits shimmering in the green light. The bald man, the one with the glowing symbol etched into his forehead, was at the center. He stepped forward slightly as Clarke and Bellamy approached, his movements slow and deliberate.

“Ready?” Bellamy asked quietly, his voice low.

Clarke glanced at him, her expression calm but determined. “No,” she admitted. “But let’s do this anyway.”

They moved forward cautiously, their weapons concealed beneath their jackets. Clarke kept her steps deliberate, her eyes locked on the bald man as they closed the distance. The hum of the anomaly grew louder with each step, a constant reminder of the power they were standing in the shadow of.

As they came to a stop a few feet from the group, the bald man’s lips curled into a faint smile. “You came,” he said, his voice calm but with an edge of satisfaction. “I expected nothing less.”

The bald man stepped closer, his glowing symbol casting faint shadows on his face as he gestured toward the swirling green anomaly behind him. His voice was calm, but there was an undercurrent of power and inevitability in his words.

“You have made the right choice by coming here,” he said, his gaze shifting between Clarke and Bellamy. “Through this wormhole lies a planet called Bardo. It is home to an underground compound, a sanctuary that has existed for hundreds of years, untouched by time and the chaos of the outside universe.”

Clarke’s stomach churned as the words sank in. “Why are we being taken there?” she asked, her voice steady but laced with suspicion.

The man’s lips curled into a faint smile. “You are the Key, Clarke Griffin,” he said. “And you, Bellamy Blake, are the Source. Together, you are critical to what comes next. On Bardo, you will be studied. Your memories will be searched using our advanced technology. The answers we seek lie within you.”

Bellamy took a step forward, his hands clenched into fists. “Studied?” he repeated, his tone sharp. “You’re talking about violating our minds—our memories. And for what? What makes you think we’ll agree to that?”

The man’s gaze shifted to Bellamy, his expression calm but unwavering. “Because it is your purpose,” he said simply. “You and Clarke were chosen by the anomaly. Your experiences, your pain, your sacrifices—they are the foundation for what must come next.”

“And what exactly is that?” Clarke demanded, her voice firm as she tried to suppress the fear bubbling inside her.

The man’s smile widened, his tone almost reverent. “The Last War,” he said. “A battle to restore the human race, to unify the fractured remnants of humanity across the stars. Without you, it cannot be won. Without you, the cycle will fail, and humanity will perish.”

Clarke felt a chill run down her spine. “You’re saying the fate of the human race depends on us?” she asked, disbelief evident in her voice. “Why us? Why not someone else?”

The man’s gaze softened slightly, as if he pitied her. “Because the anomaly chose you,” he said. “You are more than leaders. You are symbols. You carry the scars of humanity’s greatest failures—and its greatest hopes. On Bardo, you will understand your purpose. You will see the truth.”

Clarke and Bellamy exchanged a glance, their expressions mirroring a mix of fear, anger, and determination. The bald man’s calm but calculated tone only heightened the tension in the air as he gestured toward the direction of Gabriel’s tent.

“You will find the anomaly stone in the tent where Gabriel Santiago has been studying it,” the man explained. “It is the key to activating the passage and ensuring you arrive on the correct planet—Bardo.”

Clarke’s chest tightened as she stared at the man. “You’re saying you know about Gabriel’s work?” she asked, her voice sharp.

“We know everything,” the man said, his smirk returning. “We have Octavia’s memories. Every detail she saw, every word she heard while she was with you, has been cataloged. We know of your friends, your compound, your plans. And we know how much they mean to you.”

Bellamy took a step forward, his fists clenched at his sides. “Are you threatening them?” he demanded, his voice low but filled with restrained fury.

The man tilted his head slightly, his expression unreadable. “I am simply stating a fact,” he said. “You care deeply for your people. Enough to risk everything to protect them. That is admirable—and predictable.”

Clarke felt a chill run down her spine as she stepped closer to Bellamy. “And if we refuse?” she asked, her voice steady despite the growing dread in her chest. “If we don’t do what you’re asking?”

The man’s smile faded, and his tone grew colder. “Then your friends will suffer,” he said bluntly. “We know their strengths. Their weaknesses. Their fears. It would be a shame for any harm to come to them because of your defiance.”

Clarke’s breath hitched, and she felt Bellamy’s hand brush against hers, grounding her. She knew he was just as torn as she was—angry at the threat, but unwilling to risk the people they cared about.

The man gestured toward the direction of Gabriel’s tent. “The stone awaits,” he said. “And so does your destiny.”

As Clarke and Bellamy arrived at Gabriel’s tent, the tension in the air was palpable. The eerie purple hue of the gas giant above cast long shadows across the ground, Clarke’s heart raced as they stopped just outside the tent, the bald man and his group close behind.

The bald man gestured toward the entrance, his tone calm but insistent. “It’s time to go,” he said. “The anomaly stone will take you to Bardo. Fulfill your purpose.”

Clarke and Bellamy exchanged a brief glance, their shared resolve clear. In a swift motion, Clarke raised her gun, and Bellamy followed suit. Before anyone could react, Bellamy moved quickly, grabbing one of the anomaly people by the arm and pulling him into a chokehold, his weapon pressed to the person’s side.

“Back off,” Bellamy ordered, his voice low and threatening. “All of you.”

The bald man’s calm expression didn’t falter, but there was a flicker of interest in his glowing eyes. “This is a mistake,” he said, his tone unshaken. “You don’t understand what you’re doing.”

“Oh, we understand perfectly,” Clarke snapped, her gun trained on the group. “You’ve been threatening us, stalking us, trying to force us into something we don’t understand. You want us to trust you? Prove it. Back off now, or he dies.”

The hostage, still encased in his crystalline suit, struggled slightly against Bellamy’s grip but remained silent. The bald man raised a hand to his group, signaling them to stay still.

“You’re brave, Clarke Griffin,” the man said, a faint smirk playing on his lips. “But bravery without understanding is nothing more than recklessness.”

“Call it whatever you want,” Bellamy growled. “Let us go, leave us alone, and we’ll let him go. That’s the deal.”

Before the bald man could respond, the sharp crack of gunfire echoed through the clearing. Clarke instinctively crouched to the ground, pulling Bellamy down with her. The chaos unfolded in an instant—several of the anomaly people fell to the ground, their crystalline suits cracking under the impact of the bullets. Even the bald man staggered backward, clutching his chest as he hit the ground.

“Hold your fire!” Clarke shouted, her voice cutting through the chaos, though it was too late. The damage was done.

She spun around, her heart pounding, and saw Octavia, Gabriel, and Hope rising from behind a bush, their weapons still trained on the fallen figures. On the opposite side, Niylah, Jordan, Miller, and Jackson emerged from another cluster of trees, their faces determined but tense.

“What are you doing here?” Clarke demanded, her voice sharp and filled with a mix of shock and anger. “I told you to stay back!”

“We couldn’t just sit and wait,” Octavia said, her tone defiant as she lowered her weapon. “Not when they were threatening you.”

Hope stepped forward, her eyes scanning the scene nervously. “We thought you might need backup,” she said, her voice quieter.

Clarke opened her mouth to respond, but her attention was drawn to a faint shimmer in the air behind her. Her breath caught as the shimmer flickered and then solidified, revealing another anomaly person. Her hand moved to her weapon instinctively, but before she could act, the figure reached up and removed their helmet.

The group froze as the crystalline helmet came off, revealing Raven beneath it. Her face was calm but resolute, her dark eyes meeting Clarke’s with a mix of determination and guilt.

“Raven?” Clarke asked, her voice filled with confusion and disbelief. “What the hell is going on?”

Raven exhaled, tossing the helmet to the ground. “I couldn’t let you do this alone,” she said, her voice steady. “So I improvised.”

“You stole one of their suits?” Bellamy asked, his voice a mix of incredulity and anger.

“Yeah,” Raven said matter-of-factly, glancing at the fallen anomaly people. “Figured if we were going to go up against these guys, I might as well get a closer look at how their tech works. And it worked.

Clarke’s mind raced as she tried to process what had just happened. She turned back to the bald man, who lay on the ground, still alive but breathing heavily. His piercing gaze locked onto hers, even as he clutched his chest.

“This… changes nothing,” he rasped, his voice strained but filled with conviction. “The anomaly will take what it needs. You cannot stop it.”

Clarke crouched beside him, her voice cold. “You’ve been threatening us, stalking us, and manipulating us. Now your people are dead or captured. Tell us what we need to know—or this ends here.”

The man’s faint smirk returned, even as blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. “You think this is the end?” he said weakly. “This is only the beginning.”

The tense silence shattered as the person Bellamy had been holding hostage suddenly lunged forward, attempting to escape. The move caught everyone off guard, but before anyone could react, a sharp blast echoed through the air. The figure stumbled, a smoking wound in their back as they collapsed lifelessly to the ground.

Clarke’s eyes widened in shock as she turned toward the source of the shot. It was Raven, her arm still extended, the weapon embedded in the wrist of the stolen anomaly suit faintly glowing. Raven slowly lowered her arm, her expression filled with regret and disbelief at what she had just done.

“Raven,” Clarke whispered, her voice trembling. “What did you just do?”

Raven didn’t look at her. Her gaze was locked on the body, her breathing uneven. “They were going to run,” she said, her voice barely audible. “If they got away, they’d bring more of them. I… I had to stop them.”

Bellamy stood frozen, his eyes darting between Raven, the lifeless body of the anomaly person, and the bald man groaning on the ground, clutching his wounded arm. His face was a mix of shock and disbelief, the weight of what had just happened pressing heavily on him.

Clarke, however, stepped forward with purpose. Her expression was hard, her jaw set as she loomed over the bald man. She knelt slightly, keeping her distance but making sure her voice carried authority.

“You want to send a message to your people?” Clarke said, her tone icy but controlled. “Then here it is.”

The bald man grimaced, blood seeping through his fingers as he pressed his hand to his injured arm. He managed to lift his head, his glowing symbol faint in the dim light. “You think… you have the upper hand,” he rasped. “You don’t understand… what you’re dealing with.”

Clarke’s eyes narrowed, and she leaned in slightly. “Maybe not,” she said. “But I understand one thing: we’re not your puppets. If you think you can threaten us, use us, and manipulate us into doing what you want, you’re wrong.”

The man let out a weak chuckle, his gaze filled with defiance. “You can delay… but you can’t escape. The anomaly has chosen.”

Clarke ignored his words, her voice growing firmer. “Go back to your people and tell them this: Sanctum isn’t their playground, and we’re not their tools. If they come for us again, we won’t just defend ourselves—we’ll finish what we started here.”

Bellamy finally spoke, his voice sharp and filled with anger. “You’ve been watching us, stalking us, threatening our people. Whatever it is you think we owe you, we don’t.”

Clarke nodded, her gaze locked on the bald man. “Tell them,” she continued, “that we’re not afraid of them, or their tech, or their so-called prophecy. If they want us to work with them, they’ll start by telling the truth. No more riddles. No more threats. Or next time, there won’t be a message.”

“Hope,” he called out, his words dripping with intent. “If you want your mother to live… Clarke Griffin and Bellamy Blake must go to Bardo.”

The air seemed to freeze, the weight of his words slamming into the group like a tidal wave. Hope’s face paled, and her breath hitched as she took a step forward, her eyes wide with fear and anger.

“What are you talking about?” she demanded, her voice trembling. “What have you done to her?”

The bald man’s smirk returned, weak but defiant. “She’s alive,” he said, his voice steadying despite his injury. “But her fate rests on their decision. Clarke and Bellamy are the key. Without them, she dies.”

Octavia stepped between Hope and the man, her face a mask of fury. “You’re lying,” she spat. “You’re just trying to manipulate us.”

The man tilted his head, his glowing symbol flickering faintly. “Believe what you want,” he said. “But you know the truth, Octavia. You’ve seen it. You’ve felt the anomaly’s power. Do you really think your journey through it was meaningless?”

Hope’s hands clenched into fists, her voice breaking as she shouted, “Where is she? What have you done to her?”

The man’s gaze softened slightly, almost as if he pitied her. “She’s on Bardo,” he said. “She’s waiting. But time is running out. The passage must be completed, or the cycle will fail—and so will she.”

Clarke exchanged a tense glance with Bellamy, her mind racing. The threat against Hope’s mother added another layer of urgency, but it also confirmed that these people were willing to use anything—and anyone—as leverage.

The sharp crack of a gunshot echoed through the clearing, cutting through the tense silence like a blade. Clarke flinched instinctively, her heart skipping a beat as the bald man crumpled to the ground, a single bullet hole in his head. Blood pooled beneath him, his glowing symbol fading as life drained from his body.

“What the hell?!” Clarke shouted, turning sharply to see Raven standing a few feet away, her arm still raised and the weapon embedded in the wrist of her anomaly suit faintly smoking. Her expression was hard, but there was a flicker of guilt in her eyes.

Hope let out a scream, rushing forward but stopping just short of the man’s body. “What did you just do?!” she cried, her voice trembling with fury and despair. “He was the only one who knew where my mom is”

Bellamy stepped toward Raven, his voice rising with anger. “You just killed our only leverage, Raven! What were you thinking?”

Raven’s jaw tightened, and she lowered her arm slowly, her breathing unsteady. “He was dangerous,” she said, her voice firm but trembling slightly. “He was manipulating us—using Hope’s mom as bait. He was never going to let us go to Bardo without a fight.”

“That doesn’t mean you just kill him!” Clarke exclaimed, her voice filled with disbelief. “We needed him! He was the only one who could give us answers!”

Raven turned to Clarke, her eyes blazing. “And you think he would’ve just handed those answers over? He was a threat, Clarke. To all of us. He wasn’t going to stop.”

Hope stepped forward, her hands clenched into fists. “He was our only lead,” she said, her voice breaking. “My mom is still out there, and now we don’t know where—or if she’s even alive.”

Octavia moved to Hope’s side, placing a hand on her shoulder to steady her. “Hope’s right,” she said, her tone sharp. “You might’ve just cost us the only chance we had to find her.”

Raven looked between them, her resolve cracking as the weight of what she’d done settled in. “I didn’t want to do it,” she said, her voice softer now. “But I couldn’t let him keep threatening us. He was dangerous, and you know it.”

Bellamy shook his head, his expression hard. “Dangerous, sure. But now we’re in the dark. What’s the plan now, Raven? Because you just made this a hell of a lot harder.”

Clarke exhaled sharply, trying to suppress the rising frustration and panic in her chest. She stepped closer to Raven, lowering her voice but not her intensity. “We’re all trying to protect each other,” she said. “But this—this wasn’t the way.”

Raven’s shoulders slumped, and she finally lowered her gaze, guilt and frustration etched into her face. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I was trying to keep us safe.”

Clarke took a deep breath, glancing down at the bald man’s lifeless body before looking back at the group. “We can’t undo what just happened,” she said. “But we still have the anomaly stone. If what he said is true, we can still get to Bardo.”

“How?” Hope asked, her voice sharp and filled with anger. “He was the one who knew how to activate it.”

Raven, still clutching the faintly smoking wrist of the anomaly suit, took a steadying breath and raised her voice to the group. “Not necessarily,” she said, cutting through the rising tension. Everyone turned to her, their anger and confusion still simmering.

“I’ve got this,” Raven continued, holding up the anomaly helmet she’d taken earlier. “This thing isn’t just for show—it’s connected to their tech. I’ve already seen it scan Clarke and pull up detailed info. If I can figure out how to use it, we can still get to Bardo. We don’t need him.”

Clarke raised an eyebrow, still rattled by what had just happened. “Raven,” she said carefully, “are you saying you can activate the anomaly stone?”

Raven gave a small, determined nod. “I’m saying I can try. These suits, the helmets—they’re linked to the stone. If I can get it to work, we’ll have a direct path to Bardo.”

Hope’s eyes lit up slightly, her frustration turning into the faintest glimmer of hope. “And if you do?” she asked, her voice hesitant. “We can go there? To Bardo? And find my mom?”

“That’s the plan,” Raven replied, her voice steady despite the weight of the moment. “We use their tech, we get to Bardo, and we get Diyoza out.”

Gaia, who had been silent until now, stepped forward with an air of authority. “Then that’s what we do,” she said firmly, her voice filled with conviction. “We go to Bardo, we get Diyoza, and we put an end to this nonsense. This prophecy, this war—whatever it is. It stops here.”

Bellamy crossed his arms, his expression still tense. “And what happens when we get there?” he asked. “We have no idea what we’re walking into. No idea what kind of resistance we’ll face.”

“Then we figure it out when we get there,” Gaia replied sharply. “We don’t sit here and wait for more of these people to show up and threaten us. We take the fight to them.”

As the group descended into the small basement beneath Gabriel’s tent, the air felt heavy with anticipation. The anomaly stone stood at the center of the room, its intricate symbols glowing faintly in the dim light. The group gathered around it, the hum of its energy filling the silence.

Gabriel gestured toward the stone, his voice calm but laced with reverence. “This is the anomaly stone,” he said. “We found it shortly after we landed on this moon. It’s ancient—older than anything we’ve ever encountered. And its connection to the anomaly is undeniable.”

Raven stepped forward, her eyes wide with fascination as she traced the glowing symbols with her fingers. “This… this is incredible,” she whispered, almost to herself. “Whoever built this, they’re light-years ahead of us. The technology, the craftsmanship—it’s outstanding.”

She exhaled deeply, then put on the anomaly helmet she had taken from the anomaly people. The moment it clicked into place, the helmet began to emit a soft hum, and its visor lit up with swirling patterns of data. Raven’s voice came through, slightly muffled. “Alright, let’s see what you’ve got.”

The helmet began scanning the stone, its symbols lighting up in response to the data exchange. Raven’s head tilted slightly as she processed the information appearing on the helmet’s display. “It’s giving me options,” she said, her voice filled with awe. “Multiple destinations. Each one corresponds to a different set of symbols.”

Clarke stepped closer, her heart racing. “Which one is Bardo?” she asked, her voice urgent. “Can you tell?”

Raven shook her head, her frustration evident. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “These symbols—they’re a language, but it’s not one I recognize. Without a key to translate them, I have no idea what they mean.”

Gabriel frowned, stepping beside Raven to study the glowing stone. “I’ve been trying to decipher these symbols for years,” he said. “But I’ve only scratched the surface. If the helmet is connected to their network, it might have the answers—but they could be encoded.”

Octavia, standing protectively near Hope, spoke up. “So what do we do?” she asked, her tone sharp. “We can’t just guess.”

Raven sighed, her hands hovering over the stone. “We might not have a choice,” she said. “If I had more time, I could try to figure out what each set of symbols corresponds to. But right now, it’s a gamble.”

Bellamy frowned, his voice tense. “And if we pick the wrong one?”

“We could end up anywhere,” Raven said, her tone grim. “Another planet, another anomaly site—or worse.”

Clarke’s chest tightened as she looked at the glowing stone. The stakes were higher than ever, and the uncertainty of their situation weighed heavily on her. She glanced at Bellamy, who met her gaze with a mixture of worry and resolve.

“We don’t have time to figure it all out,” Clarke said finally, her voice steady. “If this is the only way to get to Bardo and save Diyoza, we have to take the risk.”

Raven hesitated, then nodded. “Alright,” she said. “I’ll do my best to figure out which one could be Bardo, but we’re going in blind.”

As Raven touched the glowing symbols on the anomaly stone, the faint hum in the room grew louder. The ground beneath their feet began to tremble slightly, sending a ripple of unease through the group. Clarke instinctively reached out to steady herself, her eyes darting toward Raven.

“Raven?” Clarke asked, her voice tense. “What’s happening?”

Raven didn’t respond immediately. Her helmet emitted a series of soft beeps, and her fingers hovered over the symbols as if she were following invisible instructions. The green glow from the stone intensified, casting eerie patterns across the walls.

“The helmet is… guiding me,” Raven said, her voice a mix of awe and apprehension. “It’s telling me which symbols to touch.”

Bellamy stepped closer, his hand resting on the hilt of his weapon. “What do you mean, ‘telling you’?” he asked, his tone sharp. “Are you sure we can trust it?”

Raven glanced at him briefly, her expression focused but unsure. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “But if it’s connected to the stone’s system, it might know how to activate it properly. This might be our way to Bardo.”

Octavia stood protectively near Hope, her eyes narrowing as she watched the glowing symbols shift and rearrange. “Or it could be a trap,” she muttered, her voice low. “How do we know it’s not leading us to something worse?”

Gabriel, who had been observing intently, spoke up. “The anomaly stone reacts to specific sequences,” he explained. “If the helmet is synced to its system, it might be accessing encoded pathways—wormholes to other planets. But it’s still a risk.”

Clarke exhaled deeply, the weight of the moment pressing down on her. She looked at Raven, her voice steady but filled with urgency. “If the helmet is guiding you, follow it. But be careful.”

Raven nodded, her fingers moving with purpose as she touched another sequence of symbols. The tremors in the ground grew stronger, and the green glow from the stone pulsed rhythmically, almost like a heartbeat. The hum in the air became louder, resonating in their chests.

“This is it,” Raven said, her voice tight with focus. “It’s activating something. I think… I think this is the right pathway.”

The group exchanged uneasy glances as the glow from the stone began to swirl, forming a vortex of green light that hovered above its surface. It was mesmerizing and terrifying all at once.

Bellamy stepped closer to Clarke, his voice low. “Are we really doing this?” he asked.

Clarke glanced at him, her eyes filled with determination. “If this takes us to Bardo, we have to,” she said. “For Diyoza. For Hope. For everyone.”

Raven touched the final symbol, and the vortex above the stone erupted into a blinding column of light. The ground steadied, and the hum subsided, leaving only the swirling green portal behind.

“It’s ready,” Raven said, pulling off the helmet and exhaling deeply. “The helmet says this is the way to Bardo I believe. But once we go through, there’s no guarantee we’ll be able to come back.”

Clarke looked at the portal, then back at her group. “We’ve come this far,” she said. “We finish what we started.”

As the swirling green vortex illuminated the small basement, Clarke turned away from the anomaly stone to face Gaia. The hum of the portal filled the air, but Clarke’s focus was on the woman who had been a steadfast ally through so much.

“Gaia,” Clarke said softly, stepping closer to her. “I need you to stay behind.”

Gaia’s brow furrowed, her confusion evident. “Clarke, I can fight. If you’re going to Bardo, I should be there.”

Clarke shook her head, her voice steady but filled with emotion. “This isn’t about fighting. It’s about Madi. You know her better than anyone, Gaia. She needs someone here who understands her—who can protect her. If something happens to us…”

“Don’t say that,” Gaia interrupted, her voice firm but laced with worry. “You’re coming back.”

Clarke managed a faint smile. “But if we don’t, you’re the one I trust to keep her safe. She needs you.”

Gaia’s expression softened, and she nodded, though her reluctance was clear. “I understand,” she said quietly. She stepped forward and pulled Clarke into a firm hug. “Be safe, Clarke,” she whispered. 

Clarke closed her eyes briefly, letting the warmth of the hug steady her. “Thank you, Gaia,” she said softly. “For everything.”

Clarkes jaw tightening as she turned back to the swirling green portal. The weight of her responsibilities pressed heavily on her, but she knew Gaia was right—she had to bring everyone back.

As Clarke stepped through the swirling anomaly, a chill immediately enveloped her. The green light faded behind her, and when she turned, the portal disappeared completely, leaving nothing but the sound of the cold, crisp wind.

She pulled her jacket tighter around herself, her breath visible in the frigid air. The landscape before her was vast and stark—a snowy, alien terrain that stretched out endlessly. The ground sparkled faintly under the light of a distant sun that barely warmed the icy surface. The sky above was a deep, dark expanse, filled with countless stars, brighter and closer than she had ever seen before.

Bellamy stepped up beside her, his boots crunching against the snow-like surface. “What is this place?” he asked, his voice low, almost reverent.

“I don’t know,” Clarke replied, her breath hitching as she took it all in. “But it’s beautiful.”

Raven emerged next, clutching the helmet under her arm and glancing around. Her scientific curiosity momentarily overpowered her unease. “The atmosphere is thin but breathable,” she said. “Barely any vegetation. Minimal oxygen, but enough to sustain us. This place wasn’t made for humans, but it’s… close.”

Gabriel stepped through next, visibly shivering but wide-eyed with wonder. “This is incredible,” he murmured. “A planet like this shouldn’t be able to support life, but… it’s been altered somehow. Engineered, maybe?”

Echo and Octavia followed, weapons drawn, their sharp eyes scanning the terrain. Octavia’s breath fogged in the air as she spoke. “If this is Bardo, where’s the compound? Where are the people?”

Clarke glanced around, her instincts on high alert. The silence was unnerving—too still, too empty. “They wouldn’t bring us here just to abandon us,” she said. “There has to be something. A reason.”

Hope was the last to step through, her expression a mix of awe and dread. She immediately moved to Octavia’s side, her gaze darting around the unfamiliar landscape. “Do you think she’s here?” she asked quietly. “Do you think my mom’s somewhere on this planet?”

Octavia put a hand on her shoulder, squeezing gently. “We’ll find her, Hope. Whatever it takes.”

Raven knelt near the ground, inspecting the strange, icy surface. “There’s something under the snow,” she said, brushing it aside to reveal a faintly glowing line etched into the ground. “A pathway, maybe?”

Gabriel crouched beside her, tracing the glowing line with his fingers. “It’s some kind of tech,” he said, his voice tinged with excitement. “Leading somewhere.”

Bellamy stepped forward, his gaze following the faint glowing lines as they stretched out into the distance. “Looks like a trail,” he said. “We follow it.”

Clarke nodded, her resolve hardening. “If this is Bardo, then we need to find answers. And we need to find Diyoza.”

The group began to move, their footsteps crunching softly in the snow. The glowing lines beneath the surface grew brighter as they walked, casting an eerie light on their path. Clarke’s heart pounded as she scanned the horizon, her mind racing with questions.

This planet, this place—it was unlike anything she had ever seen. Beautiful yet haunting, barren yet filled with promise. Whatever lay ahead, she knew one thing for certain: there was no turning back.

Chapter Text

As the group trudged across the frozen expanse, their boots crunching against the icy surface, Octavia broke the tense silence with a dry remark. “How could anybody even live here?” she muttered, pulling her jacket tighter against the biting wind. “This place feels like it’s trying to kill us.”

Gabriel glanced over at her, his breath visible in the frigid air. “People adapt,” he replied, his tone speculative. “If there’s a compound here, it’s probably engineered to make this environment survivable. Artificial oxygen, controlled temperatures, sustainable resources—it could all be underground.”

Jackson adjusted his med pack as he walked, squinting against the faint glow of the glowing path underfoot. “Maybe it’s more than just surviving,” he suggested. “Maybe they chose this planet for a reason.”

“Yeah,” Miller muttered from the back, his tone sarcastic. “Like freezing to death builds character.”

Jordan walked a little ahead of him, looking up at the dark sky filled with an impossible number of stars. “Or maybe they didn’t choose it at all,” he said softly, his voice carrying just enough for the group to hear. “Maybe, like us, they ended up here because they didn’t have a choice.”

Hope, walking beside Octavia, tightened her grip on the strap of her pack, her gaze fixed on the endless white horizon. “If my mom’s here, then she’s surviving somehow,” she said firmly, though her voice wavered. “She’s strong. She’d find a way.”

Clarke adjusted the scarf around her face, her eyes scanning for any sign of life beyond the shimmering pathway. “If they brought us here,” she said, her voice steady, “it’s because they wanted us to see something.”

Bellamy, walking just behind her, nodded in agreement. “They said there’s an underground compound,” he reminded everyone. “If it’s here, we’ll find it. And if Diyoza’s here, we’re getting her out.”

Octavia sighed, kicking at the icy surface as she walked. “Still feels like a waste of a planet,” she muttered. “No trees, no rivers, nothing but ice and stars.”

Gabriel stopped suddenly, crouching down to brush snow off the glowing line beneath their feet. “This pathway,” he said, studying the faintly luminous markings etched into the ground. “It’s guiding us somewhere. The technology is far beyond anything I’ve ever seen—but it’s deliberate. Someone wanted us to follow it.”

“Or it’s a trap,” Miller pointed out grimly, gripping his weapon a little tighter. “You know, just saying.”

The group ascended a snowy hill, the biting wind whipped against their faces, the cold gnawing through their layers. Clarke shivered and glanced at Raven, who was trudging alongside her, still wearing the anomaly helmet.

“I wonder how cold it actually is out here,” Clarke muttered, her breath forming small clouds in the frigid air.

Raven turned her head slightly, the helmet humming faintly as it processed the environment around her. “The helmet’s reading it at about two degrees Fahrenheit,” she replied, her voice slightly muffled. “So, you know, practically a sauna.”

Clarke gave a small laugh despite herself. “Two degrees? How are we even standing right now?”

“The atmosphere is weird here,” Raven explained, tapping the side of the helmet. “There’s oxygen, but not much else. The helmet’s picking up trace amounts of nitrogen, carbon dioxide… and something I can’t identify. Honestly, this technology is so cool.” She chuckled to herself. “It’s like having my own personal science lab strapped to my head.”

Bellamy, walking just ahead of them, glanced over his shoulder. “Let’s just hope that ‘something you can’t identify’ isn’t dangerous.”

Raven smirked, giving him a quick shrug. “Well, we’re still breathing, aren’t we? If it’s dangerous, it’s taking its sweet time.”

Gabriel, walking beside her, couldn’t help but chime in. “Whoever built this technology clearly had survival in mind. It’s incredible how advanced this is, even compared to the anomaly itself. If we can figure out how it works—”

“We survive first,” Octavia interrupted, her tone sharp as she walked just behind them. “Then we figure out how it works.”

Miller grunted in agreement, his weapon at the ready as he scanned the horizon. “Raven’s right about one thing: this place is unforgiving. Let’s hope we find shelter soon, or none of this tech will matter.”

Clarke nodded, her eyes focused on the faint outline of the structure ahead. The closer they got, the more her curiosity grew, even as her unease deepened. The glowing path beneath their feet still pulsed faintly, guiding them forward, but the cold seemed to seep into her very bones.

Raven tapped the helmet again, glancing at Clarke. “If this thing keeps working like it is, we might actually have a shot at figuring out what the hell is going on here,” she said, her tone lighter. “Not that I want to make a habit of walking through wormholes to frozen wastelands.”

“Let’s hope this is the last one,” Clarke muttered, though she couldn’t shake the feeling that their journey was only just beginning.

As the group finally crested the snowy hill, the sight before them stole the breath from their lungs. A massive facility loomed in the distance, its angular structures built seamlessly into the side of a towering snowy mountain. The facility glowed faintly, with sharp lines of blue and green light cutting through the icy white of the landscape. Its scale was overwhelming, a testament to the advanced technology of whoever had created it.

Gabriel stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes wide with awe. “That’s… incredible,” he whispered. “Whoever built this, their engineering is light-years ahead of anything we’ve ever seen. This is… outstanding.”

Clarke, standing beside him, felt a mix of wonder and unease. “It’s beautiful,” she admitted, her voice low. “But it also looks like a fortress.”

Miller, just behind them, narrowed his eyes as he studied the structure. “Let’s just hope there are actual humans in there,” he muttered, his tone cautious. “And not… I don’t know, aliens or something.”

Jordan, walking a little ahead, turned to him with a grin. “What’s wrong with aliens?” he teased. “I mean, it would be kind of cool to meet one, right? As long as they don’t, you know, try to kill us.”

Miller rolled his eyes. “Yeah, because that’s exactly what we need right now. As if the anomaly people weren’t enough.”

Octavia smirked, pulling her jacket tighter against the cold. “If there are aliens in there, they better know how to make a decent fire,” she muttered. “This place is freezing.”

Raven, still wearing the anomaly helmet, adjusted it slightly as she scanned the facility. “The helmet’s picking up all kinds of energy readings,” she said. “Power levels are off the charts. Whoever’s in there, they’re not just surviving—they’re thriving.”

Bellamy broke the silence, his voice low and tense. “This place… it reminds me of Mount Weather,” he said, his eyes scanning the angular design and the faint glow of lights emanating from within. The memory of that place—and everything they endured there—hung heavily in his tone.

Clarke glanced at him, her expression softening. She understood his apprehension; the comparison was hard to ignore. “It’s not the same,” she said firmly, her voice steady but gentle. “Mount Weather was a bunker. This… this feels different.”

Bellamy gave her a sidelong glance, his skepticism evident. “Different how?” he asked, his tone laced with caution. “It’s a fortress built into a mountain, probably full of people who think they’re better than us and want to control everything. Sounds pretty familiar to me.”

Clarke stopped walking for a moment, turning to face him fully. “Because this time, we’re not walking in blind,” she said, her tone resolute. “We know what we’re dealing with—or at least, we know enough to be careful. And we’re stronger now, Bellamy. We’ve survived worse.”

Bellamy looked into her eyes, the tension in his shoulders softening slightly. He let out a breath and nodded. “You’re right,” he said quietly. “But I can’t help feeling like this place has the same kind of danger written all over it.”

Raven, still adjusting her helmet as she walked, chimed in with a sarcastic tone. “Well, at least there’s no acid fog this time, right?”

Bellamy smirked faintly, shaking his head. “Small mercies.”

As the facility loomed larger in the distance, the faint hum of its energy grew louder, and the glowing pathway beneath their feet pulsed with an almost hypnotic rhythm. Bellamy fell into step beside Clarke, his wariness still present but tempered by her words.

–

As the group neared the imposing structure, Clarke raised her hand, signaling for everyone to stop. The glowing lines beneath their feet continued to pulse faintly, leading directly toward the facility, but Clarke’s instincts screamed for caution.

“Hold up,” she said, her voice low but commanding. The group immediately halted, their breaths visible in the icy air. Clarke turned to face them, her expression serious. “We don’t know what we’re walking into. If this really is Bardo, they might already be expecting us.”

Bellamy nodded, his jaw tightening. “Especially since we killed some of their people back near the anomaly,” he said grimly. “They’ll see us as a threat.”

Raven adjusted her helmet, scanning the structure ahead with the suit’s enhanced vision. “The helmet isn’t picking up any immediate movement outside the facility,” she reported, “but that doesn’t mean much. If they’re smart—and they seem like they are—they’ve got defenses we can’t see.”

Octavia shifted her grip on her weapon, her gaze locked on the mountain. “So what’s the plan?” she asked. “We just stand here and wait for them to come to us?”

“No,” Clarke said firmly, glancing around the group. “But we need to be smart. If they know we’re coming—and they probably do—they’ll either try to force us in on their terms or keep us out altogether. Either way, we need to stay one step ahead.”

Gabriel crouched slightly, studying the glowing lines beneath their feet. “These pathways,” he said thoughtfully, “they’re deliberate. They’re leading us somewhere. If this facility is as advanced as it looks, they might already be tracking us.”

“That’s comforting,” Miller muttered, gripping his rifle a little tighter.

Jordan stepped forward, his gaze darting between the group and the facility. “If they’re expecting us,” he said, “maybe we use that to our advantage. Make them think we’re coming peacefully. At least long enough to get inside.”

Raven snorted softly. “Yeah, because that’s gone so well for us in the past.”

Bellamy glanced at Clarke, his expression a mix of concern and determination. “So what do we do?” he asked. “You’re the one who got us this far. What’s the call?”

Clarke took a deep breath, her eyes narrowing as she looked at the facility. She could feel the weight of the group’s trust and the stakes of their mission pressing down on her. Finally, she spoke.

“We go in carefully,” she said. “Raven, use the helmet to keep scanning for anything unusual—movements, traps, anything we might be missing. The rest of us stay alert and keep our weapons ready. If they want to talk, we let them start the conversation. But if it’s a trap…”

Her voice trailed off, and Bellamy finished her thought. “We fight our way out,” he said.

Clarke nodded. “Exactly. Stay close. Watch each other’s backs. And whatever happens, we don’t stop until we find Diyoza.”

The cold silence was shattered by a sudden scream. Clarke’s heart stopped as she spun around to see Raven clutching her arm, blood already staining the snow beneath her. The faint crack of a shot echoed in the distance, confirming what had just happened.

“Raven!” Clarke yelled, rushing to her side and grabbing her shoulders to steady her. “You’re hit!”

Raven groaned through gritted teeth, her free hand pressing against the wound to stem the bleeding. “I’m fine,” she muttered, though her pale face and shaking hands said otherwise.

Blood seeped through her fingers, dripping onto the stark white snow as Jackson dropped his pack and quickly began rummaging for his first aid kit. “Let me see,” he said urgently, kneeling beside her. “Raven, you need to keep pressure on it until I can clean it.”

Bellamy crouched near Clarke, scanning the snowy expanse with narrowed eyes. “Someone sees us,” he muttered, gripping his weapon tighter. “They’re watching, and they’re not interested in talking.”

Miller immediately raised his rifle, his sharp eyes darting across the terrain. “I don’t see anyone,” he said, his voice low but tense. “But if they’ve got a sniper, they’re probably hidden.”

Clarke turned to Raven, who was now wincing as Jackson began applying pressure to her arm. “Raven, does the helmet pick up anything? Can you see where they’re shooting from?”

Raven blinked rapidly, adjusting the helmet with her uninjured hand. The display flickered faintly as it scanned the area. “No,” she said through clenched teeth. “Nothing. Either they’re too far, or their tech is better than ours. The helmet’s not picking them up.”

The group scrambled behind a nearby snow-covered boulder, their breaths visible in the icy air as they crouched low for cover. The tension was palpable, the only sounds being their hurried breathing and the faint whistle of the cold wind. Clarke carefully pulled out her gun, her hands steady despite the adrenaline surging through her veins.

“I’m checking,” she whispered, glancing at Bellamy, who nodded and positioned himself to watch their flank.

Clarke slowly raised her head above the edge of the rock, scanning the snowy expanse in the direction the shot had come from. The landscape was quiet, the stark white expanse betraying no movement. The glowing path beneath them pulsed faintly, but the source of the attack remained invisible.

“I don’t see anything,” she said, her voice low but tense. “Whoever it is, they’re either hidden or using tech to cloak themselves.”

Bellamy leaned closer to her, his rifle in hand. “Or they’ve already moved,” he said, his jaw tight. “They could be trying to lure us out.”

Miller, crouched nearby, adjusted his weapon and squinted toward the facility in the distance. “If they’re herding us toward this facility, they’ll want us to keep moving,” he muttered. “We’re exposed out here.”

Jackson, kneeling beside Raven, quickly checked her bandages. “We can’t stay here long,” he said, his tone urgent but calm. “Raven needs proper care soon, or this could get worse.”

Raven winced, her teeth gritted, but she waved him off with her uninjured hand. “I’m fine,” she said, though her voice was strained. “Just figure out who’s shooting at us.”

Clarke exhaled sharply, lowering herself back behind the rock. Her mind raced as she considered their options. “We need to move,” she said, her voice steady despite the rising tension. “Staying here makes us sitting targets.”

Bellamy glanced at her, his tone cautious. “And walking into the open doesn’t exactly make us safer.”

Clarke nodded. “I know,” she said. “But the facility is our only chance. Whoever’s out there wants us to go to them—they wouldn’t risk scaring us off. That’s the only advantage we have.”

Bellamy hesitated for a moment before nodding. “Alright,” he said. “But we move carefully. No mistakes.”

Miller positioned himself at the edge of the boulder, ready to provide cover if needed. “I’ll take point,” he said. “If they shoot again, I’ll draw their fire.”

“No,” Clarke said firmly, shaking her head. “We stick together. Everyone stays low”

 Clarke took a deep breath, her grip tightening on her gun. Without warning, she darted out from behind the boulder, her gun raised and aimed high as she sprinted toward a closer snow-covered rock. Her boots crunched loudly against the icy surface, and every nerve in her body screamed at her to move faster.

“Clarke!” Bellamy hissed from behind their cover, his voice sharp and filled with frustration. “What the hell are you doing?!”

Clarke slid into place behind the new boulder, her back pressed against its cold surface as she scanned the horizon. “We can’t stay pinned down!” she called back, her breath visible in the freezing air. “We have to keep moving!”

Before Bellamy could respond, Octavia moved next, her gun raised and ready. She sprinted across the open space, her sharp eyes darting around for any sign of movement. She slid into place beside Clarke, her breathing heavy but controlled.

“This is insane,” Bellamy muttered under his breath, his grip tightening on his weapon as he watched his sister. “Clarke, you can’t just—”

“I can’t just do what, Bellamy?” Clarke cut him off, peering around the edge of the boulder. “Sit here and wait to be picked off? We have to push forward, or we’ll all freeze out here.”

Octavia nodded in agreement, her voice low but determined. “She’s right. If they’re trying to herd us, we need to move on our terms, not theirs.”

Bellamy cursed under his breath, his jaw tight as he looked back at the others. “Fine,” he relented. “But we stick together. No more solo runs, Clarke.”

Clarke gave him a sharp nod but didn’t respond. Her focus was locked on the facility ahead, the glowing lines beneath the snow drawing them closer to whatever waited inside.

“Alright,” Bellamy said, motioning for Miller and Gabriel to follow. “Move in pairs. Keep your weapons up and your heads down. If anyone sees anything, call it out immediately.”

As Miller, Bellamy, and Niylah moved cautiously toward the next bit of cover, Clarke remained in position, her eyes scanning the snowy terrain. Behind her, Jackson knelt beside Raven, carefully checking her arm. “Are you ready to move?” he asked gently.

Raven nodded, her jaw tight despite the pain. “I’m fine,” she muttered. “We just need to keep going.”

Clarke stood up, preparing to give a signal to the others, when she heard Raven’s voice cut through the cold air, sharp and urgent.

“Clarke! Watch out!”

Before Clarke could fully process the warning, a figure burst out of the snow just feet from her. The attacker wore a sleek, black combat suit that shimmered faintly in the dim light. The helmet covering their face was unlike anything Clarke had seen before—sleek and angular, with a glowing, glass-like visor that pulsed faintly with a blue hue. It was nothing like the crystalline suits worn by the anomaly people. This was more advanced, more menacing.

The guard lunged at her with surprising speed, their movements precise and fluid. Clarke barely had time to react, raising her gun to block the blow from the weapon in their hand—a staff-like object that crackled with energy at its ends. Sparks flew as the staff struck her weapon, and the sheer force of the blow knocked her back a step.

“Clarke!” Bellamy shouted, turning just in time to see the guard closing in on her.

Clarke gritted her teeth, quickly sidestepping the next attack and firing off a shot. The bullet hit the guard’s armor but ricocheted off harmlessly, the advanced material absorbing the impact. The guard swung their staff again, aiming for her legs. Clarke managed to dodge, her heart pounding as she realized she was outmatched in close combat.

Octavia didn’t hesitate. She bolted from her cover, her gun raised as she shouted, “Get down, Clarke!”

Clarke dropped to the ground just as Octavia opened fire. Several shots rang out, hitting the guard squarely in the chest. Unlike before, these shots seemed to stagger them, though the armor absorbed most of the impact. The guard stumbled but quickly recovered, turning their glowing visor toward Octavia.

Just as Clarke struggled against the first guard, their staff sparking dangerously close to her face, Bellamy’s instincts kicked in. He rushed forward, grabbing the attacker by their arm and shoulder, and yanked them off of Clarke with all his strength.

“Get off her!” Bellamy roared, his voice filled with fury. The force of his attack sent the guard stumbling back a few steps, but they quickly regained their balance, their glowing visor turning toward him.

Clarke scrambled back to her feet, her gun raised, but the guard moved with inhuman speed, swinging their electrified staff at Bellamy. Bellamy barely ducked in time, the crackling energy of the staff slicing through the air just above his head. He stepped back, positioning himself between the guard and Clarke, his rifle at the ready.

“We don’t have time for this!” Bellamy yelled, his voice sharp with urgency. “Clarke, stay behind me!”

But before anyone could act further, another guard appeared out of the snow, their shimmering black combat suit making them almost invisible against the icy backdrop. They moved silently, closing in on Octavia from behind.

“Octavia!” Hope screamed, her voice cutting through the chaos.

Octavia spun just in time, raising her gun as the second guard lunged at her with a weapon similar to the first’s. The guard swung their staff, and Octavia blocked the blow with her rifle, sparks flying as the two weapons clashed.

“Not today!” Octavia snarled, her movements quick and precise as she dodged another swing and fired her gun. The bullets ricocheted off the guard’s armor, barely slowing them down.

The guard closed the distance, their staff crackling with energy. Octavia didn’t hesitate, dropping low and sweeping her leg in a swift arc to knock the guard off balance. They stumbled but didn’t fall, quickly recovering and swinging their staff downward. Octavia rolled to the side, narrowly avoiding the deadly strike, and fired another shot into the guard’s exposed leg joint. This time, the armor faltered, and the guard grunted in pain.

“Got you now,” Octavia muttered, her voice laced with determination as she fired again, forcing the guard back.

Meanwhile, Bellamy exchanged blows with the first guard, dodging the electrified staff and using his rifle to block the relentless strikes. Clarke, regaining her composure, aimed her gun and fired at the guard’s shoulder. The bullet hit, staggering them just enough for Bellamy to land a solid strike with the butt of his rifle.

“Clarke, go!” Bellamy shouted. “Get back to the others!”

“No!” Clarke yelled back, her voice fierce. “I’m not leaving you!”

Clarke refused to leave Bellamy, her determination unwavering as the chaos around them escalated. Gunfire and the crackling energy of the guards’ advanced weapons filled the frigid air.

From behind, Jordan aimed his rifle with surprising precision, shooting one of the guards who had been closing in on Raven and Jackson. The guard collapsed, their body skidding across the snow, leaving Raven and Jackson momentarily safe.

“They’re hunting us,” Gabriel muttered, his voice grim as he fired another shot. His gaze darted around the battlefield, his mind racing. 

Clarke turned to respond, but before she could say a word, a sharp crackling sound came from behind her. She barely had time to react before one of the guards’ electrified staffs slammed into her side, sending a jolt of electricity surging through her body. The pain was blinding, her muscles seizing as she let out a strangled gasp before collapsing into the snow.

“Clarke!” Bellamy’s voice roared through the chaos, raw with panic.

Clarke’s vision blurred, the freezing snow against her cheek doing little to counter the fiery pain coursing through her body. She struggled to move, to speak, but her limbs refused to cooperate. The world tilted, the sounds of the battle growing muffled as her consciousness began to slip away.

Through her fading vision, she saw Bellamy rushing toward her, only to be struck by another guard’s staff. The crackling energy hit him square in the chest, and he crumpled to the ground, his voice calling her name one last time before he, too, fell silent.

“Bellamy!” Octavia screamed, her voice cutting through Clarke’s disoriented mind. But before she could do anything, another guard appeared behind her, delivering the same shocking blow to her back. Octavia dropped to her knees, then onto the snow, her body twitching briefly before going still.

Clarke’s head lolled to the side, her vision narrowing to a dark tunnel. She could just make out a pair of boots crunching through the snow toward her. A figure loomed above her, the black combat suit shimmering faintly, the glowing helmet reflecting her dazed face on its surface.

The guard tilted their head, as though studying her, before crouching down. The last thing Clarke saw before everything went black was the faint pulsing light of the helmet’s visor and the eerie calm of the figure above her.

In the distance, she thought she could still hear Bellamy calling her name, but it faded quickly into nothingness. Then, darkness.

–

Clarke’s eyes fluttered open to the sound of a faint, rhythmic hum reverberating through the room. Her body ached as if she’d been hit by something, and her head throbbed with a dull pain. As her vision cleared, she realized she was lying on a cot in a sterile, dimly lit cell. The walls were sleek and metallic, with a faint sheen that reflected the low light. A glass door faced her, the edges lined with what looked like reinforced panels, making it clear it was meant to withstand more than just brute force.

To her left, a small partition hid a compact metal toilet and sink, the design eerily reminiscent of the cells on the Ark, though this was far more advanced. The hum seemed to emanate from the walls themselves, a reminder of the tech that likely powered the facility.

Her heart pounded as she sat up slowly, her muscles protesting every movement. Panic started to creep in, but then, like a lifeline, she heard his voice.

“Clarke?” Bellamy’s voice was low, filled with concern, and it came from just beyond her line of sight.

Clarke blinked a few times, her eyes adjusting to the dim, sterile light of the cell. The humming sound in the walls and the faint vibration beneath her feet added to the disorientation. She sat up slowly, her body aching, but a familiar voice cut through the haze, grounding her.

“Clarke,” Bellamy said softly, his tone calm but edged with concern. “You’re awake.”

She turned her head to see him sitting on the edge of the cot across from her, the two of them confined in the same metallic room. The sight of him brought her a wave of relief. He was alive—bruised and tired, but alive. He leaned forward slightly, his forearms resting on his knees. His black Henley clung to him, his coat nowhere in sight, leaving him exposed to the chilly atmosphere of the room.

Clarke instinctively reached up to feel her own arms, realizing her leather jacket was also gone. She was left in just her dark blue long-sleeve shirt, and though the room wasn’t freezing, the absence of their outer layers made her feel vulnerable.

“They took our jackets,” she murmured, her voice hoarse. She glanced around the room, noting its stark design: metal walls, a smooth concrete floor, and a single glass door reinforced with a glowing frame. A small metal partition obscured a sink and toilet in the corner.

Bellamy nodded grimly. “Yeah, and probably anything else they thought could be a weapon,” he said, glancing down at his empty belt. “They left the basics but stripped us of anything useful.”

Clarke rubbed her temple, trying to shake the fog from her mind. “Do you know where we are?” she asked, her voice steadying.

Bellamy shook his head, frustration flashing in his eyes. “No. I woke up here with you maybe fifteen minutes ago. Same as you—jacket gone, weapons gone, no clue how we got here.” He leaned back against the wall, crossing his arms. “The last thing I remember is them shocking us.”

Clarke nodded slowly, her memory of the attack coming back in flashes: the guard’s staff crackling with energy, the excruciating pain, and Bellamy screaming her name as she blacked out. “The others,” she said suddenly, her voice sharp with urgency. “Do you think they’re—”

“They’re alive,” Bellamy interrupted firmly, meeting her gaze. “They wouldn’t have just left them behind. Whoever these people are, they didn’t bring us here to kill us—not yet, anyway.”

Clarke stood on her shaky legs and moved closer to the glass door, studying it intently. The faint blue glow around its frame suggested some kind of advanced locking mechanism, likely reinforced with tech far beyond anything they’d encountered before. “This glass—it looks bulletproof,” she observed.

Bellamy stood, joining her at the door. He placed a hand against the cold surface, peering out into the corridor beyond. “No guards,” he said quietly. “At least, not that we can see.”

The faint hum in the walls grew louder, and the corridor outside their cell lit up with a sterile white light. Footsteps echoed in the distance, growing closer. Clarke and Bellamy exchanged a tense look, bracing themselves for whatever—or whoever—was coming.

A couple of hours had passed, the sterile hum of the cell’s walls the only sound accompanying Clarke and Bellamy. Clarke lay on the cot, her gaze fixed on the smooth, metallic ceiling above her. Her mind raced with possibilities, scenarios, and questions, each one more frustrating than the last. She couldn’t shake the feeling of helplessness, and her fingers absently tapped against the edge of the cot.

“You’re fidgeting,” Bellamy said from his spot on the opposite side of the cell, his voice light but edged with exhaustion. “Stop. It’s making me nervous.”

Clarke turned her head to look at him, her brow furrowed. “I can’t just sit here doing nothing, Bellamy. We need answers—soon.”

Bellamy leaned back against the wall, crossing his arms. “I know, Clarke,” he said, his tone steady. “But pacing and tapping aren’t going to magically make them walk in here and tell us what’s going on.”

Clarke sat up, swinging her legs over the side of the cot. “What if the others aren’t okay? What if we’re the only ones left?”

Bellamy shook his head firmly. “No. They’re alive,” he said, his voice leaving no room for doubt. “They wouldn’t separate us from them without a reason. Whoever brought us here wants something. They’ll keep the others alive—at least until they get it.”

Clarke sighed, leaning forward and running a hand through her hair. “That’s not exactly comforting.”

Bellamy smirked faintly, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Look, if you’re going to worry yourself into a spiral, at least let me get a nap first,” he said, his attempt at humor breaking the tension just a little.

Clarke couldn’t help but let out a small laugh, shaking her head. “You’re impossible.”

Before Bellamy could reply, a sharp whoosh echoed through the cell, drawing their attention to the glass door. Clarke sat up abruptly, and Bellamy stood, both on high alert as the door slid upward, disappearing seamlessly into the frame.

Beyond the now-open cell door stood a group of guards, their sleek black combat suits shimmering faintly under the sterile white light of the corridor. Their glowing visors concealed their faces, giving them an unsettlingly robotic appearance. Each held a staff similar to the ones used during the attack, the tips crackling faintly with latent energy.

At the center of the group stood a woman, her presence commanding without needing to say a word. She wore a fitted, grey futuristic outfit that seemed more ceremonial than practical, with subtle patterns etched into the fabric. Her blonde hair was tied into a pristine bun, and her posture was straight and poised. She looked to be in her mid-30s, with sharp, intelligent eyes that scanned the cell with a clinical detachment.

Clarke and Bellamy exchanged a glance, silently preparing themselves. Clarke took a cautious step forward, her heart pounding as the woman’s gaze settled on her.

The woman tilted her head slightly, a faint, almost polite smile appearing on her face. “Clarke Griffin,” she said, her voice smooth and calm, with a faint accent that Clarke couldn’t quite place. “And Bellamy Blake.” 

Bellamy broke the tense silence, his voice sharp and demanding. “How do you know our names?” he asked, his gaze fixed on the woman leading them.

The woman glanced over her shoulder, her expression remaining calm and composed. “You can thank your friend,” she said evenly, a faint trace of amusement in her tone. “The one who put on our disciple suit—the helmet gave us everything we needed.”

Clarke’s heart sank as her mind immediately went to Raven. Her stomach churned at the thought of what information the helmet might have revealed about them, their group, and their plans. She quickened her pace slightly, stepping closer to the woman, her voice firm and unyielding.

“Where are my friends?” Clarke demanded, her eyes narrowing. 

The woman slowed her steps, turning slightly to look at Clarke. Her sharp, intelligent eyes met Clarke’s, and for a brief moment, there was something almost resembling respect in her gaze. “Your friends are safe,” she repeated, her tone calm but unyielding. “They are being held in similar accommodations. Rest assured, they are receiving the same care and consideration you have.”

“That’s not good enough,” Bellamy snapped, stepping up beside Clarke. 

The woman gestured for Bellamy and Clarke to follow, her tone calm but firm. “Come,” she said. “You must be hungry, and I’m sure you have questions. Both will be addressed.”

Clarke and Bellamy exchanged cautious glances before stepping in line behind her. The guards moved into position behind them, their presence a constant reminder of the precarious situation they were in. As they walked, the soft hum of the facility accompanied their footsteps, and Clarke’s unease deepened.

They passed through a wide corridor with smooth metal walls and glowing blue accents. One side of the hallway featured large glass windows, offering a view of the outside. Clarke’s steps slowed as she glanced out at the surreal landscape. The sky was dark, with faint swirling patterns of light, and the ground was covered in jagged formations of what looked like black ice. The eerie glow of the distant sun cast long shadows over the terrain, giving it an otherworldly feel.

The woman noticed Clarke’s distraction and paused briefly, turning back to face her. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” she said, her voice carrying a hint of pride. “Welcome to the planet Nakara.”

Clarke stopped in her tracks, her brow furrowing as she processed the name. She turned to Bellamy, who looked just as confused as she felt, then back to the woman. “Nakara?” she asked, her voice sharp. “This isn’t Bardo?”

The woman smiled faintly, her composure unwavering. “No,” she said simply. “Nakara is a crucial waypoint in the pathway to Bardo. Think of it as… an outpost.”

As Clarke and Bellamy entered an office, they were struck by its stark yet futuristic design. The walls were black, sleek, and glossy, with glowing blue lines that pulsed faintly, giving the room an otherworldly feel. White accents framed the edges of the room, creating a sharp contrast against the darkness. Massive windows lined one side of the office, offering a clear view of the icy, desolate landscape of Nakara. The cold, alien beauty of the planet stretched out as far as the eye could see, jagged black ice formations glistening under the faint light from the distant sun.

Clarke felt the chill seep into her bones as she turned to the woman, her frustration boiling over. “Where the hell am I?” she demanded, her voice sharp. “What is this place?”

The woman turned to face Clarke and Bellamy fully, her hands clasped neatly in front of her. She remained composed, her icy demeanor a perfect match for the environment. “As I said before, you are on Nakara,” she replied calmly, her tone almost condescending in its precision.

Clarke clenched her fists, stepping forward. “What’s the point of bringing us here?” she snapped. “What do you want from us?”

The woman raised her hand slightly, signaling for calm. “You’ll have your answers, Clarke,” she said smoothly. “But first, allow me to introduce myself. My name is Kira. I serve as one of the leaders of this outpost.”

Kira clasped her hands behind her back as she stepped toward the windows, her gaze drifting to the icy expanse beyond. The blue light from the glowing accents reflected off her cold, composed expression.

“You see,” Kira began, her voice calm but firm, “when you and your group arrived on Nakara, you were considered threats. Trespassers on our planet. We have long-standing protocols for dealing with intruders, especially those who come through the anomaly.”

Clarke crossed her arms, her brow furrowed. “So you attacked us,” she said, her voice tight. “You hunted us.”

Kira turned to face her, her expression unflinching. “Yes,” she admitted without hesitation. “We believed you were allied with the Disciples. For years, we have been at war with them—an endless conflict that has cost us dearly. Anyone emerging from the anomaly is presumed to be one of their agents.”

Bellamy narrowed his eyes. “The Disciples,” he repeated. “Those are the people in the suits we fought near the anomaly?”

Kira nodded. “Correct. They are zealots, followers of a doctrine that claims they are the chosen saviors of humanity. They seek to control the anomaly, to use its power to reshape existence itself. To them, anyone who opposes their vision is expendable.”

Clarke clenched her fists, her voice sharp. “Then why stop attacking us? What changed?”

Kira’s gaze shifted to Clarke, her tone growing more measured. “When your friend”—she gestured subtly, likely referencing Raven—“put on one of their helmets, it triggered something we hadn’t seen before. The helmet’s data identified you, Clarke, as the key, and Bellamy as the guide. Those terms are not part of the Disciples’ standard data streams. They are… anomalous.”

Bellamy stepped closer, his jaw tight. “And what does that mean to you?”

“It means,” Kira said, her voice steady, “that you are not their agents. You are something else—something neither we nor the Disciples fully understand. That makes you valuable.”

Clarke’s stomach twisted at the implications. “So what?” she demanded. “You think we’re just tools to be used in your war?”

“Not tools,” Kira corrected, her tone growing colder. “Potential allies. Or, at the very least, an unknown factor that could tip the scales in this conflict. If what the data says about you is true, your involvement could change everything.”

Clarke’s fists clenched as the weight of Kira’s words sank in. Her frustration boiled over, and she took a step forward, her voice sharp and cutting. “I don’t care about your last war or whatever prophecy you’re talking about,” she snapped. “I’ve fought enough wars to last a lifetime. I just want my people safe.”

Kira’s expression remained composed, though her tone took on a faint edge of intrigue. “Your reaction is not unexpected,” she said calmly. “No one wants to believe they’re part of something greater, especially when it threatens to take away the life they know.”

Clarke shook her head, anger flashing in her eyes. “You’re not listening to me,” she said, her voice rising. “I don’t want to be part of your last war bullshit. Find someone else to fight it.”

Kira tilted her head slightly, her piercing gaze fixed on Clarke. “If only it were that simple,” she said. “This isn’t about belief or choice, Clarke. This is about what is. You can deny it all you want, but the prophecy—the anomaly, the data from the helmet—it all points to you and Bellamy.”

Bellamy stepped forward, placing a steadying hand on Clarke’s arm, his voice low but firm. “Prophecy?” he asked, his brow furrowed. “What exactly does this prophecy say?”

Kira turned her gaze to him, her expression softening just slightly. “The Disciples believe it foretells the unification of humanity,” she explained. “An end to conflict and division, guided by two leaders who will rise in humanity’s darkest hour. They call it the Last War, but it’s far more than just a battle. It’s a reckoning—a reset.”

Clarke scoffed, her frustration bubbling over. “That sounds like the kind of cult garbage we’ve dealt with before,” she said bitterly. “Why should we believe any of it?”

Kira’s faint smile returned, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “I understand your skepticism,” she said. “Most of the Disciples’ teachings are, as you so eloquently put it, bullshit. Rigid laws, blind devotion, endless training—it’s all meant to control. But the prophecy… that’s something different. Something no human can fully understand.”

Clarke’s jaw tightened as she processed Kira’s words. “You’re telling me that you’re at war with these people, but you still believe in their prophecy?”

Kira nodded, her composure unwavering. “The prophecy doesn’t belong to the Disciples,” she said. “It’s a truth that predates them, tied to the anomaly itself. We’ve seen things—patterns, phenomena—things that defy explanation. And all of it points to you.”

Clarke exchanged a tense glance with Bellamy, her mind racing. Every part of her wanted to reject Kira’s words, to deny any connection to this so-called prophecy. But the weight of the situation—the guards, the advanced tech, the cryptic messages from the helmet—made it impossible to ignore.

Kira observed Clarke’s reaction carefully, the faintest flicker of curiosity crossing her composed features. “You’re beginning to understand, aren’t you?” she said, her voice calm but pointed. “The people of Nakara are descendants of the Eligius III mission.”

Clarke’s heart skipped a beat at the mention of Eligius III. Her mind immediately raced back to everything she knew about the Eligius missions—the mining operations, the cryosleep experiments, the search for habitable planets. “Eligius III…” Clarke muttered, almost to herself. “They dropped off multiple groups to colonize other planets.”

Kira nodded, confirming her thoughts. “Correct. Your Sanctum was one of their chosen locations—an ideal planet to recreate Earth’s conditions. But Nakara…” She gestured toward the window, the icy expanse stretching endlessly beyond. “Nakara was different.”

Bellamy’s brow furrowed as he glanced between Kira and Clarke. “Different how?” he asked. “This place doesn’t exactly scream ‘livable.’”

Kira smiled faintly, the corners of her lips curling in an almost knowing way. “I can see why you’d think that,” she said. “But Nakara’s surface hides its true nature. Beneath this frozen wasteland lies a network of geothermal energy that sustains life. It’s a fragile balance, but it works. Over centuries, our people adapted, using the technology the Eligius mission left behind to not only survive but thrive.”

Kira paced slowly in front of the large windows, her hands clasped behind her back as she spoke, her voice calm but edged with bitterness. “It wasn’t easy at first,” she admitted, her gaze flickering briefly toward Clarke and Bellamy. “The first generations of Eligius III survivors faced brutal conditions—cold, starvation, and the challenges of adapting to a planet so different from Earth. But then, we found something that changed everything.”

Clarke and Bellamy watched her closely, their unease growing with each word.

“In a cave deep beneath the surface,” Kira continued, “we discovered an anomaly stone. At first, we had no idea what it was—just a strange, glowing object covered in symbols we couldn’t read. But as we studied it, we began to realize it wasn’t just some artifact. It was a gateway.”

“To the anomaly,” Clarke said quietly, her mind racing.

Kira nodded. “Exactly. The stone connects Nakara to a network of planets—worlds linked by the anomaly. It became the foundation of our survival and our greatest mystery. We’ve been researching it for generations, trying to unlock its secrets. But the more we learned, the more we realized we weren’t alone.”

Bellamy’s jaw tightened. “The Disciples.”

Kira’s expression darkened, her tone hardening. “They came to Nakara decades ago, claiming they were the chosen saviors of humanity. At first, they tried to recruit us, spouting their doctrine about the Last War and their so-called path to transcendence. But when we refused to join them, they turned violent.”

Clarke exchanged a glance with Bellamy, her stomach sinking. “What did they do?” she asked.

Kira’s eyes flashed with anger, her composure slipping just slightly. “They began raiding our settlements,” she said, her voice filled with quiet fury. “They took our people—men, women, children—and used them as test subjects for their experiments. They believe the anomaly holds the key to their prophecy, and they’re willing to sacrifice anyone to unlock its power.”

Bellamy clenched his fists, his anger simmering just beneath the surface. “And you’ve been fighting them ever since.”

Kira nodded grimly. “For years. We’ve built defenses, fortified our settlements, and studied the anomaly stone to better understand their movements. But their technology is more advanced, and their numbers are greater. Every time we think we have the upper hand, they find a way to strike back.”

Clarke took a step forward, her voice sharp. “So what does this have to do with us? Why are we here?”

Kira turned to face her fully, her gaze piercing. “Because the Disciples believe you, Clarke, are the key to fulfilling their prophecy. And Bellamy is the guide who will lead you there. They’ve been searching for you for years, though they didn’t know it until now. When your friend used the disciple suit, it triggered a signal—a beacon. And now that you’re here, the Disciples won’t stop until they have you.”

Clarke’s stomach twisted, the weight of Kira’s words settling over her like a crushing force. She glanced at Bellamy, whose expression was a mix of anger and determination.

“So what do you want from us?” Clarke demanded. “You said you don’t follow their doctrine, so why keep us here?”

Kira’s expression softened slightly, though her tone remained firm. “We need your help,” she said simply. “If you truly are the key and the guide, then you may hold the answers we’ve been searching for. Together, we can end this war—and stop the Disciples from using the anomaly to destroy everything we’ve fought to protect.”

Clarke and Bellamy exchanged a tense glance, the enormity of the situation pressing down on them. They hadn’t asked for this war, this prophecy, or this role—but it seemed they had no choice but to face it head-on.

Clarke took a deep breath, steadying herself as she processed everything Kira had told them. Her mind raced with possibilities, but one thing was clear—they needed to get back to their friends and figure out their next move. She turned to Kira, her voice calm but firm.

“Fine,” Clarke said. “If we’re going to help stop the Disciples, then we need a plan. But first, we need to see our friends. I’m not doing anything until I know they’re okay.”

Kira raised an eyebrow, her expression unreadable for a moment. Then, with a faint nod, she relented. “Very well,” she said. “I can arrange that. But understand this—if you want to stand a chance against the Disciples, you’ll need training. Their soldiers are highly skilled, their tactics ruthless. If you’re going to survive, you need to be prepared.”

Bellamy stepped forward, his gaze unwavering. “We’ve survived wars before,” he said. “We’ll survive this one too. But Clarke’s right—our friends come first.”

Kira gave a small, almost imperceptible smile. “Good,” she said. “Follow me.”

She turned sharply, leading them out of the sleek office and into the corridor. The guards fell into formation behind them, their presence a constant reminder of the precarious situation they were in. Clarke and Bellamy exchanged a glance as they walked, a silent understanding passing between them. They were in this together.

As they moved through the facility, Clarke took in the surroundings. The design was similar to the office—black walls with glowing blue accents, giving the space a cold, futuristic feel. Windows occasionally revealed glimpses of the icy planet outside, its jagged terrain both beautiful and foreboding.

Finally, Kira stopped in front of a reinforced metal door. She pressed her hand to a panel on the wall, and the door slid open with a low hiss. Inside was a large room with several cells, each one similar to the one Clarke and Bellamy had woken up in.

Clarke’s heart leapt as she saw familiar faces through the glass doors of the cells. Raven was sitting on the edge of her cot, her arm bandaged but her expression defiant. Octavia stood near the window of her cell, pacing like a caged animal. Gabriel, Miller, Hope, and Jackson were also there, their relief evident as they spotted Clarke and Bellamy entering the room.

“Clarke! Bellamy!” Raven called out, standing as close to the glass as she could. “You’re okay.”

Clarke pressed her hands against the glass of Raven’s cell door, her voice soft but steady. “We’re okay,” she said. “And we’re going to get all of you out of here.”

Bellamy glanced at Kira, his tone sharp. “Let them out. Now.”

Kira met his gaze, her expression calm. “They will be released shortly,” she said. “But understand—if you’re going to stand against the Disciples, you’ll need more than bravery. You’ll need to work together, train together, and trust the process.”

Clarke turned to face her, her voice laced with determination. “Just get them out,” she said. “We’ll do what needs to be done. But first, we need to be a team again.”

Kira regarded her for a long moment, then nodded. “Very well,” she said. “Reunite with your friends. But remember—this is only the beginning.”

As the cell doors slid open one by one, Clarke felt a wave of relief wash over her. She embraced Raven first, then Octavia and the others, the group coming together as a united front. Whatever lay ahead, they would face it together.

–

After being reunited and given time to settle, the group was led to a cafeteria deep within the facility. The space was large and bustling with activity, filled with people dressed in similar attire to what Clarke and her group had been given—sleek, practical black clothing that seemed brand new. Clarke wore a black zip-up jacket over a fitted top, black leggings, and sturdy combat boots. 

As they sat at a table near the edge of the room, Clarke glanced around, studying the people. They all seemed focused, moving with purpose. Some were eating, others were in quiet discussion, and a few were standing by holographic like displays on the far wall. It was clear this wasn’t just a cafeteria—it was a hub of activity for Nakara’s people.

Clarke turned her attention back to her group, her concern immediately landing on Raven. She sat across the table, her arm still bandaged and resting on the table.

“How’s your arm?” Clarke asked softly, her voice filled with genuine worry.

Raven shrugged, wincing slightly at the movement. “It’s fine,” she said, her tone light but a little strained. “Hurts like hell, but but they did a good job patching me up. 

Raven leaned forward slightly, lowering her voice. “Clarke, what’s the deal with these people? Kira keeps throwing around words like ‘prophecy’ and ‘last war.’ What’s actually going on?”

Clarke exchanged a glance with Bellamy, who was sitting beside her, his expression just as serious. She sighed, leaning closer to the group. “They think the anomaly and the planets it connects to are part of some greater plan,” she said quietly. “They’ve been at war with the Disciples for years. And somehow… they think Bellamy and I are part of it.”

Octavia frowned, her arms crossed as she leaned back in her chair. “What does that even mean?” she asked. “Part of it how?”

“They think Clarke’s the ‘key,’” Bellamy said, his tone edged with frustration. “And I’m supposed to be the ‘guide.’ It’s all tied to the anomaly, the stone, and whatever prophecy they’re talking about.”

Raven’s brow furrowed as she processed the information. “So, what? They want to use you to win their war?”

Clarke nodded grimly. “Pretty much. And from what Kira said, the Disciples want the same thing.”

As the group sat around the table, tension lingered in the air. Miller shook his head, his arms crossed tightly against his chest. “This is insane,” he muttered, his voice filled with disbelief. “A war with some zealot army, prophecies, anomaly stones—this is way beyond anything we’ve ever dealt with.”

Clarke sighed, leaning forward slightly, her voice calm but resolute. “It’s not just about the war,” she said. “This facility, these people—they’re descendants of Eligius III.”

Gabriel’s head snapped up at her words, his expression shifting to one of deep intrigue. “Eligius III?” he repeated, leaning closer. “You’re sure?”

Clarke nodded, glancing toward the bustling cafeteria. “Kira told us. Their ancestors were part of the Eligius III mission. They were dropped on Nakara generations ago.”

Gabriel’s brow furrowed, his mind clearly racing. “That would explain the technology,” he murmured. “The advanced systems, the anomaly research—they’ve had centuries to study and adapt.” He paused, looking at Clarke. “But why here? Out of all the planets the mission visited, why would they choose Nakara?”

Clarke gestured toward the window, where the icy, jagged terrain of the planet stretched endlessly beyond. “According to Kira, this planet is unique. There’s something about Nakara’s connection to the anomaly.”

Gabriel nodded slowly, his fascination evident. “The anomaly… it’s always been the key,” he said, almost to himself. “If this planet has a deeper connection to it, it would make sense why the Eligius team saw potential here. But still… Nakara isn’t exactly hospitable.”

“That’s putting it lightly,” Miller muttered, his tone sharp. “This place is a frozen hellscape.”

Bellamy, who had been listening quietly, finally spoke up. “Kira said they found an anomaly stone in a cave,” he said. “That’s when everything changed for them. They’ve been studying it ever since.”

Gabriel’s eyes lit up, his scientific curiosity taking over. “An anomaly stone here?” he said, his voice tinged with excitement. “That would explain why the Disciples are so focused on this planet. If the stone on Nakara holds unique properties, it could be the key to understanding how the anomaly works.”

Clarke sighed, her patience wearing thin. “Right now, I don’t care about the anomaly or its mysteries,” she said firmly. “What I care about is keeping our people safe and getting out of here alive.”

Miller nodded, his expression grim. “Yeah, well, it doesn’t sound like that’s an option,” he said. “Not with these people breathing down our necks and the Disciples hunting us.”

Octavia took a slow sip from her cup of water, her sharp eyes scanning the bustling cafeteria around them. She set the cup down on the table and leaned back slightly, her tone casual but laced with her usual bluntness.

“Well,” she said, her voice cutting through the tension, “it looks like we’re on the good side of this war—for now. Better that these people found us before the Disciples did.”

Clarke glanced at her, her brows furrowed. “That doesn’t make them our allies,” she said cautiously. “Just because they’re not the Disciples doesn’t mean we can trust them.”

Octavia shrugged, her expression neutral. “I’m not saying we should trust them,” she replied. “I’m just saying we’ve seen what the Disciples can do. If they’d gotten their hands on us first, this would’ve gone a whole lot worse.”

As the group fell into a brief silence, Gabriel leaned forward, his expression thoughtful but uneasy. “There’s one thing that’s been bothering me,” he said, his tone measured. “I don’t even know what the time dilation on this planet is like.”

Clarke’s stomach sank at his words, and she froze mid-thought. Her brow furrowed deeply as she stared at Gabriel. “Time dilation?” she asked, her voice tight.

Gabriel nodded, glancing around the table. “We’ve seen how the anomaly works,” he explained. “Time moves differently depending on where you are in its network. A day in one place could be years in another. If this planet is part of that same system, we might not know how long we’ve been here—or how much time has passed back in Sanctum.”

Clarke’s chest tightened, and her heart began to race. “Madi,” she whispered under her breath, her voice trembling slightly.

Octavia leaned forward, placing her hands firmly on the table, her voice cutting through the tension with sharp determination. “Alright,” she said, her tone firm. “Here’s what we do—we get the training they’re talking about, use it to learn as much as we can, and then we find that anomaly stone. Once we have what we need, we get the hell off this planet.”

Clarke looked up at Octavia, her brow furrowed. “And then what?” she asked. “We don’t even know how to control the anomaly, or where it might take us.”

Octavia shrugged, her sharp gaze flickering between the group. “We’ve figured things out before. We can do it again. Right now, Nakara isn’t safe—not with these people playing their ‘prophecy’ games and the Disciples hunting us. We can’t stay here.”

Gabriel nodded thoughtfully. “She’s right about one thing,” he said. “We need to get to that anomaly stone. If I can study it, I might be able to understand how to navigate the anomaly. It could be our way out—and possibly a way to get back to Sanctum.”

Bellamy crossed his arms, his expression tense but resolute. “If we’re going to make a move, we need to do it smart. Kira and her people aren’t going to just let us waltz out of here and use the stone.”

Octavia smirked faintly. “Which is why we play along,” she said. “We let them think we’re on their side. We get the training, learn everything we can, and bide our time. When the moment’s right, we make our move.”

Raven, still cradling her injured arm, let out a dry chuckle. “So, basically, infiltrate their little operation, grab the shiny rock, and hope for the best?”

“Pretty much,” Octavia replied, a glimmer of confidence in her tone. “It’s not like we haven’t done worse.”

The group exchanged tense glances, the weight of their decision settling over them. They were outnumbered, outgunned, and in a place they barely understood—but they had faced impossible odds before. With a clear goal and their resolve united, they would find a way to survive—and escape.

–

Clarke was escorted back to her temporary quarters by one of the guards, their glowing visor reflecting faintly against the sleek metal walls of the facility. The walk was silent, except for the soft hum of the compound and the quiet hum of her thoughts. Her quarters were in a section of the facility that seemed isolated, the corridors dimly lit with the same glowing blue accents that lined most of the compound.

When the guard stopped in front of a door, they pressed a panel, and the door slid open with a quiet hiss. Clarke stepped inside cautiously, her eyes scanning the room.

The living area was stark and minimalistic, the walls made of the same dark metal as the rest of the facility, with faint blue accent lights casting an otherworldly glow. A bed  was pressed against one wall, its bedding plain but neat. Across from it was a small desk with a chair, a built-in screen mounted on the wall above it, displaying a rotating map of Nakara’s terrain. A window took up most of the far wall, but instead of a view of the icy planet outside, it overlooked the inside of the compound—a sprawling maze of corridors, labs, and other quarters like her own.

Clarke stepped toward the window, her arms crossed as she gazed out at the activity below. People in sleek uniforms moved with purpose, and guards patrolled in pairs, their black combat suits blending seamlessly into the shadows. The facility buzzed with efficiency, but it only made Clarke feel more trapped.

She sighed, running a hand through her hair. The room was cold, both physically and emotionally, and it felt more like a holding cell than a place to rest. She sat on the edge of the cot, her thoughts racing.

Her mind kept drifting back to Madi, the weight of her absence settling heavily on her chest. How much time had passed? Were Sanctum and Madi still safe? She pressed her fingers to her temples, willing herself to focus. They had a plan now, a way forward—but the unknowns were suffocating.

 Clarke lay on the stiff cot, her arms folded across her chest as she stared up at the dark, metal ceiling. The faint blue glow of the accent lights gave the room an eerie stillness, and her mind refused to quiet. Thoughts of Madi, Sanctum, and the looming threat of the Disciples churned relentlessly. She exhaled heavily, pressing her palms to her eyes, trying to shut it all out.

Then, the soft hiss of the sliding door broke the silence. Clarke sat up abruptly, her heart skipping a beat. Her first instinct was to reach for a weapon, but then she saw him.

Bellamy stepped into the room, his expression a mixture of concern and hesitation. He glanced around briefly before his eyes landed on her. He was still dressed in the black Henley and pants he had worn before , his dark curls slightly disheveled.

“You okay?” he asked softly, stepping further inside and letting the door slide shut behind him.

Clarke let out a small, tired laugh, running a hand through her hair. “That’s a loaded question,” she replied, her voice dry. “But no, not really.”

Bellamy gave her a faint smile, the corner of his lips tugging up. “Figured as much,” he said, pulling the chair from the small desk and turning it around to sit on it backward. He rested his arms on the chair’s back, his gaze steady on her. “Couldn’t sleep either.”

Clarke leaned back against the cold wall, crossing her arms. “It’s hard to relax when you’re constantly being told you’re part of some ‘prophecy,’” she said bitterly. “And on top of that, I can’t stop thinking about Madi. What if Gabriel’s right about the time dilation? What if—” Her voice cracked, and she stopped, shaking her head.

“Clarke,” Bellamy said gently, his tone soft but firm. “We’ll get back to her. We always find a way.”

Clarke met his eyes, her own filled with worry. “What if it’s too late by the time we do? What if she—” She stopped herself again, her hands gripping the edge of the cot. “I can’t lose her, Bellamy.”

Bellamy stood up from the chair, walking over to sit beside her on the bed. He didn’t say anything at first, just leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, letting the silence settle between them for a moment.

“You’re not going to lose her,” he said finally, his voice steady. “You’ve done everything to protect her, Clarke. You always do. And whatever it takes, we’ll get back to her. Together.”

Clarke looked at him, her chest tightening at the certainty in his voice. She nodded slowly, a faint glimmer of gratitude breaking through her worry. “Thanks,” she said softly.

As Bellamy reached the door, Clarke’s voice stopped him. “Bellamy,” she said softly, almost hesitantly. He turned back, his hand hovering near the panel to open the door. Her eyes met his, glimmering with vulnerability.

“Can you stay?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Bellamy’s expression softened, and he nodded without hesitation. He stepped back into the room, crossing the small space to her bed. Without a word, he slid in behind her, the cot barely big enough for the both of them. As Clarke shifted slightly to make room, he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. His warmth was grounding, his presence steady.

Clarke’s breath hitched, and her eyes filled with tears as she lay there, Bellamy’s hold offering a comfort she hadn’t realized she desperately needed. She closed her eyes, her voice trembling as she whispered, “I’m so tired of fighting.”

Bellamy rested his chin gently on the top of her head, his voice low and soothing. “I know,” he murmured. “I know you are.”

Her tears spilled silently, her chest rising and falling with quiet sobs. “It feels like it never ends,” she admitted, her voice breaking. “Every time I think we’ve found peace, something else tears it all apart.”

Bellamy tightened his arms around her slightly, his voice filled with quiet determination. “It’s not fair,” he said softly. “You’ve done so much for everyone—for all of us. And I wish I could take some of that weight off your shoulders. But Clarke…”

Clarke let his words wash over her, her tears slowing as she breathed in his steady presence. For the first time in what felt like forever, she allowed herself to let go—if only for a moment. She nodded against him, her voice small but resolute. “Thank you,” she whispered.

They lay there in silence for a while, the hum of the compound and the faint glow of the room surrounding them. Clarke’s breathing began to even out, her body relaxing into Bellamy’s embrace. And though the battles ahead were still uncertain, in that moment, she felt a flicker of something she hadn’t felt in a long time: safety.

Chapter Text

The days on Nakara blurred together, the thin atmosphere making it difficult to distinguish between day and night. The perpetual twilight cast an eerie glow across the facility, and the cold seeped into everything, even inside the advanced compound. Clarke, Bellamy, and the others had been given temporary quarters and clothing suited to the facility’s minimalist design—sleek and practical.

One morning, Clarke found herself in a large training room. The floor was covered with padded black mats, and glowing blue strips lined the walls. She wore a fitted white zip-up jacket and matching leggings, her feet bare as she stood on the cool surface of the mat. The air felt crisp, and there was an almost clinical sterility to the space.

The group had been told they’d start training for combat and tactics, and while Clarke had been through her share of fights, there was always more to learn. She adjusted the hem of her jacket, taking a deep breath as she glanced around the room. Bellamy, Octavia, Raven, and the others stood nearby, similarly dressed, their expressions ranging from focused to skeptical.

The door to the training room slid open with a quiet hiss, and a tall man walked in. He was muscular but lean, with a sharp, no-nonsense demeanor. His dark hair was buzzed short, and his sharp features made him look like someone who had seen his fair share of battle. He wore black pants and a long-sleeved fitted shirt, and his intense eyes scanned the group with an almost predatory precision.

“Good morning,” the man said, his voice deep and commanding. He stopped in the center of the room, his arms crossed as he addressed them. “I’m Jalen, your trainer. My job is to teach you how to survive—whether you like it or not.”

Hope raised an eyebrow, exchanging a quick glance with Octavia. “We’ve survived plenty,” she said, her voice steady. “I’m not sure what else you think we need to learn.”

Jalen’s sharp eyes locked onto hers, and he smirked faintly. “Is that so?” he said. “Then you’ll be my first demonstration.”

Hope tensed slightly, her jaw tightening. She wasn’t one to back down, and Jalen’s tone made it clear he was testing her. She stepped forward onto the mat, standing tall despite the nervous flutter in her chest. “Fine,” she said. “Show me what you’ve got.”

Jalen motioned for her to approach, his movements fluid and controlled. “The first rule of survival,” he said, his tone almost mocking, “is to never underestimate your opponent.”

Hope didn’t hesitate as she took a fighting stance, her eyes narrowing. “I don’t underestimate anyone,” she replied.

“Good,” Jalen said, his smirk widening. “Let’s see if you can prove it.”

Jalen smirked faintly, crossing his arms as he circled her. “Attack me.”

Hope didn’t hesitate. She lunged forward, aiming a punch at Jalen’s side. But he moved with startling speed and precision, sidestepping her attack effortlessly. Before she could react, he grabbed her wrist, shifted his weight, and flipped her over onto her back in one smooth motion. The impact of her body hitting the mat echoed through the room.

Hope let out a small grunt of surprise and frustration, quickly trying to recover, but Jalen held her wrist pinned for a moment before stepping back. “Not bad,” he said, standing tall as he addressed the group. “But not good enough.”

He motioned toward Hope, who was already pushing herself back to her feet. “She’s got speed, no doubt,” Jalen said, his tone instructive. “But she’s too focused on attacking. No strategy, no observation. If you go in blind, you’re giving your opponent the advantage.”

Hope’s cheeks flushed slightly, but she met Jalen’s gaze with a determined glare. “So what should I have done?” she asked, her voice sharp.

Jalen nodded, seemingly pleased with her willingness to learn. “Watch first,” he said, his tone softening slightly. “Study your opponent. Look for their weaknesses before you strike. If you’re too eager to attack, you leave yourself open—like you just did.”

He turned back to the group, gesturing for them to pay attention. “This applies to all of you,” he said. “Bravery is important, but it’s not enough. If you want to survive—if you want to win—you need to be smart. Use your head as much as your fists.”

Clarke exchanged a glance with Bellamy, her arms crossed as she took in Jalen’s words. Despite his rough demeanor, there was truth in what he said. Hope, still catching her breath, gave a small nod, her determination unwavering.

“Alright,” Hope said, stepping back into the group. “Next time, I’ll take you down.”

Jalen smirked, his sharp eyes gleaming with amusement. “I’ll hold you to that,” he said, before turning back to Clarke and Bellamy. “Now, who’s next?”

Jalen’s sharp eyes scanned the group before landing on Raven. He pointed directly at her, his voice cutting through the room with authority. “You. Your turn.”

Raven immediately shook her head, her arms crossing defensively. “No,” she said firmly. “I can’t do that. Not with my leg.”

Jalen’s gaze dropped briefly to her brace, and for a moment, he seemed to consider her words. But then his expression hardened, and he stepped toward her. “I noticed your brace the second you walked in,” he said, his tone calm but challenging. “And I’m not asking you to do what they did.”

Raven’s jaw tightened, her pride and frustration warring within her. “I know my limits,” she said, her voice edged with defiance. “This is one of them.”

Jalen smirked faintly, his hands clasped behind his back as he addressed her and the group. “Limits are real,” he acknowledged. “But they don’t define you. You’ve got a sharp mind—that’s obvious. Use it.”

Raven raised an eyebrow, skeptical. “And how exactly am I supposed to do that here?” she asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

Jalen motioned toward her brace. “Your leg might slow you down, but it doesn’t stop you from observing, calculating, and adapting,” he said. “Fighting isn’t just about strength or speed. It’s about strategy. And from what I’ve seen, you’re the kind of person who thinks three steps ahead.”

Raven blinked, momentarily caught off guard by his words.

“Come here,” Jalen said, gesturing for her to step onto the mat. “I’ll show you.”

Raven hesitated, glancing at Clarke and Bellamy, who both gave her encouraging nods. With a sigh, she stepped forward, her movements deliberate as she positioned herself on the mat.

Jalen crouched slightly, motioning for her to face him. “You don’t need to move fast to disable your opponent,” he explained. “You need precision. If someone comes at you, where do you aim?”

Raven frowned, thinking for a moment. “The knees? Or the arms?”

Jalen nodded approvingly. “Good. But more specifically, aim for joints, pressure points. If they grab you, use their strength against them. Like this.”

In one swift motion, Jalen demonstrated a technique, grabbing her wrist lightly and guiding her to twist his arm into a vulnerable position. “See? You don’t have to overpower them—just outthink them.”

Raven tested the move slowly, a small spark of confidence lighting in her eyes. “Alright,” she said, her voice softer but more determined. “I think I can work with that.”

Jalen smirked, stepping back. “Good,” he said. “Remember, everyone has weaknesses. Even you. But what matters is how you adapt. You fight smart, and you fight to win.”

Raven returned to the group, her confidence a little steadier. Clarke gave her a small, encouraging smile, and Bellamy clapped her lightly on the shoulder. Raven didn’t say anything, but there was a faint smirk on her face as she muttered, “Guess I’m not sitting out after all.”

–

Days turned into a blur as Clarke and the group adapted to the routines of life on Nakara. The training sessions were grueling but effective, teaching them not only combat skills but the discipline and strategies required to survive in the harsh conditions of the planet. They learned the protocols and responsibilities of the guards, gaining insight into the structure of Nakara’s society. Though tensions remained high, they had no choice but to play along—for now.

One evening, Clarke sat in the cafeteria, absentmindedly stirring her soup with her spoon. The faint hum of the compound filled the background, and the sterile blue glow of the lights reflected off the metal surfaces. The room was filled with people, but Clarke felt isolated, her thoughts drifting to Madi and Sanctum.

Raven slid into the seat beside her, placing her tray down with a soft thud. “You look like you’re about to fall into that bowl,” Raven remarked, smirking slightly.

Clarke let out a small laugh, shaking her head. “Just thinking,” she said, glancing at Raven. “What else is new?”

Raven picked up a piece of bread from her tray and took a bite before leaning closer. “Well, while you were overthinking everything, I did some digging,” she said casually, her tone hinting at excitement.

Clarke straightened slightly, her curiosity piqued. “What kind of digging?”

Raven lowered her voice, glancing around briefly to ensure no one was listening. “About Nakara,” she said. “And the Disciples.”

Bellamy, sitting across from them, leaned forward, catching the tail end of Raven’s words. “What did you find out?” he asked, his tone sharp with interest.

Raven grinned faintly, clearly proud of herself. “So, apparently, Nakara wasn’t just some random stop for the Eligius III mission,” she began. “They knew about the anomaly stone before they got here. It’s why they chose this planet—because of its connection to the anomaly network.”

Clarke frowned, her spoon pausing mid-air. “So Eligius knew about the anomaly stones before they even left Earth?” she asked, her voice laced with disbelief.

Raven nodded. “Looks like it. From what I’ve pieced together, they had some sort of data—something they discovered before the apocalypse on Earth. NASA did some research finding an anomaly stone on this planet, not too long after they found another one on earth as an ancient artifact. well, clearly, things didn’t go as planned.”

Bellamy’s brow furrowed. “And the Disciples? What’s their connection to all of this?”

Raven sighed, leaning back in her chair. “The Disciples are… complicated,” she said. “They’re not descendants of Eligius III—they came later. Apparently, they’re from a planet called Bardo, and they’ve been using the anomaly network for generations. But their whole deal is centered around this ‘Last War’ prophecy.”

Clarke rolled her eyes, her frustration evident. “We’ve heard about their prophecy. But what does it actually mean? What are they fighting for?”

Raven shrugged. “That’s the thing—I don’t think even they know. It’s all tied to the anomaly stones, and they believe controlling the network will give them the power to transcend humanity or something.”

Bellamy shook his head, his frustration mirroring Clarke’s. “So, basically, we’re caught in the middle of some cosmic power struggle.”

“Pretty much,” Raven said, taking another bite of bread. “But there’s more. I heard whispers about something called the ‘Bridge.’ Apparently, it’s a way to use the stones to travel anywhere in the network. Instantaneous travel, no time dilation.”

Clarke’s eyes widened, her mind racing. “If we could figure out how to use the Bridge—”

“We could get back to Sanctum,” Bellamy finished, his voice steady.

Raven nodded. “Exactly. But here’s the catch: the Bridge only works if you have the right access. And guess who holds all the keys?”

“The Disciples,” Clarke said bitterly.

“Bingo,” Raven said. “So, if we want to get out of here, we’re going to need to either outsmart them—or take their tech.”

Gabriel leaned forward at the table, his brow furrowed deeply as he processed everything Raven had just revealed. “An anomaly stone on Earth?” he repeated, disbelief evident in his voice. “I’ve studied everything I could about the anomaly stones, but I didn’t even know one existed there.”

Raven nodded, her expression serious. “Yeah, it surprised me too,” she admitted. “But apparently, it wasn’t found until a couple of years after Eligius III left Earth. According to what I’ve pieced together, they found the anomaly stone in 2030.”

Clarke’s brow furrowed. “That’s decades before the first apocalypse,” she said, her voice tinged with confusion. “What were they even looking for?”

Raven glanced around the table before answering. “From what I’ve gathered, NASA was running missions to search for habitable planets. They were mapping potential colonization sites, but during one of their scans, they found something on this planet—Nakara. The anomaly stone.”

Bellamy frowned, his arms crossing over his chest. “Wait a second,” he said. “So, they found the stone on Nakara first? Before they even knew about the ones on Earth?”

“Exactly,” Raven said, her tone sharp with confirmation. “It wasn’t until they started comparing their data from Nakara to Earth that they realized there was another stone—hidden right under their noses.”

Gabriel’s expression turned contemplative, his scientific curiosity sparking. “That would explain why Eligius prioritized planets connected to the anomaly network,” he said thoughtfully. “If they knew the stones were part of something bigger, it would make sense to center their colonization efforts around them.”

Clarke’s mind raced as she tried to piece it all together. “So NASA found the stone here in 2030,” she said slowly, “and Eligius must have used that data when they launched their missions.”

Raven nodded. “Exactly. But there’s one more thing,” she said, lowering her voice. “The anomaly stone on Earth? It wasn’t functional.”

Bellamy raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“It was dormant,” Raven explained. “The one on Nakara was already active, connected to the network. But the one on Earth didn’t activate until much later. No one knows why—or how.”

Gabriel leaned back, his expression troubled. “If the stone on Earth was dormant,” he said, “then something—or someone—must have triggered it. But why? And why now?”

Raven leaned back in her chair, her expression thoughtful but slightly uneasy as she continued explaining the history she had uncovered. “Before the first apocalypse,” she said, “no one on Earth really understood what the anomaly stone was. They just thought it was some ancient artifact—something interesting but not all that important.”

Clarke furrowed her brow, trying to wrap her head around the implications. “So NASA finds one on Nakara, realizes it’s connected to the one on Earth, but they never figure out what it all means?”

Raven nodded. “Exactly. From what I’ve pieced together, they knew the stones were connected somehow, but they didn’t have the tech or the knowledge to figure it out. The most they got was a hunch—some kind of cosmic artifact tied to the fabric of space and time. But they didn’t have enough time to dig deeper before, well… apocalypse one.”

Clarke frowned, the pieces clicking together in her mind. “So, we’re talking about tech—or something—so advanced that people on Earth couldn’t even understand it,” she said. “And it just… sat in a museum?”

Raven nodded, her expression grim. “It was in some private collection for years before that. But here’s the kicker: before NASA connected the dots, the stone was bought by some billionaire survivalist.” She paused, her tone sharp. “Bill Cadogan. Paid six million dollars for it.”

Miller, who had been quiet up until now, suddenly straightened in his seat, his eyes narrowing. “Wait,” he said, his voice cutting through the room. “Did you just say Cadogan? As in the guy who made the Second Dawn bunker?”

Raven glanced at him and nodded, her expression serious. “Yeah, same guy,” she confirmed. “Apparently, he bought the anomaly stone from a museum for six million dollars before the apocalypse.”

Miller leaned back, his arms crossed tightly. “That guy was a total nutcase,” he said. “He built a cult, sold people on the idea of surviving the end of the world, and then locked himself away in that bunker while everyone else burned.”

Bellamy raised an eyebrow. “And now we find out he had one of these stones?” he said, his voice laced with skepticism. “That can’t be a coincidence.”

Raven nodded. “That tracks,” she said. “From what I’ve read, Cadogan wasn’t just a survivalist—he was a visionary, or at least he thought he was. He believed the end of the world was just the beginning of humanity’s evolution.”

Octavia leaned against the table, her expression dark and contemplative as she pieced things together aloud. “That’s why they want you and Bellamy,” she said, her voice steady but laced with frustration. “Somehow, everything you two did on Earth—it’s all connected. And now, it’s tied to Sanctum because of Cadogan’s teachings and history.”

Clarke’s brow furrowed deeply, her hands clenched into fists on the table. “That doesn’t make any sense,” she said. “How could anything we did on Earth—how could our decisions—be connected to a man who died over a hundred years ago?”

Octavia glanced at Raven and Gabriel before answering, her tone sharp. “It’s not about what you did directly,” she said. “It’s about what Cadogan believed. His obsession, with creating a ‘perfect’ human race—it lines up with everything the Disciples are fighting for.”

Bellamy crossed his arms, his jaw tightening. “So what? They think we’re part of some prophecy because of Cadogan’s ancient beliefs?”

Octavia nodded, her eyes narrowing. “Yeah, but it’s more than that. The Disciples have been tracking everything since before Sanctum even existed. They’ve got the anomaly network, they’ve got their tech—and somehow, they connected the dots between Earth, Sanctum, and you two.”

Gabriel tapped the table thoughtfully, his scientific mind racing. “It’s possible the anomaly itself has been tracking events,” he said. “If Cadogan’s people were studying the stones, they might have left behind data—something that recorded the movements of humanity, especially key moments tied to survival and leadership.”

Clarke’s stomach twisted as she considered the implications. “You think the anomaly recorded us? Everything we’ve done? Why?”

Gabriel looked at her, his expression serious. “Because if Cadogan believed humanity needed to be ‘saved,’ then the anomaly could be a way to identify those capable of leading that salvation.”

Raven shook her head, leaning back in her chair. “So, let me get this straight,” she said. “The Disciples think Clarke is the ‘key’ because of all the choices she’s made—shutting down Mount Weather, fighting ALIE, saving Sanctum—and Bellamy is the ‘guide’ because he’s been with her every step of the way?”

Octavia nodded again, her arms crossed. “It’s not just what you’ve done, Clarke,” she said, her voice softer now. “It’s who you are. Everything you’ve survived, everything you’ve fought for—that’s why they think you’re the answer to their so-called ‘last war.’”

Clarke’s eyes burned with frustration and disbelief. “I didn’t ask for this,” she said, her voice shaking slightly. “I just wanted to keep my people safe.”

Bellamy placed a reassuring hand on her arm, his voice steady. “None of us asked for this,” he said. “But if they think we’re important, then we have leverage. We can use that to protect Sanctum and everyone we care about.”

Octavia smirked faintly. “Let’s just hope their faith in this prophecy doesn’t get us all killed first,” she said.

The group exchanged tense glances, the weight of the situation pressing down on them. Cadogan’s teachings, the anomaly, and their own actions had all become tangled in a web that stretched across time and space. And now, they were at the center of it all.

–

Kira led the group down a wide, dimly lit hallway lined with sleek black walls and glowing blue accents. She moved with a practiced confidence, her voice calm and steady as she began to explain the inner workings of the Nakara facility.

“This planet wasn’t kind to the Eligius III crew when they first arrived,” Kira began, glancing back at Clarke, Bellamy, and the others. “The environment was harsh, and they didn’t have the resources they needed to thrive. They almost didn’t survive those first few years. But they adapted. Over time, they turned what little they had into the foundation of what you see here today.”

As they rounded a corner, the hallway opened into a vast greenhouse. The space was filled with rows of plants growing under artificial lights, their vibrant green hues a stark contrast to the cold, metallic surroundings. The air was warmer here, with a faint, earthy smell that reminded Clarke of Sanctum.

“This is how we produce most of our food,” Kira explained, gesturing to the rows of crops. “The greenhouse was one of the first major projects completed by the Eligius settlers. They used a combination of hydroponics and advanced genetic engineering to grow crops that could withstand Nakara’s conditions.”

Gabriel’s eyes lit up with fascination as he stepped closer to inspect the plants. “Incredible,” he muttered. “You’ve managed to create a sustainable food source on a planet like this. That’s no small feat.”

Kira gave him a faint smile. “It wasn’t easy,” she said. “But necessity is the best motivator.”

They continued the tour, moving into another section of the facility. Kira led them into a water purification room, where sleek machinery hummed quietly. Pipes and tanks filled the space, and the air was cold and sterile.

“This is where we process our water,” Kira said. “Nakara’s ice is one of its few natural resources. We melt it down, filter it, and distribute it throughout the facility. It’s a constant process, but it ensures we have clean water year-round.”

Raven ran her fingers along one of the pipes, her engineer’s mind already analyzing the system. “Efficient,” she said, nodding in approval. “I’m guessing you’ve got backup systems in case something fails?”

Kira nodded. “Of course. Redundancy is key when your survival depends on it.”

Next, Kira led them into a workshop-like area filled with equipment and tools. A group of workers was busy repairing a piece of machinery, their focus intense.

“This is our tech and maintenance hub,” Kira explained. “Everything here is repaired, repurposed, or rebuilt. Nothing goes to waste. The Eligius crew may have started with almost nothing, but they made sure to build a system that could sustain itself.”

Clarke looked around, impressed despite herself. “You’ve managed to create a self-sufficient society,” she said. “Even in these conditions.”

Kira’s expression turned serious. “We didn’t have a choice,” she said. “Nakara isn’t forgiving. Every mistake comes with a cost. That’s a lesson we learned early on.”

Kira led the group down a long corridor, her boots clicking softly against the sleek metal floor. The hallway was lined with glowing blue lights, and at the end, a massive window came into view. As they approached, the stark, icy expanse of Nakara revealed itself. The window overlooked a towering glacier, its jagged peaks stretching endlessly under the faint glow of the sun and the shimmering stars visible through the planet’s thin atmosphere. The sheer scale of it was breathtaking—and utterly unforgiving.

Kira stopped in front of the window, gesturing toward the frozen landscape. “Beautiful, isn’t it? But don’t let that fool you. It’s a death sentence if you’re not prepared.” she said, her voice steady but tinged with a seriousness that demanded attention. 

Clarke stood beside her, staring out at the glacier. The cold seemed to seep through the glass, chilling her even though she was inside. “You mean people can survive out there?” she asked, her tone skeptical.

Kira nodded. “Yes,” she said. “The atmosphere is thin, but there’s just enough oxygen to breathe without assistance. It’s not ideal, but it’s possible.”

Bellamy crossed his arms, his brow furrowed. “So why stay inside?” he asked. “If people can survive out there, why not expand beyond the facility?”

Kira turned to face him, her expression grim. “Because survival isn’t just about breathing,” she said. “Without the resources this facility provides, anyone out there would die within days. There’s no food, no shelter, and temperatures drop to deadly levels during the night cycle. Even during the day, the frostbite will set in faster than you can imagine. And good luck finding anything to eat out there—the land is barren, frozen solid.”

Raven, standing off to the side, let out a low whistle. “So, what you’re saying is… this place is the only thing keeping everyone alive.”

Kira nodded. “Exactly. The Eligius crew built this facility to be self-sustaining. Without it, Nakara isn’t habitable. This glacier you’re looking at? It’s one of our main water sources. We mine the ice, purify it, and use it to sustain life here. But it’s a delicate balance. One major disruption, and everything falls apart.”

Gabriel stepped closer to the window, his eyes scanning the icy expanse. “And the Disciples?” he asked. “How do they survive when they come here?”

Kira’s expression darkened. “They don’t stay long,” she said. “Their suits are designed to protect them from the elements, and they use the anomaly stone to come and go quickly. For them, Nakara is just another stop on their path through the network. But for us? This is home. And we’ll protect it.”

Clarke’s gaze remained fixed on the glacier, her mind racing. The facility was impressive—an engineering marvel—but it was also a prison. 

Raven leaned against the edge of the large window, staring out at the glacier before turning her gaze back to Kira. “If there’s a so-called network of planets,” she began, her tone sharp, “where’s the anomaly stone on this one?”

Kira crossed her arms, her expression hardening. “It’s deep in a cave system beneath the glacier,” she said. “NASA c discovered it while searching for habitable planets. But without the technology the Disciples use, it’s impossible to access. The stone is protected by an environmental barrier—extreme cold, unstable terrain.”

Octavia stepped forward, her arms crossed tightly as she studied Kira. “Is there an actual anomaly on this planet?” she asked, her voice skeptical but curious.

Kira nodded. “Yes,” she said simply. “The anomaly is active, but it’s unpredictable without the stone. It only leads to one planen. If you step through it without controlling the stone, you’re stuck there. No way back.”

The group exchanged uneasy glances, the implications sinking in.

“What happened to the people who went through it?” Clarke asked, her voice soft but steady.

Kira’s jaw tightened. “They were some of our best and bravest,” she said, her tone tinged with regret. “They thought they could find answers on the other side—or a way to bring the fight to the Disciples. But none of them ever returned.”

Raven leaned forward, her frustration evident as she locked eyes with Kira. “Why didn’t you just use the tech from the Disciples you’ve killed?” she asked sharply. “If their suits can navigate the anomaly and control the stones, why not reverse-engineer it?”

Kira’s expression darkened, and she let out a small sigh. “We tried,” she admitted, her voice laced with regret. “But the Disciples are smarter than that. Their technology has built-in trackers. The moment we activate any of their suits, they know exactly where we are. And trust me—they will come for anyone using it. They’ll kill to retrieve it.”

The room fell silent as Kira continued, her tone heavy with the burden of leadership. “Our planet isn’t protected enough to fend off a full-scale attack. We’re survivors, not warriors. If the Disciples send reinforcements here, we won’t stand a chance.”

Clarke furrowed her brow, her arms crossed tightly as she processed Kira’s words. “So you’re saying you’ve been holding back—letting the Disciples come and go, staying under their radar—just to keep your people safe?”

Kira nodded. “Exactly,” she said. “I can’t risk their lives for a gamble that might not even pay off. This facility is the only thing standing between us and extinction. I can’t jeopardize that.”

Octavia crossed her arms, her expression skeptical. “You’re not wrong about the risk,” she said. “But sitting back isn’t going to save you forever. The Disciples don’t seem like the kind of people who leave loose ends.”

Kira’s jaw tightened. “I know,” she said quietly. “But I’ve had to make hard choices. Eligius III was supposed to come back for us—to bring us home. But they never did. We waited for years, hoping they’d return. And when it became clear they wouldn’t, we had to make this place our home.”

Bellamy frowned, his voice tinged with disbelief. “So you’ve just been surviving? Holding on, hoping they won’t wipe you out?”

Kira’s gaze hardened. “Surviving isn’t just ‘holding on,’” she snapped. “It’s building, adapting, protecting the people who depend on you. My job is to make sure my people have a future, even if it’s on a frozen rock like Nakara. That’s more than a lot of us can say.”

Raven leaned back in her chair, a faint smirk tugging at her lips as her mind raced with possibilities. The tension in the room was palpable, but she couldn’t help the spark of excitement flickering inside her.

“Wait a second,” Raven said, breaking the heavy silence. Everyone turned to look at her as she tapped her fingers on the table thoughtfully. “The Disciples know I have the suit. They knew the moment I used it, right?”

Kira nodded slowly, her brow furrowing. “Yes,” she said cautiously. “And that’s exactly why it’s dangerous. If they know you’re using it, they’ll come for you.”

Raven shook her head, her smirk widening. “Not anymore,” she said confidently. “The game’s changed. The second they found out Clarke is the key and Bellamy is the source, that’s all they care about. Their priorities have shifted. They’re not worried about who has a suit—they’re worried about finding Clarke and Bellamy.”

Clarke frowned, leaning forward. “And how does that help us?” she asked, her voice cautious.

Raven’s eyes gleamed with determination. “Because it means they’re not focused on the suit anymore,” she said. “They don’t care if I’m using it to figure out their tech. They’re too busy hunting you two to worry about what I’m doing.”

Bellamy raised an eyebrow, his tone skeptical. “And you think you can reverse-engineer it without setting off any alarms?”

Raven shrugged, the smirk never leaving her face. “It’s not going to be easy,” she admitted. “But I’ve been tinkering with it since we got here. Their tech is advanced—way more advanced than anything we’ve ever seen—but it’s not impossible to crack. If I can figure out how their navigation systems work, I might be able to use the suit to map the anomaly stone.”

Kira crossed her arms and nodded at Raven, her sharp gaze carrying a glimmer of respect. “Alright,” she said, her tone decisive. “I’ll give you access to whatever tools you need. Our tech lab isn’t as advanced as the Disciples’, but we’ve salvaged a lot over the years. It should give you a good start.”

Raven smirked, the wheels in her mind already turning. “That’s all I need,” she said confidently. “I’ll make it work.”

Clarke turned to Raven, her blue eyes filled with a mix of determination and hope. “This is it,” she said quietly. “We’ll finally get off this planet, get to Bardo, save Diyoza, and—” She paused, her voice softening. “And we’ll go home.”

The group exchanged determined glances before following Kira out of the room. Clarke’s heart pounded as they walked through the sleek corridors, her mind already racing with the possibilities—and the risks—of what lay ahead.

For the first time in days, a glimmer of hope sparked within her. They had a plan, a purpose, and a path forward. Now, all they had to do was execute it—and survive whatever came next.

–

Clarke walked through the sleek corridors of the facility, the faint hum of machinery accompanying her every step. The air felt colder in this part of the compound, the blue accents along the walls casting an otherworldly glow. She pushed open the door to the lab, the hiss of it sliding open barely registering as she stepped inside.

Raven was hunched over a workbench, surrounded by an array of tools, wires, and components from the Disciple suit. Her injured arm was still in a sling, but that didn’t stop her from tinkering with the complex technology. Gabriel stood nearby, carefully examining a display screen, his brow furrowed in concentration.

“Hey,” Clarke said softly, stepping further into the room. “How’s it going?”

Raven looked up, her face smudged with grease and her expression a mix of determination and exhaustion. “Could be worse,” she said, leaning back from the workbench and flexing her fingers. “This tech is insane, Clarke. I’ve never seen anything like it. It’s like trying to decode an alien language.”

Gabriel glanced at Clarke and offered a faint smile. “She’s making progress, though,” he said. “The suit’s systems are… well, let’s just say they’re beyond anything even I’ve studied. But Raven’s figuring it out.”

Clarke nodded, crossing her arms as she approached the table. She glanced down at the suit’s helmet, its crystalline surface catching the light. “Do you think you’ll be able to reverse-engineer it?” she asked, her voice cautious but hopeful.

Raven sighed, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand. “It’s not just about reverse-engineering,” she said. “The Disciples built this thing with layers of encryption. Every time I think I’ve cracked one system, another one pops up. But… I’m getting there.”

Clarke nodded at Raven, her expression softening as she stepped back from the workbench. “I’ll be back later to check on you,” she said, her voice calm but steady. “Keep me updated.”

Clarke turned and left the lab, her thoughts shifting to Octavia and Hope. She knew Octavia had been spending time in the training room, honing her skills and working with Hope, who seemed determined to stay sharp.

As Clarke approached the training room, the faint sound of clashing practice weapons and shuffling footsteps reached her ears. She stepped through the door to see Octavia and Hope sparring on the padded mat. Octavia moved with precision and control, while Hope, younger and more impulsive, seemed to rely on sheer determination and speed. Despite their differences, it was clear they made a good team.

When Octavia noticed Clarke, she paused, holding up a hand to signal Hope to stop. Hope stepped back, wiping the sweat from her brow as she caught her breath. Octavia waved at Clarke, a faint smile on her lips. “Hey,” she said, walking over to meet her.

“Hey,” Clarke replied, glancing briefly at Hope before turning her full attention to Octavia. “Can we talk for a minute?”

Octavia nodded, setting her practice weapon aside and motioning for Hope to take a break. She followed Clarke to the corner of the room, her expression curious but guarded. “What’s up?” she asked.

Clarke hesitated for a moment, then spoke. “I just wanted to check in,” she said. “I know we’ve asked you this before, but… do you remember anything from your time in the anomaly? Or anything about Hope?”

Octavia’s expression darkened slightly, and she shook her head. “No,” she said quietly. “It’s all still a blank. I’ve tried to remember—tried everything—but it’s like there’s this wall in my mind that I can’t get past.”

Clarke frowned, her concern deepening. “And Hope? Does she trigger anything? Even just a feeling?”

Octavia glanced over at Hope, who was drinking water and adjusting her training gear. “I wish I could say yes,” she admitted. “But it’s like… I know her, and I care about her, but I don’t know why. It’s like the connection is there, but the memories aren’t.”

Clarke sighed, her shoulders slumping slightly. “I was hoping something might have changed,” she said softly. “With everything we’ve learned about the anomaly, I thought maybe…”

“I get it,” Octavia said, placing a hand on Clarke’s shoulder. “But I’ve got nothing. And honestly? It’s frustrating as hell.”

Clarke nodded, her expression softening. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I know it’s hard for you. For both of you.”

Octavia gave her a faint smile. “We’ll figure it out,” she said. “Whatever’s locked in my head, it has to come out eventually.” Clarke nodded again, her respect for Octavia’s resilience growing. “

She glanced back at Hope, who was waiting patiently. “I should get back to her. She’s determined to outfight me, and I can’t let that happen.”

Clarke chuckled softly. “Good luck,” she said. “I’ll see you later.”

As she left the training room, Clarke’s mind was heavy with unanswered questions. Clarke made her way through the corridors, her thoughts still lingering on Octavia’s inability to remember anything from the anomaly. She eventually stopped in front of Bellamy’s temporary quarters, hesitating for a moment before pressing the panel to open the door.

The door slid open with a soft hiss, revealing Bellamy lying on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. His black Henley was slightly rumpled, and his boots had been kicked off to the side. The room was dimly lit, the blue glow of the Nakara facility casting faint shadows across the walls.

“Hey,” Clarke said softly as she stepped inside, letting the door slide shut behind her.

Bellamy didn’t immediately look at her, his gaze fixed on the ceiling. “Hey,” he replied after a moment, his voice low and distant.

Clarke crossed the room and sat down on the edge of a small chair near his bed. “You okay?” she asked gently, though she could already tell the answer.

Bellamy finally turned his head to look at her, his dark eyes filled with a weariness that ran deeper than just physical exhaustion. “Just thinking,” he said. “Trying to figure out how we got here. How we keep ending up in these situations.”

Clarke leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “You mean life-or-death situations involving prophecy, wars, and impossible choices?” she asked with a faint smirk, trying to lighten the mood.

Bellamy let out a dry chuckle, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah, that,” he said. “It just… it never ends, does it?” Clarke nodded, understanding the weight he carried. “I know,” she said softly. “But we’ve made it this far, Bellamy. And we’ll get through this too.”

Bellamy pushed himself up onto his elbows, studying her face. “You really believe that?” he asked, his voice tinged with doubt.

Clarke met his gaze, her expression firm. “I have to,” she said simply. “For Madi. For everyone we left behind in Sanctum. They’re counting on us.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I just don’t know how much more we can take, Clarke,” he admitted. “It feels like we’re constantly being pushed to the edge.”

Clarke shifted from the chair to the edge of Bellamy’s bed, her movements slow and deliberate. She reached out, her fingers curling around his hand, holding it tightly. The contact felt grounding, and she could feel the tension in his muscles, the weight he carried in silence.

“Bellamy,” she said softly, her voice steady but filled with emotion. “We’re going to get through this. Together.”

He looked at her, his expression filled with doubt and weariness, but also with a glimmer of hope that only she seemed able to bring out in him. “Clarke…” he began, but his voice faltered, unsure of how to put his feelings into words.

Clarke squeezed his hand a little tighter, leaning in slightly. “You were there for me,” she said, her voice cracking just a little. “When I lost my mom, when I felt like everything was falling apart—you were there. You reminded me I wasn’t alone. And now, I’m here for you. No matter what happens.”

Bellamy’s jaw tightened, his lips pressing into a thin line as he fought to keep his emotions in check. “It just feels like too much sometimes,” he admitted after a long pause, his voice low and raw. “Carrying all of this. Watching the people we love get hurt over and over again. What if… what if we can’t fix this? What if it all falls apart?”

Clarke shifted closer, her eyes locking onto his. “It won’t,” she said firmly. “Because we won’t let it. You and me, Bellamy—we’ve survived everything the universe has thrown at us. We’ll survive this too.”

Bellamy’s brown eyes softened as they locked onto Clarke’s blue ones, a mixture of emotions flickering across his face—vulnerability, gratitude, and something deeper that neither of them dared to name. The silence between them was heavy, but not uncomfortable. It was filled with unspoken words, shared memories, and a connection that had always run beneath the surface.

Clarke’s gaze dropped to his lips for a fleeting moment, her heart pounding in her chest. She wanted to say something, anything, to break the silence, to acknowledge the weight of what they were both feeling—but the words caught in her throat. Instead, she let out a quiet sigh and made a decision without thinking too much about it.

She shifted, laying down beside him, her movements slow and deliberate. Resting her head on his chest, she positioned herself so she could hear the steady, comforting rhythm of his heartbeat. Her fingers brushed lightly against his arm before settling next to his. Bellamy hesitated only for a moment before wrapping his arms around her, pulling her closer.

The warmth of his embrace and the sound of his heartbeat grounded her in a way she hadn’t felt in a long time. Clarke closed her eyes, letting the weight of her worries ease, if only for a moment. For the first time in what felt like ages, she felt safe—truly safe.

–

Clarke walked into the lab the next morning, the faint hum of machinery filling the room. She immediately spotted Raven hunched over the workbench, her hair disheveled, dark circles under her eyes. It was clear she hadn’t slept. The dim blue lights of the lab reflected off the discarded tools and scraps of Disciple tech scattered across the table.

“Raven,” Clarke said, her tone a mix of concern and frustration. “How long have you been up?”

Raven didn’t even look up from the helmet she was working on, her fingers deftly manipulating a set of tiny wires. “I didn’t go to bed,” she said flatly, her voice edged with exhaustion.

Clarke sighed, stepping further into the room. “Raven, you can’t keep doing this to yourself. You need to rest.”

“I can’t,” Raven snapped, finally looking up at Clarke with bloodshot eyes. “Don’t you get it, Clarke? If I don’t figure this out, we’re not going home. We’re not getting to Bardo, we’re not saving Diyoza, and we’re never going to see our friends again.”

Clarke felt her chest tighten, the weight of Raven’s words hitting her hard. “Raven,” she said firmly, her voice rising slightly. “Pushing yourself like this isn’t going to help. If you burn out, then none of this will matter.”

Raven scoffed, setting down the helmet with more force than necessary. “You think I don’t know that?” she shot back. “But every second I waste sleeping or eating or whatever else is another second we’re stuck on this frozen hellhole. So, yeah, I’m going to keep going until I figure it out.”

Clarke’s frustration boiled over, and she stepped closer, her voice sharp. “And what happens if you collapse before you figure it out? What then? We need you, Raven, but we also need you to take care of yourself. This isn’t just about you—it’s about all of us.”

Raven shook her head stubbornly, ignoring Clarke’s pleas and turning back to the work in front of her. She muttered something under her breath, her hands moving deftly as she tinkered with the helmet’s internal systems. Clarke sighed heavily, frustration building, but she didn’t push further..

The faint hum of the lab was interrupted by a sharp crackle of electricity. Sparks shot out from the helmet, and Raven let out a startled scream, pulling her hands back instinctively. “Fuck!” she yelled, slamming her fist on the table. The helmet continued to emit faint wisps of smoke as it powered down, the glow of its interface fading completely.

Clarke stepped forward, alarmed. “Raven! Are you okay?” she asked urgently.

Raven didn’t respond right away. Instead, she grabbed the toolbox next to her and hurled it across the room. The loud clang echoed in the confined space, followed by the sound of tools scattering across the floor. Clarke flinched at the sudden outburst, her eyes wide with concern.

“Raven,” Clarke said softly, her voice cautious as she approached. “What happened?”

Raven’s hands trembled as she leaned heavily on the workbench, her head bowed. When she finally turned to face Clarke, her eyes were red, tears streaming down her cheeks. “It’s broken,” she said, her voice shaking with frustration and despair. “I fried the circuits. I thought I was close, Clarke—I thought I had it.”

Clarke reached out, placing a comforting hand on Raven’s arm. “Hey, it’s okay,” she said gently. “We’ll figure this out. It’s just a setback—nothing more.”

Raven shook her head violently, pulling away from Clarke’s touch. “No, it’s not okay!” she cried, her voice cracking. “This was our only chance, Clarke! We’re never getting off this planet, and it’s my fault.”

Tears welled in Clarke’s eyes as Raven’s words hit her, the hopelessness sinking deep. The thought of never seeing their friends again, of never holding Madi again, felt like a knife twisting in her chest. Her heart broke further as she watched Raven slide down the wall, her back pressed against the cold metal, and collapse onto the floor. Raven buried her face in her hands, her body trembling as sobs overtook her.

“I’m not smart enough,” Raven choked out between sobs. 

“Raven, no,” Clarke said firmly, moving to kneel in front of her. Her voice wavered, thick with her own emotions, but she refused to let Raven’s doubt consume her. “That’s not true. You are smart enough. You’ve always been smart enough.”

Raven shook her head, tears streaking her face. “I’ve failed so many times, Clarke,” she whispered. 

Clarke reached out and grabbed Raven’s hands, holding them tightly in her own. “You are not a failure,” she said, her voice steady despite the tears streaming down her cheeks. “You defeated ALIE, Raven. You saved humanity from being enslaved by her. When Praimfaya was coming, you were the one who got everyone up to space in time. And when Madi’s life was on the line, you were the one who helped me get the Flame out of her before it could fry her brain.”

Raven’s sobs quieted slightly, her red-rimmed eyes looking up at Clarke with a glimmer of hesitation.

“You’ve done the impossible more times than I can count,” Clarke continued, her voice softening but never losing its conviction. “And every single one of us is alive because of you. You don’t have to be perfect, Raven. You just have to keep trying—and that’s what makes you extraordinary.”

Raven shook her head as if trying to push away the lingering doubts. She sniffled and wiped her tears with the back of her hand, avoiding Clarke’s gaze. 

 Clarke sat back on her heels, meeting Raven’s tear-filled eyes. “You’ve done the impossible before, Raven. Remember ALIE? You were locked out of the system, and you still found a way to get back in. You used whatever tech you could find to work around her defenses and find the kill code. You beat her.”

Raven blinked, her lips trembling slightly as the weight of Clarke’s words began to sink in. She exhaled slowly, wiping her face with both hands as if physically clearing away her doubt. “I… I did do that, didn’t I?” she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Clarke nodded with a faint smile. “You did. You just need to remind yourself what you’re capable of.”

A spark of determination lit in Raven’s eyes, and she suddenly sat up straighter, her mind clearly racing. “Wait…” she murmured, glancing toward the workbench where the damaged helmet lay. “If I could reroute ALIE’s system, I can reroute the damaged circuits in the helmet too. It’s just a different kind of code…”

Her voice trailed off as she got to her feet, her movements suddenly quick and purposeful. She grabbed a nearby tool and inspected the helmet, her fingers tracing the damaged components. “I was trying to repair the circuits directly,” she muttered to herself. “But if I bypass the damage and create a temporary relay system, I can force it to reboot.”

Clarke stood, watching as Raven’s energy transformed from despair to determination. “You’ve got a plan?” Clarke asked, a small smile tugging at her lips.

Raven grinned, wiping her face one last time before focusing entirely on the helmet. “Hell yeah, I’ve got a plan,” she said, her voice filled with a renewed confidence. “It’s not going to be pretty, but it’ll work. I’ll get this thing back online, and then we’re getting off this planet.”

Clarke stepped closer, placing a hand on Raven’s shoulder. “I knew you could do it,” she said softly. 

Raven gave Clarke a quick nod before diving back into her work, her hands moving with precision and purpose. Clarke stepped back, watching her friend with a mix of admiration and relief. The spark was back in Raven’s eyes, and Clarke knew that as long as Raven had that fire, they still had hope.

–

Raven bursted into the office, where Kira was standing by a large interactive map, discussing plans with Clarke, Bellamy, and the others.

“Raven,” Clarke said, her eyes widening as she noticed the helmet in Raven’s hands. “Did you—?”

Raven grinned, holding the helmet up proudly. “It’s fixed,” she announced, her voice steady despite the exhaustion etched on her face. “I rerouted the damaged circuits, bypassed the fried connections, and reset the navigation system. This thing is fully operational.”

Kira’s eyes narrowed slightly as she stepped closer, studying the helmet. “You actually repaired Disciple tech?” she asked, her tone a mix of disbelief and awe. “That’s… incredible.”

“It’s not just repaired,” Raven said, her voice gaining momentum as she explained. “I figured out how to use it to interface with the anomaly stone. We can get off this planet and go to Bardo.”

The room fell silent for a moment as the weight of her words sank in. Then, almost simultaneously, everyone began speaking at once.

“You actually did it?” Gabriel said, his tone filled with genuine admiration.

“That’s insane,” Octavia muttered, shaking her head with a faint smirk. “You’re a damn genius.”

“Finally, we’re getting somewhere,” Bellamy added, his voice tinged with relief.

Hope’s eyes lit up, her hands clenched into fists. “This means we can save my mom,” she said, her voice trembling slightly.

Raven raised a hand, motioning for everyone to calm down. “Hold on,” she said. “We’re not done yet. I can get us to Bardo, but once we’re there, we’re going to be walking into enemy territory. We need a plan.”

Kira nodded, her expression thoughtful. “Agreed,” she said. “But this changes everything. With that helmet, you’ve given us a chance—something we’ve been waiting for years to find. If you can truly unlock the stone and access the network, you’re not just getting to Bardo. You’re giving us the tools to fight back.”

Clarke stepped forward, placing a hand on Raven’s shoulder. “You did it,” she said softly, her voice filled with gratitude. “You gave us hope again.”

Raven shrugged, though a faint smile played on her lips. “It’s what I do,” she said. “Now let’s figure out how to use this thing to end this war—and get back to the people we love.”

As the group gathered in the central room of the Nakara facility, Kira stood before them with a series of backpacks and supplies neatly laid out on a table. The room was filled with a quiet buzz of anticipation, the weight of their mission hanging over them. Clarke, Bellamy, Raven, Octavia, Gabriel, and the others listened intently as Kira went over the final preparations.

“These packs should cover you for at least a week,” Kira said, gesturing to the sturdy backpacks filled with supplies. “There’s enough food, water purifiers, and medical kits to keep you alive if things go south. And I’ve included extra ammunition and some of our more advanced guns. They’re not as high-tech as the Disciples’ weapons, but they’ll give you a fighting chance.”

Clarke stepped forward, picking up one of the packs and slinging it over her shoulder. “Thank you,” she said sincerely, her gaze steady. “For everything. We couldn’t have done this without you.”

Kira gave a small nod, her expression both serious and hopeful. “I should be thanking you,” she said. “For giving us a chance to fight back—and a chance to finally leave this frozen rock behind one day.”

Raven inspected one of the guns, her fingers tracing the smooth metal. “We’ll get to the cave, unlock the anomaly stone, and figure out how to use it to get to Bardo,” she said confidently. “Once we’re there, we’ll deal with the Disciples and find Diyoza.”

Kira crossed her arms, her gaze settling on Raven. “You’ve already accomplished more than most of my people ever dreamed of,” she said. “If anyone can get to Bardo and end this war, it’s you.”

Gabriel stepped forward, his brow furrowed in thought. “You mentioned knowing more about the Disciples,” he said. “Anything you can tell us before we go?”

Kira nodded. “The Disciples are relentless,” she said. “Their hierarchy is strict, and their soldiers are trained from birth to follow orders without question. But they’re not invincible. They rely on their tech and their belief in the so-called prophecy to maintain control. If you can disrupt their tech—or undermine their faith in the ‘last war’—you might have a chance to turn the tide.”

Octavia smirked faintly. “So, hit them where it hurts,” she said. “Got it.”

Kira’s expression turned somber. “Just remember,” she said. “They’re not just fighting for control—they truly believe they’re saving humanity. That makes them dangerous. But it also makes them predictable. Use that to your advantage.”

Clarke exchanged a glance with Bellamy, her resolve hardening. “We’ll get it done,” she said. “We’ll get to the stone, and we’ll stop this.”

Kira stepped back, her hands clasped in front of her. “Good luck,” she said. “You might not think it, but what you’re doing is bigger than just survival. You’re giving us all a chance to dream of something more—a chance to go home.”

At the mention of home, Clarke’s chest tightened. The thought of returning to Earth—of finding peace again—felt so far away, but Kira’s words ignited a spark of hope. She nodded firmly, gripping the strap of her pack.

“Let’s move,” Clarke said, her voice steady.

The group adjusted their gear, their faces set with determination as they prepared to leave. As they headed toward the exit, Kira watched them go, her expression filled with a mixture of gratitude and quiet optimism.

For the first time in years, the people of Nakara had a chance to hope. And as Clarke and her friends ventured toward the unknown, they carried that hope with them, determined to make it count.

–

As the group stepped outside, the biting cold air of Nakara hit them once again, cutting through their layers of clothing like icy knives. Their boots crunched against the snow with each step, the sound echoing faintly in the vast, desolate expanse. The dim light from the sun cast a faint glow over the landscape, making the endless ice and snow seem even more uninviting.

Raven adjusted the helmet on her head, its interface lighting up with faint blue holographics as it activated. She paused for a moment, tilting her head slightly as the display scanned the terrain. A thin, glowing outline appeared on the glacier ahead, marking the faint path toward their destination.

“There it is,” Raven said, her voice muffled slightly through the helmet. She pointed toward the distant glacier, “It’s deep beneath the ice, right where Kira said it would be.”

Clarke stepped forward, her gaze following Raven’s outstretched hand. She squinted, barely making out the shimmering hue. “How far is it?” she asked.

Raven tapped the side of the helmet, analyzing the data. “A couple of miles,” she said. “But the terrain’s rough. We’re going to have to navigate through some unstable ice. And the stone’s in a cave, so it won’t be a straight shot.”

Octavia tightened the strap of her pack and glanced at the rest of the group. “Let’s hope the Disciples didn’t leave us any surprises on the way,” she muttered, her tone laced with caution.

Bellamy adjusted his gloves, his breath visible in the freezing air. “If they did, we’ll deal with it,” he said, his voice steady. “But we need to keep moving. The longer we’re out here, the worse it’s going to get.”

As they trudged up a small hill of snow, the icy wind whipped around them, stinging their faces and forcing them to lean into the climb. Clarke was the first to crest the hill, squinting through the haze of frost as she spotted something in the distance. She pointed ahead, her voice carrying over the howl of the wind.

“There,” she said, her breath visible in the frigid air. “I see an opening. It looks like the entrance to a cave.”

Raven, still wearing the Disciple helmet, glanced at the glowing markers on her display. She nodded, her voice muffled as she confirmed, “That’s it. The path leads straight to the cave. The anomaly stone should be deeper inside.”

Miller raised his flashlight, shining it toward the cave entrance. The beam cut through the swirling snow, revealing the dark mouth of the cave, surrounded by jagged ice formations. “Doesn’t look that big,” he muttered, his tone skeptical. “Are we sure this is the right place?”

Octavia smirked, adjusting the strap of her pack as she moved to stand beside him. “Oh yeah, Miller,” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Because obviously, the key to unlocking the mysteries of the universe is hidden in a nice, cozy mansion, not a cramped, freezing cave.”

Miller shot her a look, but a faint smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Just saying,” he replied, “for something so important, it doesn’t look like much.”

“That’s kind of the point,” Raven quipped as she started down the hill toward the cave. “The Disciples aren’t exactly putting up welcome signs. The stone’s supposed to be hidden—and it’s up to us to find it.”

Clarke followed close behind, the rest of the group falling into step. As they approached the entrance, the wind seemed to die down slightly, the natural barrier of the cave offering some reprieve from the elements. 

Clarke reached into her bag, pulling out a flashlight and clicking it on. The beam of light cut through the darkness of the cave, illuminating the icy walls around them. Behind her, Raven activated the built-in flashlight on her helmet, the glow casting eerie reflections on the slick surfaces.

As the group moved deeper into the cave, the passage began to narrow, the ceiling dipping lower until they were forced to crouch. The sound of their footsteps became muffled against the icy floor, and the cold seemed to grow sharper, biting at their exposed skin.

“This is getting tight,” Miller muttered, shining his flashlight ahead and scowling as the passage shrank even more.

Raven stopped and tilted her head, focusing on the display in her helmet. “The helmet’s mapping the path,” she said, her voice slightly muffled. “It’s a crawlspace up ahead. We’ll have to squeeze through it, but once we’re past it, the stone is just on the other side.”

Hope frowned, her breath visible in the cold air. “How small are we talking?” she asked, glancing warily at the narrowing tunnel.

“Small enough,” Raven replied, glancing over her shoulder. “But it’s manageable. We just have to keep moving. The faster we get to the stone, the faster we get out of here.”

Octavia crouched down slightly, inspecting the crawlspace with her flashlight. She smirked, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Great. Nothing like crawling through an icy death trap to make you feel alive.”

Clarke shot her a look but didn’t respond. Instead, she knelt down and tested the crawlspace with her flashlight, shining the beam into the tight opening. The icy walls seemed to close in on each other, but there was just enough room to wiggle through.

Ravens helmet scanned ahead, illuminating the path with faint blue light. The symbols on the interface flickered as it analyzed their surroundings, providing constant updates on the conditions.

Clarke crawled close behind Raven, her flashlight casting long shadows on the walls. She kept her focus ahead, trying to ignore the suffocating tightness of the space. Behind her, Bellamy followed steadily, his movements deliberate and quiet. Octavia and the rest of the group came next, their breathing echoing faintly in the enclosed passage.

Miller, bringing up the rear, paused for a moment and wiped the sweat from his brow. “Is it just me, or is it starting to get hot in here?” he muttered, his voice carrying through the crawlspace.

Raven glanced at her helmet’s display, her brow furrowing. “It’s not just you,” she said. “The temperature’s rising. According to the scan, it’s gone up about 40 degrees since we entered.”

“Great,” Octavia said sarcastically, her voice laced with tension. “An icy death trap that’s also a sauna. Perfect.”

Clarke felt the heat too, the icy chill that had clung to her skin earlier now replaced by an oppressive warmth. Sweat began to bead on her forehead, and the air felt heavier with each passing second. “Why is it getting hotter the closer we get to the stone?” she asked, glancing at Raven.

Raven’s helmet scanned the walls, picking up faint traces of energy signatures. “The stone is radiating energy,” she explained, her voice steady but focused. “It’s destabilizing the environment around it. The closer we get, the more intense it’s going to feel.”

“Intense?” Bellamy echoed, his tone skeptical. “What does that mean exactly?”

Raven paused briefly, turning her head slightly toward him. “It means we should keep moving,” she said. “Whatever’s causing the heat might not be stable.”

Miller let out a low groan as he crawled forward. “Of course it’s not stable,” he muttered. “Why would anything be easy for us?”

As Raven crawled deeper into the increasingly hot and humid crawlspace, the faint glow from her helmet cast eerie shadows on the dripping walls. She squinted as something flickered in the corner of her eye—a shadow, a movement, something just out of focus. She froze.

Clarke, crawling directly behind her, noticed Raven’s hesitation. “Raven, are you okay?” Clarke asked, her voice cautious, the confined space amplifying the tension.

Raven hesitated for a beat too long, then shook her head quickly. “Y-yeah,” she said, her voice strained. 

But before she could move forward, something leaped out of the darkness with a sudden, horrifying screech. A spider-like creature, about the size of her hand, launched itself at her helmet, its long legs scrambling to latch onto the smooth surface. Raven screamed, jerking backward and clawing at the creature in a blind panic.

“Raven, what’s happening?!” Clarke yelled, her voice high with alarm as the confined space echoed with Raven’s screams. Clarke’s flashlight flickered wildly as she tried to see what was going on in the cramped, humid tunnel.

“It’s on me!” Raven shrieked, frantically clawing at her helmet. The spider-like creature clung tightly, its legs twitching as it scuttled around the reflective surface, the light from the helmet’s interface casting sharp shadows.

Bellamy, behind Clarke, heard the commotion and instinctively shouted, “What is it? Clarke, what’s happening?”

Clarke scrambled forward, trying to reach Raven. “It’s some kind of creature!” she yelled back, her voice laced with panic. 

Miller’s voice echoed sharply through the cramped crawlspace, the urgency in his tone unmistakable. “Raven, shoot it!” he yelled, the panic of the moment getting the better of him.

From further back, Niylah’s voice rang out, her tone filled with alarm. “No! Don’t shoot! We’re in a confined space! The ricochet will hit all of us!”

Raven, still clawing at the spider-like creature latched onto her helmet, let out a frustrated growl. “I’ve got this!” she shouted, her voice shaky but determined.

She pressed a button on the wristlet of her Disciple suit, and with a sharp metallic shing, a small blade extended from the mechanism. Without hesitation, Raven drove the knife into the creature’s body, stabbing it repeatedly. The spider let out an ear-piercing screech, its glowing body writhing and twitching as Raven’s blade sank deeper into its soft underbelly.

Clarke flinched at the sound, her flashlight shaking as she tried to steady herself in the narrow tunnel. “Keep going, Raven!” she encouraged, her voice strained.

The creature’s legs flailed wildly, scraping against the helmet, but Raven didn’t stop. Her movements were frantic, fueled by adrenaline and fear. With one final, forceful stab, the last creature let out a high-pitched hiss before going limp. Its glowing body dimmed, and it fell from the helmet with a wet thud, landing in the narrow space in front of her.

Raven panted, her chest heaving as she yanked the knife back into the wristlet and leaned against the icy wall of the crawlspace. “That thing… was disgusting,” she muttered, her voice shaking.

Raven crawled as quickly as she could, her movements more determined now, The humid, stifling air clung to her as she finally emerged into the open chamber beyond the crawlspace. She ripped off her helmet and leaned against the rock wall, panting heavily, her head soaked with sweat.

Behind her, Bellamy crawled out next, glancing back at the rest of the group before asking, “What was that thing?”

Gabriel, who was close behind, shrugged as he wiped his brow. “It looked like some kind of parasite,” he said, his voice calm but speculative. “Probably adapted to this environment. The heat, the energy from the anomaly stone—it’s all connected. It could be a predator that thrives near the stone’s energy field.”

Bellamy frowned, his gaze flicking toward Raven. “Great. Just what we needed.”

Clarke crawled out next, quickly stepping toward Raven as the others followed behind. She knelt beside her, placing a hand on her friend’s shoulder. “Raven,” she said, her voice soft but concerned. “Are you okay?”

Raven leaned back, wiping the sweat from her forehead with a trembling hand. “I’m fine,” she said, her breath coming in short bursts. “That thing just freaked me out, that’s all. I wasn’t expecting to get ambushed by a giant space spiders.”

Clarke frowned, her blue eyes filled with worry. “You’ve been pushing yourself so hard,” she said quietly. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Raven nodded, her determination returning despite the exhaustion in her eyes. “Yeah,” she said, straightening up. “I’m fine, Clarke. Really. I just need a second to cool off.”

Bellamy glanced toward the faint glow of the anomaly stone deeper in the chamber, his expression tense. “We don’t have much time,” he said. “If there’s a couple of those things, there could be more.”

Octavia, standing nearby, crossed her arms and smirked faintly. “Guess we’ll just have to kill them too,” she said. “No big deal.”

Miller groaned as he emerged from the crawlspace, shining his flashlight around. “This planet officially sucks,” he muttered. “Let’s just get this done and get out of here.”

Raven nodded firmly, her resolve hardening as she adjusted the helmet. “The anomaly stone isn’t much further,” she told Clarke, her voice steady but tinged with urgency. She turned to lead the way deeper into the chamber, but suddenly froze mid-step.

A smooth, shimmering wall of stone had appeared directly in front of them, seemingly out of nowhere. It gleamed faintly in the dim light, blocking the path forward. Raven stared at it, her brow furrowing in confusion. “That… that wasn’t there before,” she muttered, her voice uncertain.

Clarke’s stomach dropped, and she turned quickly, scanning the area with her flashlight. “Where’s Bellamy and Octavia?” she asked, her voice rising slightly with concern. “They were right behind us.”

Raven spun around, her helmet scanning for any signs of the others. Her voice was tense as she replied, “Where’s everyone else?”

Clarke’s breath quickened as she realized the rest of their group was nowhere to be seen. The crawlspace they had just come through was gone, replaced by another shimmering wall. “What the hell is happening?” Clarke whispered, her flashlight flickering slightly.

Raven’s helmet beeped softly, her gaze darting between its readouts and the walls surrounding them. “I don’t know,” she said, her voice edged with frustration and worry. “This has to be the anomaly’s doing. It’s… shifting the space around us.”

“Shifting space?” Clarke repeated, her voice tight. “What does that even mean?”

“It means the anomaly isn’t just some energy field,” Raven said, her tone sharp as she tried to make sense of the data. “It’s manipulating the environment. We’re trapped in some kind of—”

Before she could finish, the ground beneath them trembled slightly, and the hum of the anomaly stone grew louder, reverberating through the chamber. Clarke instinctively reached out to steady herself against the wall, her heart pounding. “Raven, we need to figure this out—now,” she said, her voice urgent.

As Raven worked to analyze the wall, faint voices echoed through the chamber. She turned her head sharply, her helmet amplifying the sound. “Wait,” she said, holding up a hand to Clarke. “I hear something—Jordan and Miller. It’s coming from the left.”

Clarke’s stomach churned with anxiety as she turned in the direction Raven indicated. The faint echoes of Jordan and Miller’s voices were unmistakable, though the words were hard to make out. “They’re trapped on the other side,” Clarke said, her heart sinking. “We need to get to them.”

Before Raven could respond, a muffled thud caught their attention from the other side of the wall. Clarke’s heart skipped a beat as she realized it was Bellamy. She could hear his voice, muffled but frustrated. “Octavia, help me!” Bellamy shouted, followed by the sound of another body slam against the wall.

“Bellamy!” Clarke yelled, rushing toward the shimmering surface. Her hands pressed against it, the cold sending a jolt up her arms. “Can you hear me?”

On the other side of the wall, Bellamy froze, his chest heaving from the effort. “Clarke?” he called back, his voice faint and distorted.

“Stop hitting the wall, Bellamy,” Octavia’s voice cut in, sharp but filled with concern. “You’re just going to hurt yourself Bell. Whatever this is, brute force isn’t going to work.”

Bellamy let out a frustrated growl, his hands pressing against the wall. “What else are we supposed to do? We’re stuck in here!”

Clarke’s fingers tightened against the shimmering surface, desperation clawing at her chest. “We’re going to figure this out,” she said firmly, her voice trembling but resolute. “Just hold on.”

Raven pulled the helmet off her head again, letting out a frustrated breath. Her hairline was drenched in sweat, and her face glistened from the oppressive heat inside the chamber. She ran a shaky hand through her hair, her eyes darting around the shimmering walls of the space.

“Clarke,” Raven muttered, her voice tinged with disbelief. “This isn’t a cave.”

Clarke turned to look at her, confusion etched across her face. “What do you mean it’s not a cave?” she asked, her flashlight still aimed at the glistening walls. “It’s clearly—”

“No,” Raven cut her off, stepping back as she gestured toward the shimmering walls and the faintly glowing green surface beneath their feet. “It’s not a cave. It’s alive.”

Clarke froze, her stomach dropping at Raven’s words. “What are you talking about?” she asked, her voice trembling slightly. “How can it be alive?”

Raven crouched beside her helmet, picking it up and pointing at the readouts on the side. “The scans don’t make sense if this is just rock and ice,” she explained, her voice quick and insistent. “There’s a consistent energy pulse—like a heartbeat—running through the walls. And the temperature spikes? They’re too localized, too deliberate. It’s reacting to us, Clarke. That’s why the paths are shifting, why we’re being separated. It’s not a cave—it’s some kind of living organism.”

Clarke’s mouth went dry as she stared at the walls around her, the faint shimmering patterns now taking on a new, unnerving meaning. “You’re saying we’re inside… something?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Raven nodded, her expression grim. “Yeah,” she said. “Something ancient, something massive. And it’s not just sitting here passively—it’s aware of us.”

Clarke’s heart sank as Raven’s words settled over her like a crushing weight. Her mind raced, the implications of what they were facing dawning on her. They weren’t just lost in a cave—they were trapped inside something alive, something ancient and incomprehensible. The realization was terrifying, but it also made sense.

Raven began moving cautiously, her helmet scanning the walls and floor for any signs of shifting paths or hidden dangers. The faint hum of the anomaly stone grew louder with each step, resonating through the chamber like the heartbeat of the living structure around them. Clarke followed close behind, her flashlight sweeping the space as her nerves prickled with unease.

The air grew hotter, the walls glistening with condensation as if the organism was sweating. Every step felt heavier, the oppressive atmosphere bearing down on them. Clarke’s heart raced, but she pushed forward, her determination driving her.

They didn’t have much time. The stone was their only way out—and their only hope of reuniting with the rest of the group before it was too late.

Chapter Text

Clarke sat on the, damp ground, her head leaning back against the shimmering wall as sweat dripped down her forehead. Her chest rose and fell with each heavy breath, exhaustion creeping into her muscles. She wiped her face with her sleeve, the oppressive heat of the chamber making it nearly impossible to think straight.

Raven, meanwhile, was pacing back and forth, the faint glow of her helmet illuminating her tense expression. Her hands moved restlessly, occasionally fiddling with the wrist controls on her suit, as if trying to piece together a plan on the spot. “This doesn’t make sense,” she muttered to herself. “The readings are changing—it’s like this thing knows what we’re doing and it’s messing with us.”

Clarke tilted her head, straining to hear the muffled voices coming from beyond the shimmering wall. It was Miller and Jordan, their words faint and distorted, but just clear enough for her to catch snippets of their conversation.

“I think they’re trying to find us,” Clarke murmured, her voice hoarse. She turned to Raven. “Miller said something about tracking the sound of our voices. They might be trying to map their way back to us.”

Raven stopped pacing, turning sharply toward Clarke. “That’s not going to work,” she said, her tone edged with frustration. “This place is shifting constantly. If they move without a clear path, they’re going to get even more lost—or worse.”

Clarke swallowed hard, her mind racing as she tried to think of a solution. “We can’t just sit here,” she said, her voice firm despite her weariness. “If they’re moving, we need to figure out how to meet them halfway. There has to be a way to disrupt whatever this… thing is doing.”

Raven sat down heavily next to Clarke, the weight of the situation etched across her face. She placed the helmet in her lap, her fingers brushing over its surface as if she were searching for answers in its intricate design. Letting out a long, frustrated sigh, she tilted her head back, her breath fogging the humid air. “I don’t know what else to do,” she admitted quietly, her voice heavy with exhaustion. “I’m praying these damn walls will move on their own.”

Meanwhile, on the other side of the shimmering barrier, Bellamy’s frustration boiled over. He slammed his shoulder into the unyielding wall again, gritting his teeth as the force reverberated back into him. The impact left a dull ache in his arm, but he didn’t care. “Come on!” he growled, his voice raw. “Open up!”

“Bell, stop it!” Octavia snapped, grabbing his arm and pulling him back. Her tone was sharp, but the worry in her eyes betrayed her own fear. “You’re not going to break it down. You’re just going to hurt yourself.”

Bellamy shook her off, his jaw clenched tight. “I can’t just stand here!” he yelled, his voice cracking. He gestured wildly at the wall, his breath coming in uneven gasps. “They’re on the other side, O! Clarke’s on the other side. What if something happens to her? To all of them?”

Octavia crossed her arms, leaning back against the icy wall as she watched Bellamy pace in front of her, his frustration bubbling over. She tilted her head slightly, her sharp gaze fixed on him. “You keep saying it’s about everyone, but we both know that’s not true,” she said, her tone blunt and cutting through the tension.

Bellamy stopped mid-step, turning to glare at her. “What the hell are you talking about?” he snapped. “Of course I care about everyone. I’m worried about all of them.”

Octavia scoffed, pushing off the wall and stepping closer to him. “Don’t lie to me, Bellamy,” she said, her voice lowering but losing none of its edge. “ This is different. You’re not just worried about everyone—you’re freaking out about Clarke.”

Bellamy shook his head, his expression hardening. “That’s not true,” he said firmly, though his voice lacked its usual conviction. “I’m worried about all of them—Raven, Miller, Jordan. Everyone.”

Octavia narrowed her eyes, calling his bluff. “I saw the way you looked at her when you came back from the ring,” she said. “I saw you give her CPR on sanctum. You were out of your mind when she wasn’t breathing. Don’t stand there and tell me this isn’t about Clarke.”

Bellamy’s jaw tightened, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. “I care about all of my friends,” he said defensively. “I’d do the same for anyone.”

“No,” Octavia said, stepping closer and pointing a finger at his chest. “You wouldn’t. Not like that. I know you, Bellamy. You’ve always been protective, but the way you look at Clarke? The way you’re acting right now? You’re not fooling anyone, least of all me.”

Bellamy’s jaw tightened, the tension in his body palpable as he turned away from Octavia, trying to brush off the conversation. “This isn’t the time for this,” he muttered, his voice low and clipped. “We need to focus on getting out of here.”

But Octavia wasn’t about to let him off the hook. She stepped closer, her voice sharp and unrelenting. “Stop it, Bellamy. You can change the subject all you want, but it doesn’t make it any less true.”

Bellamy froze, his fists clenched at his sides, his back still to her. Octavia took another step forward, her tone softening but still firm. “You’re in love with her,” she said plainly. “And you know it. Everyone knows it. Hell, she probably knows it. So what’s taking you so long to realize that?”

Bellamy turned back to face her, his expression conflicted, his brown eyes filled with a mix of frustration and vulnerability. “Octavia, drop it,” he said, his voice wavering slightly despite his attempt to sound firm. “This isn’t—”

“No,” Octavia interrupted, her voice rising slightly. “I’m not dropping it. You’ve been in love with Clarke for years, Bellamy. And don’t act like you haven’t seen it. The way you look at her, the way you’d do anything for her.”

Bellamy stared at her, his lips pressing into a thin line as her words hit him like a freight train. He tried to come up with a rebuttal, something to deflect, but nothing came.

“And don’t even try to say it’s one-sided,” Octavia continued, stepping even closer. “Because Clarke? She feels the same way. I’ve seen it. Everyone’s seen it. So why the hell are you two still dancing around it?”

Bellamy’s shoulders sagged slightly, the weight of the truth settling over him. “It’s not that simple,” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

Octavia rolled her eyes, letting out a small laugh that was more exasperated than amused. “It’s always not that simple with you two,” she said. “But it is, Bellamy. You love her. She loves you. Stop wasting time.”

Bellamy looked down, his hands still clenched at his sides, his mind racing. He thought about Clarke on the other side of the wall, about the countless times he’d put her life before his own, about the moments they’d shared—moments he’d tried to bury, to rationalize, but could never truly ignore.

Octavia’s voice softened, her hand resting gently on his arm. “You’ve already lost her once,” she said quietly. “Don’t let fear keep you from her now. Life’s too short for that.”

Bellamy swallowed hard, his throat tight as he nodded slowly. “I just… I don’t know if it’s the right time,” he admitted, his voice barely audible.

Octavia tilted her head, giving him a pointed look. “If not now, then when?” she asked simply. “After all of this? After the war? Bell, there’s never going to be a perfect time. You just have to decide if you’re ready to stop running from it.”

Bellamy met her gaze, his jaw loosening as the truth of her words settled in his chest. He didn’t respond, but the resolve in his eyes was clear. He wasn’t going to waste any more time. Not with Clarke. Not with anything.

Clarke adjusted her grip on the flashlight, her beam cutting through the dark, humid air. She pointed it upward, scanning the ceiling for any sign of an opening or weakness in the strange, shifting walls. The faint hum of the anomaly stone grew louder, vibrating through the ground beneath them.

Suddenly, the floor began to tremble. It started as a low rumble, then escalated into a full quake. Clarke stumbled slightly, catching herself against the wall as loose droplets of condensation dripped from above. Raven, standing nearby, froze in place, her breath catching in her throat.

“Oh god,” Raven whispered, the words muffled and barely audible. Her hands gripped the helmet she held, her knuckles white. “This isn’t good.”

The shimmering walls that surrounded them began to shift again, but this time, the movement wasn’t subtle or gradual. The walls pressed inward, inch by inch, making the already claustrophobic space feel even tighter. Raven took a shaky step closer to Clarke, her eyes wide with panic.

“They’re closing in,” Raven said, her voice trembling. “Clarke… we’re not going to make it.”

Clarke turned to her, her flashlight shaking slightly in her hand. “Don’t say that,” she said sharply, her voice firm despite the fear in her chest. “We’ll figure something out. You’ll think of something, Raven. You always do.”

But Raven shook her head, tears welling in her eyes. “No,” she said, her voice breaking. “I can’t… I can’t do this. if I can’t get us out of here, I’m going to be the reason none of us get home. The reason we all—”

“Stop,” Clarke interrupted, stepping closer and grabbing Raven by the shoulders. Her grip was firm but steady, her eyes locked onto Raven’s. “You are not the reason we’re here. You’ve done everything you can to get us this far. You’ve fought for us every step of the way. And you are not giving up now.”

Raven tried to lighten the suffocating tension with a shaky laugh, glancing sideways at Clarke. “Whatever happens,” she said, her voice cracking slightly, “you don’t break, Clarke.”

Clarke gave a faint scoff, her flashlight shaking slightly in her hand as the ground trembled again beneath them. “That’s not true,” she replied softly, her voice filled with vulnerability. 

Raven turned her head, catching Clarke’s eyes through the dim light. Her smirk was weak, but there was genuine admiration behind it. “Could’ve fooled me,” she said quietly. “You always get back up.”

Clarke shook her head, her throat tightening. “No, Raven,” she said firmly, stepping closer as the walls continued to shimmer and press inward. “You’re the strongest person I know.”Raven blinked, startled by Clarke’s words. “Clarke, I—”

“You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for,” Clarke interrupted, her voice unwavering. “From what happened to your mom, to making it into zero G training—something no one thought you’d do because of the physical exam—but you did it because you’re that smart. And you kept going, even after what happened with your leg, after losing Finn, after what happened with A.L.I.E., after losing Shaw…” Clarke paused, her voice thick with emotion. “After everything.”

Raven’s lips trembled as she listened, the weight of Clarke’s words sinking into her. She gave a small, shaky smile. “Clarke…”

Clarke reached out, gripping Raven’s shoulder tightly. “You’re a survivor, Raven. And you’ve done all of it with so much strength. You’ve kept us alive more times than I can count. So don’t you dare say you can’t do this—because you can.”

Raven looked away for a moment, blinking back the tears that threatened to fall. When she turned back, she gave Clarke a faint but genuine smile. “You’re not so bad yourself, Griffin,” she said quietly. 

Before Clarke could respond, the walls began to shake violently, the shimmering surface rippling like water. Dust and droplets of condensation rained down from above, and the floor beneath them trembled as if it might split open.

Raven moved instinctively, wrapping her arms around Clarke, pulling her close in the confined space. Clarke stiffened for a moment, caught off guard by the gesture, before leaning into the embrace. Her flashlight fell to the ground, casting long, dancing shadows on the walls as the tremors continued.

Raven muttered something under her breath, her voice so faint that Clarke barely caught it. “I’m so sorry.”

Clarke’s chest tightened at the words, and she clung to Raven, her breath shaky as she whispered, “Don’t say that. Don’t do this. We’re going to make it.”

Raven shook her head, her voice cracking as she spoke louder now, the emotions pouring out. “No, Clarke. I need to say this. I’m sorry for the way I treated you, for all the things I said. I didn’t understand… not really. Not until now.”

Clarke pulled back slightly, just enough to look into Raven’s tear-filled eyes. “Raven…”

“I never understood what it felt like to be a leader,” Raven continued, her voice trembling. “To have to make impossible choices. To carry that weight every single day. I judged you for it, Clarke. I blamed you for things I didn’t even try to understand. But I get it now. I really do.”

The words hit Clarke like a punch to the chest. She opened her mouth to respond, but Raven kept going, her grip on Clarke tightening as the tremors intensified.

“I don’t know how you’ve done it,” Raven said, tears streaming down her face now. “But I’m so thankful that you did. That you never gave up on any of us, even when we didn’t deserve it. You’re my family, Clarke. And I’m grateful for you, no matter what happens.”

Clarke’s tears streamed down her face, her chest heaving with emotion as she held onto Raven tightly. The walls around them shook violently, the sound of the anomaly stone’s hum reaching a deafening crescendo. Clarke’s heart pounded, her breath catching as she whispered, “This might be it.”

Raven nodded, her arms wrapped tightly around Clarke as the tremors threatened to knock them off their feet. 

But then, just as the shaking reached its peak, it stopped. The hum quieted to a low pulse, and the oppressive weight in the air lifted as if the living structure around them had relented. The sudden silence was almost more unnerving than the noise.

Clarke’s breath hitched as she pulled back slightly, her eyes darting around the now-still chamber. “What just happened?” she whispered, her voice trembling.

Before Raven could respond, a familiar voice echoed through the chamber. “Clarke!”

Clarke’s head whipped around, her heart leaping into her throat. “Bellamy?” she called back, her voice thick with disbelief and hope.

She turned toward the source of the sound, and there they were—Bellamy, Octavia, and the others, standing together just a few feet away. The shimmering walls had shifted, dissolving the barriers that had separated them. The sight of them all together again made Clarke’s knees nearly buckle with relief.

Bellamy rushed forward, his face a mix of worry and overwhelming relief. “Clarke,” he said, his voice filled with emotion as he reached for her.

Clarke stepped toward him, her legs unsteady, and they embraced tightly, her tears spilling freely now. “You’re here,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “You’re all here.”

Octavia and the others moved closer, their faces showing varying degrees of shock and relief. “What the hell just happened?” Octavia asked, her tone sharp but edged with disbelief. “The walls just… moved.”

Raven turned to Octavia, her voice carrying a mix of frustration and disbelief. “You realize we’re not standing in a cave right now, right? This whole place—it’s a living organism.”

Octavia’s eyes widened slightly, glancing at the walls around her. “Wait, what?” she asked, her tone laced with skepticism. “You’re saying we’ve been crawling around inside something alive this whole time?”

Miller groaned loudly, shaking his head as he adjusted his gun strap. “Great,” he muttered sarcastically. “Another planet trying to kill us. I am so done with this. Can we just find a nice, normal place to survive? Maybe with beaches?”

Jackson ignored Miller’s comment, his focus on Raven as he stepped closer to her. “Are you okay?” he asked softly, his concern evident. 

Raven gave him a small, tired smile, her shoulders slumping slightly. “I’m fine,” she said, though her voice betrayed her weariness. “It’s just… this place is messing with my head. I’ll be fine once we’re out of here.”

Before Jackson could respond, Niylah pointed ahead, her voice cutting through the tension. “Raven, look.”

Raven turned her head, her eyes following Niylah’s outstretched arm. There, glowing faintly in the distance, was the anomaly stone. The sight of it filled the group with a renewed sense of hope.

Raven let out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding, a faint smirk tugging at her lips. “There it is,” she said, her voice filled with determination. She reached up and slid her helmet back on, the interface lighting up as it synced with the stone’s energy. “We’re finally getting out of here.”

Clarke stepped up beside her, her flashlight aimed at the stone. “Let’s move,” she said firmly, glancing back at the group.

Bellamy gave a quick nod, his hand resting on his weapon as he moved to Clarke’s side. Octavia, Miller, Hope, Jordan, Gabriel, Niylah, and Jackson all fell into step, their collective exhaustion giving way to a shared resolve.

As the group cautiously approached the anomaly stone, the air around it seemed to thrum with an unnatural energy. The stone itself stood in the center of the chamber, glowing with a pulsing green light, but something about it felt… off. Surrounding the stone was a strange, translucent goo that shimmered faintly in the light. The substance stretched across the ground and walls like veins, pulsating in rhythm with the stone.

As they drew closer, their flashlights illuminated something even more chilling: bodies. Scattered around the stone were the remains of people, their features distorted and unrecognizable. The clothing and gear suggested they were from Nakara, but the extent of their decay made it impossible to tell how long they’d been there.

Octavia broke the tense silence, her voice low and grim. “Now we know what happened to their people who went missing on Nakara,” she said, gesturing to the bodies. “They came here—and didn’t make it out.”

Miller grimaced, his flashlight sweeping over the gruesome scene. “Great,” he muttered under his breath. “This just keeps getting better.”

Raven, standing near the edge of the goo, activated her helmet. It scanned the anomaly stone, her helmet lighting up with symbols and data. She focused intently, trying to make sense of the information.

Clarke, standing beside her, glanced nervously between the stone and the dead bodies. “How do we even know this next planet will be Bardo?” she asked, her voice tense. “What if it’s not? What if it’s worse than this?”

Raven didn’t look up from her helmet’s interface. “We don’t,” she said bluntly, her voice steady but heavy with resignation. “There’s no way to know for sure. This thing doesn’t exactly come with a manual.”

Clarke frowned, her stomach twisting at Raven’s response. “Then how do we know we’re not just walking into another death trap?” she pressed.

Raven finally turned to her, her expression visible through the visor. “We don’t,” she repeated, her voice softer this time. “But staying here isn’t an option, Clarke. This planet will kill us if we don’t keep moving. We take the leap and hope for the best.”

Clarke nodded reluctantly, her heart heavy with uncertainty. The sight of the dead bodies around the stone made her chest tighten, staying here wasn’t an option. 

As Raven carefully touched the strange symbols on the anomaly stone, guided by the glowing prompts on her helmet, the air around the stone began to shift. A faint green glow intensified, swirling outward in rippling waves. The hum of the anomaly stone grew louder, vibrating through the chamber as the anomaly itself began to form.

But then, a screeching noise echoed through the cavern, sharp and chilling. Clarke’s head snapped toward the sound, her heart pounding as she realized what was coming. Emerging from the shadows and goo-covered walls were more of the spider-like creatures they had encountered earlier. Their glowing, pulsating bodies moved unnervingly fast as they scuttled toward the group.

“Not again!” Clarke shouted, raising her gun and firing at the nearest creature. The sharp crack of her gunshot echoed through the chamber, followed by the sickening thud of a creature’s body hitting the ground.

Octavia didn’t hesitate. She pulled out her weapon and began firing as well, each shot precise and deadly. “They just keep coming!” she yelled over the deafening screeches, her voice laced with frustration and determination.

Miller, Jordan and Bellamy quickly joined in, their guns blazing as they tried to hold back the advancing creatures. Gabriel, Jackson, Hope and Niylah stayed near Raven, shielding her as she focused on the symbols.

“Raven, how much longer?!” Clarke yelled, her voice strained as she reloaded her weapon. Another spider creature leapt toward her, and she quickly aimed and fired, the creature’s body crumpling mid-air before it could reach her.

Raven didn’t look up, her hands moving quickly across the stone as the helmet guided her through the sequence. “Almost there!” she shouted, her voice tight with concentration. “Just keep them off me!”

Clarke shot another creature that had gotten too close, her heart racing as the swarm seemed to grow larger. She glanced toward Raven, her voice urgent. “We can’t hold them off forever!”

Just as another wave of creatures began to close in, the anomaly stone emitted a loud, resonant hum. The green glow intensified, swirling into a fully-formed anomaly. The portal shimmered with an almost hypnotic energy, its surface rippling like liquid light.

“It’s open!” Raven yelled, stepping back from the stone and turning to the group. “Go! Now!”

Clarke fired one last shot before grabbing Raven’s arm and pulling her toward the anomaly. “Move!” she shouted, her voice commanding.

One by one, the group began to retreat toward the anomaly, their weapons still firing at the oncoming swarm. The creatures screeched louder, their movements frantic as if trying to stop them from escaping.

Bellamy held back to cover the rear, his gun blazing as he yelled, “Clarke, go! I’ve got you!”

Clarke hesitated for a split second, her instincts telling her to stay with him, but Raven shoved her toward the anomaly. “Go, Clarke!” Raven urged, her helmet lighting up as she prepared to follow.

With one last glance at Bellamy, Clarke turned and stepped into the anomaly, the swirling energy engulfing her as the world around her shifted into blinding light. One by one, the others followed, leaving the screeching creatures behind as they plunged into the unknown.

–

The last thing Clarke could recall was the chaos of the spider creatures, the deafening screeches, and the blinding light of the anomaly. But now, everything was different. She felt weightless, surrounded by the cool, heavy pull of water. Her eyes fluttered open, and her heart raced as she realized she wasn’t on Nakara anymore.

She began to swim toward the surface, her lungs burning slightly as she pushed herself upward. Breaking through the water, she gasped for air, her breaths quick and sharp. She turned her head to see Raven, Niylah, and Bellamy surfacing behind her, their expressions filled with a mix of confusion and urgency.

“Swim to shore!” Clarke called out, her voice shaky but determined. She pointed toward a distant beach, the sand gleaming under the bright light of a blue sky.

One by one, they began swimming toward the shore, the water surprisingly calm and clear. Clarke’s arms ached with the effort, but the sight of solid ground drove her forward. When she finally reached the shallows, her feet touched the sandy bottom, and she stumbled onto the beach, collapsing onto the warm, dry sand. She lay there for a moment, her chest heaving as she caught her breath.

The others followed closely behind her. Raven collapsed beside her, groaning as she pushed her soaked hair out of her face. Niylah and Bellamy weren’t far behind, both of them breathing heavily as they sprawled out on the beach.

Clarke finally sat up, wiping the water from her face. As she looked around, her eyes widened in awe. The sky above was a vibrant, crystalline blue, unlike Earth’s atmosphere. There was a sharp clarity to the air, and a massive ring-like structure hung high in the sky, glowing faintly. It was both beautiful and surreal.

“What the hell is this place?” Raven muttered, her voice hoarse as she gazed up at the sky. Her helmet had been knocked askew in the water and now dangled uselessly from her wrist.

Clarke shook her head, her voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know,” she said. “But it’s not Nakara. It’s… something else.”

Bellamy sat up, his wet shirt clinging to his chest as he glanced around. “Where are the others?” he asked, his voice tense. “Octavia, Miller, Gabriel… where are they?”

As Clarke scanned the shoreline, her eyes widened with relief when she spotted Jackson, Hope, and Jordan sitting a little further down the beach. They were drenched, sand sticking to their clothes as they tried to catch their breath. Jordan was wringing out his jacket, while Jackson leaned back on his hands, his face filled with exhaustion. Hope, sitting cross-legged, looked shaken but otherwise unharmed.

“They’re here,” Clarke said, motioning toward them. Bellamy and Raven followed her gaze, their shoulders relaxing slightly at the sight of their friends.

Clarke wasted no time walking toward them, Bellamy and Raven close behind. “Are you all okay?” she called out, her voice filled with concern.

Jackson looked up and nodded. “We’re fine,” he said, pushing himself to his feet. “Just soaked and confused, but otherwise okay.”

“Where’s Octavia? Miller? Gabriel?” Clarke asked, her stomach twisting with worry.

Hope shook her head, her expression a mix of guilt and fear. “I don’t know,” she said softly. “We came through, but… they’re not here.”

Clarke exchanged a look with Bellamy, her lips pressing into a tight line. She pushed her worry aside for now, focusing on the people in front of her. “We’ll find them,” she said firmly, though her voice carried a hint of doubt.

Raven, standing slightly off to the side, adjusted the suit she was wearing, her fingers brushing over the wrist controls. Clarke noticed her fidgeting and turned to her, concern creeping into her voice. “Raven, are you okay? What about the suit? Did the water mess with it?”

Raven looked up, offering a tired but reassuring smirk. “Relax, Clarke,” she said, her voice steady. “The suit’s fine. Most of it’s waterproof—it’s still working.” She tapped a button on her wrist controls, and the suit’s wrist lit up faintly, displaying readings and symbols. “See? All good.”

Clarke let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. “Okay,” she said, her voice softening. “Good. We might need it.”

Raven nodded, her smirk fading slightly as she glanced back at the strange sky and the massive ring looming above them. “Yeah,” she said quietly. “I have a feeling this suit’s going to come in handy.”

Bellamy stepped closer, his eyes scanning the beach and the surrounding area. “We need to figure out where we are and what’s nearby,” he said. “This place might look peaceful, but we don’t know what we’re dealing with.”

Raven gazed out at the impossibly blue water, her lips curving into a faint smirk. “Well, I’ll give this place one thing—it’s way nicer than Nakara,” she said, her voice light but still edged with caution. “The weather’s mild, the water’s gorgeous… it almost makes you forget we’re stuck in another unknown death trap.”

Clarke glanced at her briefly before turning her attention to the woods behind them. The dense trees loomed tall, their leaves swaying gently in the breeze. It wasn’t entirely alien—some of the foliage resembled Earth’s—but there were unmistakable differences: strange, glowing plants sprouted at random intervals, and some of the trees seemed to hum faintly, their bark shimmering in the light.

Clarke’s grip tightened on her flashlight as she motioned for the group to follow her. “We need to see what’s in there,” she said. “If there’s shelter, supplies, or anything that can help us, we need to find it.”

The group nodded, falling into a cautious line as they ventured into the woods. The air grew cooler as they moved deeper, the hum of the anomaly fading behind them. The forest floor was soft, almost spongy, beneath their boots, and the strange, bioluminescent plants cast an ethereal glow around them.

“It’s weird,” Raven muttered, her eyes scanning the unfamiliar terrain as she clutched her helmet tightly. “It’s like Earth, but… not. Everything’s just a little too strange.”

They continued deeper into the woods until Clarke suddenly stopped, holding up a hand to signal the group to halt. “Look,” she whispered, pointing ahead.

Through the trees, they saw a cluster of sleek, futuristic cabins nestled in a small clearing. The structures were smooth and metallic, their surfaces reflecting the soft light filtering through the forest canopy. They looked like they belonged in a sci-fi movie, with rounded edges and faintly glowing panels.

“What the hell…” Bellamy murmured, his hand instinctively moving toward the weapon at his side.

Raven let out a soft laugh, shaking her head as she adjusted the helmet in her hands. “This place just keeps getting stranger and stranger,” she said. “First the anomaly, then this planet, and now… high-tech camping cabins? What’s next?”

Clarke’s brow furrowed as she stepped closer, her instincts screaming at her to be cautious. “We need to check it out,” she said firmly. “But stay alert. If these cabins are still intact, someone might be living here.”

Clarke crouched low behind a dense cluster of bushes, her heart pounding as she peered at the futuristic cabins. The structures were sleek, with glowing edges that softly lit the clearing. Despite their high-tech appearance, they seemed to blend seamlessly into the natural surroundings, their metallic surfaces reflecting the greenery of the woods.

Her breath caught as she noticed movement. In front of one of the cabins, a group of people was tending to a large garden. Rows of vibrant plants, some resembling Earth crops while others looked completely alien, stretched out neatly. The gardeners worked with focus and ease, their clothes simple yet clean, as if they were accustomed to this way of life.

Clarke’s gaze shifted to the left, where a few children were playing near another cabin. Their laughter echoed softly through the clearing, their carefree movements striking a stark contrast to the tension Clarke felt in her chest. One child chased another with a stick, pretending it was a sword, while another climbed a tree, their small hands gripping the branches with practiced confidence.

She glanced back at the group behind her, motioning for them to stay low. Bellamy crouched beside her, his hand resting on the hilt of his knife, his eyes scanning the scene with caution. Raven and Niylah huddled close, Raven still clutching her helmet tightly. Jackson, Jordan, and Hope stayed further back, their expressions a mix of curiosity and unease.

“They don’t look like disciples,” Clarke whispered, her voice barely audible. “They’re just… living. Gardening. Playing.”

Bellamy leaned in slightly, his voice low but firm. “That doesn’t mean they’re not dangerous. We don’t know who they are or what they want.”

Raven tilted her head, watching the scene with narrowed eyes. “They don’t look like soldiers,” she murmured. “They look… normal. Like people just trying to survive.”

Clarke’s eyes darted between the cabins and the people, her mind racing. “If they’re living here, they might have answers,” she said quietly. “About this planet, about the anomaly. About how to get to Bardo.”

“And what if they’re hostile?” Bellamy asked, his tone sharp. “We walk in there, and it could be a trap.”

Clarke hesitated, her grip tightening on her flashlight. She couldn’t ignore the possibility, but the sight of the children playing tugged at something deep within her. This didn’t look like a trap. It looked like a community—one that might have answers they desperately needed.

“We can’t stay hidden forever,” Clarke said finally, her voice steady but resolute. “We need to figure out who they are and what they know. But we approach carefully—no sudden moves.”

Bellamy nodded reluctantly, his eyes still scanning the clearing. “Fine,” he said. “But I’m not letting my guard down.”

Clarke took a deep breath, her nerves jangling as she prepared to step out of their hiding spot. Whatever awaited them in this strange community, it was time to find out.

As Raven moved to follow Clarke and the others, her footsteps crunching softly against the forest floor, a young boy spotted her. His eyes widened in fear as he pointed directly at her. “Disciple!” the boy shouted, his voice high and panicked.

The sound echoed through the clearing, and suddenly, more children joined in, their frightened cries ringing out. “Disciple! Disciple!”

Raven froze, her heart pounding as the screams filled the air. She raised her hands instinctively, trying to appear non-threatening, but before she could say anything, a figure moved swiftly behind her. A woman, tall and strong, appeared from the shadows, her face hardened with suspicion. She carried a knife, its blade glinting in the light, and without hesitation, she struck.

The blade sliced across Raven’s back, tearing through her suit and leaving a shallow but painful wound. Raven stumbled forward with a sharp cry, her hand reaching behind her as she fell to her knees.

“Stop!” Clarke’s voice rang out, sharp and commanding. She stepped forward from the bushes, her hands raised high in the air. “Stop! We’re not disciples! Please, don’t hurt her!”

The woman froze mid-strike, her knife still poised in the air as she turned toward Clarke, her expression dark and untrusting. Around her, more adults began to emerge from the cabins and surrounding woods, some armed with tools or makeshift weapons. They surrounded Raven, their faces hard but laced with fear.

Bellamy stepped out beside Clarke, his hands raised as well. “We’re not disciples,” he said firmly, his voice steady despite the tension in the air. “We’re not here to hurt anyone.”

The woman narrowed her eyes, her grip tightening on the knife. “Then why is she wearing their tech?” she demanded, pointing at Raven’s helmet with the blade.

Clarke’s head snapped toward the sound of Octavia’s voice echoing through the tense clearing. Relief flooded her as she saw Octavia stepping out of the woods, her hands raised to show she meant no harm. “They’re with us,” Octavia called out, her voice strong and steady.

Clarke noticed the way the woman with the knife straightened at the sight of Octavia, her expression softening ever so slightly. “Octavia?” the woman said cautiously, lowering her weapon further. 

“Vera,” Octavia said, stepping closer with confidence. Gabriel and Miller appeared behind her, their eyes scanning the group. They aren’t disciples. You can trust us.”

Clarke turned to Octavia, her brow furrowed with curiosity and uncertainty. “You know her?” she asked, her voice low but firm as she gestured toward Vera, who was now stepping back toward the group of locals.

Octavia nodded, her expression thoughtful, almost as if pieces of a puzzle were falling into place. “Yeah,” she said slowly, glancing at the group before turning her attention back to Clarke. “I remember now.”

Clarke’s eyes widened slightly, and she exchanged a quick glance with Bellamy, who was standing nearby, his brow furrowed with both relief and suspicion. “What do you mean you remember?” Clarke pressed.

Octavia looked at Vera, then back at the group, her voice steady but tinged with awe. “Welcome to Skyring,” she said, her words hanging heavy in the air.

The group exchanged glances, their expressions a mix of confusion and unease. Clarke’s stomach twisted as she processed Octavia’s revelation. If Octavia had lived here before, what else was this planet hiding?

Clarke’s heart sank, her grip tightening on her gun. Whatever this planet was, it was clear that Skyring held secrets—and dangers—they were only beginning to uncover.

–

Vera led the group back to her cabin, a small but welcoming space nestled among the futuristic structures of Skyring. The interior was warm and inviting, with a crackling fireplace casting a golden glow across the room. The furniture was simple but well-crafted, and the scent of herbs and spices lingered faintly in the air.

Vera motioned for everyone to sit, gesturing toward the mismatched chairs and cushions arranged around a low wooden table. “Make yourselves comfortable,” she said softly, her tone carrying genuine remorse. “And… I want to apologize again for hurting your friend. She will be in good hands at our infirmary” 

Vera gave her a faint smile before turning to the rest of the group. “Would anyone like a cup of tea?” she asked, reaching for a clay pot sitting on a metal rack near the fireplace. She poured steaming liquid into a mug, the scent of chamomile and honey filling the room.

Clarke exchanged a glance with Bellamy before nodding cautiously. “Sure,” she said, her voice neutral but polite. “Thank you.”

Vera handed Clarke the mug before pouring another for herself. “It’s an old recipe we’ve kept alive for generations,” she said, settling into a chair across from them. “There’s not much else to do during the long nights here, so we’ve learned to appreciate the little things.”

Octavia took a seat near the fireplace, her eyes scanning the room as if trying to piece together fragments of her memories. “This place… it’s different,” she murmured, almost to herself. “I remember the tea. And the fire. It feels like…” She trailed off, shaking her head.

Vera’s expression softened as she looked at Octavia. “You were part of our family here,” she said gently. “Even if it was only for a short time.”

The group fell silent for a moment, the weight of Octavia’s memories and Vera’s words settling over them. Bellamy shifted in his seat, his brow furrowed. “We appreciate the hospitality,” he said finally. “But we need answers. What can you tell us about Skyring—and how we get off this planet?”

Vera set her mug down, her gaze flickering between the group as she explained, “The anomaly isn’t in the woods or the mountains—it’s at the bottom of the lake. But it’s too deep for anyone to reach without succumbing to the water pressure. That’s why no one’s left this place… unless you can figure out to activate the anomaly stone.

 Clarke furrowed her brow, her mind racing. “You’re saying there’s an anomaly stone here?”

Vera nodded slowly. “Perhaps. If you can figure out how to activate it properly, it might give you a chance. But understand, it’s not just about getting the stone to work. You’ll need to be careful. The anomaly isn’t something to be trifled with.”

Bellamy leaned forward, his arms resting on his knees as he turned his attention to Octavia. “You remember this place,” he said, his tone a mix of curiosity and concern. “How?”

Octavia hesitated for a moment, her eyes darting toward Vera before settling on Bellamy. “On Sanctum,” she began, her voice steady but laced with emotion, “I followed Diyoza into the anomaly. I didn’t know what would happen—I just knew I had to find her.”

Bellamy’s brow furrowed, his jaw tightening. “And you ended up here?”

Octavia nodded. “Yeah. Diyoza… she had her baby here. Hope. We were stuck here together, and with time moving differently, years passed for us while only seconds passed back on Sanctum.” She paused, her gaze softening as she looked toward Hope. “We raised her together. She became my family.”

Hope frowned, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of her sleeve as she sat beside Octavia. “I still can’t remember,” she said softly, her voice tinged with frustration and sadness. “It’s like… it’s all just gone.”

Octavia leaned closer, placing a reassuring hand on Hope’s shoulder. “You’ll remember,” she said with a soft smile. “It might take time, but it’ll come back to you. Welcome home, little one.”

Hope’s eyes glistened as she looked at Octavia, her lips trembling slightly before she nodded. The words seemed to bring her a small measure of comfort, though Bellamy’s expression across the room was a mix of confusion and unease.

Bellamy crossed his arms, his brow furrowing as he looked between Octavia and Vera. “I don’t get it,” he said. “You’re calling this place home like it’s a good thing, but it’s also a prison. And you—” He pointed at Octavia. “You’ve been here for years? Raising Hope with Diyoza? What the hell happened to you?”

Octavia sighed, her patience wavering. “There’s a lot we need to talk about,” she admitted, her tone calm but firm. “I’ll explain everything, Bell, but not right now. Just… give me some time.”

Before Bellamy could respond, Vera cleared her throat, drawing everyone’s attention. “Our Prime Minster has agreed to let you stay in our camp,” she said, her voice steady but kind. “He will meet with you tomorrow to discuss everything in more detail. For now, we’ve prepared temporary cabins where you can rest.”

Clarke glanced at Vera, her suspicion lingering but tempered by exhaustion. “Thank you,” she said cautiously. “We appreciate that.”

Vera nodded. “You’re strangers here, but Octavia’s vouching for you goes a long way. You’ll be safe tonight—just follow the rules, and everything will be fine.”

Bellamy raised an eyebrow. “What kind of rules?”

Vera smiled faintly, though there was a seriousness in her tone. “No weapons inside the camp unless explicitly allowed. Respect the curfew and stay within the marked boundaries. That’s all—for now.”

The group exchanged glances, the weight of the situation pressing down on them. Clarke looked to Octavia, who gave her a small nod of reassurance.

“Let’s get some rest,” Clarke finally said, her voice quiet but steady. “We’ll figure this out tomorrow.”

As Vera led them to their cabins, Bellamy fell into step beside Octavia. “A lot to talk about, huh?” he muttered.

Octavia shot him a sideways glance. “Yeah,” she said simply, her voice laced with a mixture of guilt and resolve. “A lot.”

Bellamy paced the small cabin, his arms crossed tightly over his chest, his mind clearly racing. “I mean, think about it, Clarke,” he said, his voice filled with disbelief. “Octavia… raising Hope with Diyoza? Here? On this planet? For years? How does something like that even happen?”

Clarke, already exhausted from the day’s events, sighed as she finished smoothing out the covers on the bed. She slipped into the soft nightgown that Vera had provided, feeling strange in the unfamiliar garment. “Time works differently here,” she reminded him gently, sitting on the edge of the bed. “You heard Octavia. It was only seconds on Sanctum, but here, it was years.”

Bellamy shook his head, his pacing slowing as he tried to wrap his mind around it. “I just… I can’t believe it. She raised a kid here, Clarke. My sister raised a kid. That’s—” He paused, rubbing the back of his neck. “That’s crazy.”

Clarke gave him a small, tired smile as she pulled the covers back on the bed. “It is,” she admitted. “But it’s not the craziest thing we’ve been through.”

Bellamy shot her a look, his lips twitching into the faintest smirk. “Yeah, I guess you’ve got a point there.”

Clarke lay down, propping herself up on her elbow as she looked at him. “You’re worried about her, aren’t you?” she asked softly.

Bellamy stopped pacing, his expression softening. “Yeah,” he admitted. “She’s been through so much already, and now this? I just… I feel like I don’t even know her anymore. I’ve missed so much.”

Clarke reached out, her hand brushing against his arm as he stood near the bed. “She’s still your sister,” she said gently. “And she’s been through a lot, but she’s still Octavia. You’ll get through this together.”

Bellamy sighed, sitting down on the edge of the bed beside her. “I just wish I understood,” he said, his voice quieter now. “What happened to her here. What it was really like.”

Clarke looked at him for a moment before offering a faint smile. “You’ll get your answers, Bellamy,” she said. “But for now, we need to rest. Tomorrow’s going to be another long day.”

He nodded reluctantly, standing up to grab a blanket from the chair near the corner of the room. “You take the bed,” he said, motioning to the blanket. “I’ll sleep on the floor.”

Clarke frowned, shaking her head. “Don’t be ridiculous,” she said. “This bed is big enough for both of us. We’ve shared tighter spaces before.”

Bellamy hesitated for a moment before nodding. “Alright,” he said, pulling off his boots and settling on the other side of the bed. As he lay down beside her, he stared up at the ceiling, his mind still racing.

Clarke turned off the small light by the bed, the soft glow of the moon filtering in through the window. “Get some sleep, Bellamy,” she said softly. “We’ll figure it out.”

He sighed, his voice quiet in the darkness. “Thanks, Clarke.”

And with that, the two of them lay in silence, the weight of the day pressing down on them as sleep slowly overtook their restless minds.

–

The next morning, Vera led the group through the winding paths of Skyring’s settlement, past the futuristic cabins and neatly tended gardens. The air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of woodsmoke and the sound of distant laughter from the children. Despite the beauty of the place, Clarke couldn’t shake the feeling that they were still walking on a tightrope, unsure of what awaited them.

As they approached a larger, more reinforced structure, Vera turned to them. “The Prime Minister is expecting us,” she said. “He’s fair, but don’t mistake his generosity for weakness. He’s a leader first.”

Clarke exchanged a glance with Bellamy, both silently agreeing to tread carefully. Octavia, however, looked more composed than Clarke had expected.

As they stepped inside, they found themselves in what appeared to be a meeting hall, its wooden beams reinforced with sleek metallic panels. At the center of the room stood a tall man with sharp, observant eyes, dressed in a fitted dark tunic with intricate designs that seemed symbolic of his rank. His posture was confident, radiating both authority and experience.

The Prime Minister studied the group for a moment before his gaze landed on Octavia. A flicker of recognition crossed his features, and he nodded. “Octavia Blake,” he said, his voice deep and steady. “It’s been a long time.”

Octavia nodded in return, her stance firm but respectful. “Prime Minister Ren,” she greeted. “It has.”

His eyes then shifted toward Hope, widening slightly as realization dawned on him. “And Hope,” he murmured, almost in disbelief. “You’ve grown.”

Hope hesitated for a second, unsure of how to respond, before offering a small nod. “I don’t remember much,” she admitted quietly.

Prime Minister Ren’s expression softened, but only slightly. “That is not unexpected,” he said. “Time on Skyring is… complicated.” Then, his gaze swept over the rest of the group, his tone returning to its authoritative edge. “Vera has told me of your arrival. You have brought unknowns to our world, including technology linked to our enemies. Tell me, Octavia—why are they here?”

Octavia took a step forward, squaring her shoulders. “We didn’t come here by choice,” she said. “We came through the anomaly by accident, and now we’re trying to get to Bardo. Diyoza is there, and we need to get her back.”

Ren studied her for a long moment before glancing at Clarke and Bellamy, measuring them. “Bardo,” he repeated. “You seek to go to war with the Disciples?”

Clarke stepped forward now, her voice steady. “We seek to end it,” she clarified. “The Disciples have taken people we care about. We just want to bring them home.”

Ren sighed, his sharp eyes unreadable. “The last war,” he mused. “You have no idea the weight of what you’re stepping into.”

Bellamy’s jaw tightened. “Then help us understand,” he said firmly.

Ren considered them for a moment before nodding slightly. “Very well,” he said. “But understand this—Skyring is a sanctuary, and I will not risk my people for your war. I will give you shelter for now, but if you bring trouble here, you will face the consequences.”

Clarke nodded. “We don’t want to bring trouble,” she assured him. “We just need to find a way to get to the anomaly.”

Ren folded his arms across his chest, his expression unwavering. “The only way off this planet is through the anomaly stone,” he confirmed. “Anything else is suicide.”

Clarke frowned, glancing at Octavia. “You got here by going into the anomaly on Sanctum,” she pointed out. “Wouldn’t swimming down to the bottom of the lake take us back the same way?”

Octavia let out a long sigh, shaking her head. “I tried,” she admitted, her frustration evident. “More times than I can count. It’s too deep. No matter how hard I pushed myself, I couldn’t get close.”

Raven stepped forward, still clutching her helmet as she analyzed the situation. “From what I scanned,” she said, “the pressure at the bottom of that lake is way too intense. Even if you could hold your breath long enough, your body wouldn’t make it. It would crush your lungs before you even got close.”

Clarke clenched her jaw, processing the information. “So we need another way,” she murmured.

Ren nodded. “Yes,” he said. “And your only option is the anomaly stone.”

Bellamy exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “Great,” he muttered. “And let me guess—it’s not that simple.”

Ren smirked faintly. “Nothing ever is,” he said. “The stone is a tool, but you still need the right coordinates to open a portal. Without them, you could end up anywhere.”

Raven huffed, shaking her head. “We need to access the helmet’s interface again,” she said. “If I can get it fully functional, I might be able to reconfigure the anomaly stone to take us to Bardo.”

Clarke nodded, determination settling in her chest. “Then that’s what we do,” she said. “We find the stone, Raven figures out the coordinates, and we get the hell off this planet.”

Octavia stepped forward, her expression grim. “Ren,” she said, her voice low but firm, “the Disciples finally found the Key and the Source.”

For the first time since they arrived, Ren’s composure wavered. His eyes widened slightly, his jaw tightening as if the weight of those words hit him like a physical blow. “It’s happening,” he murmured, almost to himself. He took a deep breath, his fists clenching at his sides. “After all these years… they actually found it.”

Clarke’s stomach twisted. She wasn’t sure she wanted to ask, but she had to. “What does that mean?” she asked.

Ren looked at her, his gaze sharp, as if seeing her in a new light. “It means,” he said slowly, “that everything we feared is now set in motion. The Disciples have spent generations searching for the Key—the one who will supposedly unlock their final war.” His eyes flicked between Clarke and Bellamy, as if weighing them against what he knew. “And now, they’ve found you.”

Bellamy’s shoulders tensed. “We don’t believe in their war,” he said. “We just want to get to Bardo, get our people, and leave.”

Ren let out a dry, humorless laugh. “You think they care what you want?” He shook his head. “The fact that you exist in their eyes is enough. They believe their prophecy is real. And now that they’ve found you, they will stop at nothing to fulfill it.”

Clarke swallowed hard. She had spent so much time fighting for survival, for her people, for peace—but never had she imagined she’d be at the center of something like this.

Octavia crossed her arms. “So what do we do?” she asked. “How do we stop them?”

Ren exhaled, his expression hardening. “You don’t,” he said. “Not yet. Right now, your only priority is getting off this planet. Because if they come here looking for you…” He glanced toward the entrance of the hall, his jaw tightening. “Skyring won’t be a sanctuary anymore.”

Clarke nodded, her mind racing. “Then we find the anomaly stone. We figure out the coordinates. And we leave before it’s too late.”

Ren turned his gaze toward Raven, his expression softening slightly. “Before anything else, I want to apologize again for what happened earlier,” he said sincerely. “You were attacked because of fear, and while I understand my people’s caution, you didn’t deserve that.”

Raven, still nursing the soreness in her back, shrugged slightly, though there was a small smirk on her face. “I’ve been through worse,” she muttered, but there was no real bitterness in her tone.

Ren nodded. “Even so, I’d like to make it right. Tonight, before you leave, I want to offer you all a proper dinner. A chance to rest, even if it’s brief. You deserve to know what Skyring truly is—not just the myths or fears surrounding it.” His gaze swept across the group, landing on Octavia for a moment. “You deserve to know its real history.”

Clarke and Bellamy exchanged a look. It wasn’t ideal—they needed to move quickly—but at the same time, gathering knowledge about Skyring could prove useful. And they couldn’t afford to leave without at least understanding what they might be walking into.

Clarke nodded slowly. “Alright,” she said. “We’ll take you up on that.”

Ren exhaled, something like relief flickering across his face. “Good,” he said. “I’ll arrange for a proper meal. In the meantime, you’re free to explore the village. Get to know the place before you decide to leave it behind.”

Octavia gave him a small smirk. “I think we all know where I’ll be.”

Ren chuckled. “Go see your family,” he said, his voice warm but still carrying the weight of everything happening. “You’ve earned that.”

As they left the meeting hall, Clarke took a deep breath, letting herself take in the strange peace of Skyring. It wouldn’t last—not with the Disciples coming. But for now, they had one night to understand this world before heading toward the unknown.

–

Clarke, Raven, Gabriel, and Jordan followed Vera through the winding paths of Skyring’s village. The futuristic cabins reflected the golden light of the late afternoon sun, blending seamlessly with the nature around them. Despite the looming threat of the Disciples, Clarke couldn’t help but take in the way the people here lived—self-sufficient, seemingly at peace, yet always watching over their shoulders.

Raven adjusted the suit, securing it tightly as she held the helmet under her arm. “This thing still fits like a glove,” she muttered, her tone neutral, though Clarke could tell she was still thinking about Ren’s apology earlier.

“You sure it’s functioning properly after everything?” Gabriel asked, his curiosity evident.

Raven smirked slightly. “You doubt my skills, Doc?” She tapped a button on her wrist and the HUD inside the helmet flickered to life. “It’s running diagnostics now. But yeah, we should be good.”

The tension in the air thickened as the woman, standing stiffly with her arms crossed, fixed her dark stare on Raven. The hostility in her expression made Clarke uneasy, and she wasn’t the only one who noticed. Gabriel, who had been exchanging quiet words with Raven, also picked up on it, his smirk fading slightly as he glanced at Clarke.

Vera hesitated, clearly sensing the tension as well, before clearing her throat and continuing the introductions. “This is Mara,” she said, gesturing toward the woman. “She’s been part of Skyring’s community for decades.”

Mara didn’t acknowledge the introduction. Instead, her sharp gaze remained locked onto Raven. “I won’t let my family be taken because of her,” she said coldly, her voice sharp enough to cut through the quiet murmur of the village around them.

Raven stiffened, gripping her helmet tighter. “Look, we mean no harm,” she said, keeping her tone measured. “We’ll be leaving shortly, so whatever it is you’re worried about, don’t be.”

Mara’s jaw tightened. “That’s easy for you to say,” she bit out. “You show up here, wearing their technology, and you expect us to just sit back and wait for them to come? You might not be a Disciple, but you’re bringing them here, whether you want to or not.”

The crowd around them shifted, a few villagers exchanging nervous glances. Clarke immediately recognized the danger in the situation—fear was taking hold, and fear made people unpredictable.

“Mara,” Vera said sharply, stepping forward. “That’s enough.”

Mara didn’t look at her, her glare still fixed on Raven. “You don’t get to decide what’s enough,” she said. “Not when our families are at risk.”

Clarke saw the shift happen in an instant—the way Mara’s expression hardened with resolve before she made her move.

The sharp crack of the helmet hitting the ground echoed through the clearing. The glass and metal shattered into pieces, scattering across the dirt.

For a moment, there was silence.

Then, Raven lost it.

“No, no, no, no—” she choked out, dropping to her knees as she scrambled to pick up the broken fragments. Her hands trembled as she held the largest shard, her breathing uneven. “You broke it,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “You idiot, do you even understand what you just did?!”

Clarke’s heart dropped. The weight of their reality came crashing down—without the helmet, they had nothing. No way to activate the anomaly stone, no way to leave. They were trapped.

Gabriel and Jordan stood still, their faces grim. Jordan’s hands clenched at his sides, his eyes flickering with barely contained panic. Gabriel exhaled sharply, his head tilting downward as if he were already accepting their fate.

Mara, the woman who had smashed the helmet, didn’t flinch at Raven’s reaction. Her face remained cold, determined. “I did what needed to be done,” she said evenly.

Raven shot to her feet, her hands balled into fists. “Are you insane?!” she shouted. “That was our only way off this rock!”

Mara lifted her chin, her expression unwavering. “If you’re stuck here, the Disciples won’t be able to use you,” she said simply. “And that keeps my family safe.”

Raven clenched her jaw. “That’s not how this works,” she snapped. “They’re not coming because we want them to—they’re coming because they believe we’re part of their war. And destroying our tech doesn’t change that.”

Vera, who had been silent until now, stepped forward, her eyes flashing with barely restrained fury. “Mara,” she said, her voice dangerously low, “we do not exile people here. But what you just did? That was reckless. And stupid.”

Mara’s face flickered with something—uncertainty, guilt—but she didn’t back down. “You don’t get to make this decision for all of us, Vera,” she said.

Vera’s jaw tightened. “You just did.”

Raven let out a humorless laugh, shaking her head in disbelief. “Unbelievable,” she muttered, running a hand through her hair. “You just screwed all of us.”

Vera turned to Raven, her anger shifting into something softer. “I’m sorry,” she said genuinely. “I swear, this isn’t what we stand for.”

Raven huffed, crossing her arms. “Yeah? Well, good intentions don’t fix my helmet.”

Clarke stood frozen, staring at the shattered remains of the helmet, her vision blurring as tears welled up in her eyes.

They weren’t getting off this planet.

She wasn’t going back to Madi. To their people.

A crushing weight settled onto her chest, making it hard to breathe. The world around her seemed to dim, the sound of Raven’s angry shouting and Vera’s scolding voice fading into the background. The only thing that rang through Clarke’s mind was the simple, terrifying truth—they were trapped.

Chapter Text

The meeting hall was dimly lit, Clarke walked in with Vera, her steps heavy, her mind still racing with the weight of their situation.

Bellamy was the first to notice her hesitation. He took a step forward, his brow furrowed in concern. “Clarke,” he said carefully, “what happened?”

She stopped just inside the hall, unable to answer. Her throat felt tight, the words stuck somewhere between anger and despair. Instead, she simply stepped aside, and Raven, with a cold glare, placed the broken helmet onto the wooden table at the center of the room.

The silence was deafening.

Octavia frowned, her eyes darting between Clarke and the shattered remains of the helmet. Bellamy ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply, already knowing what this meant.

Raven was the one to finally break the silence. “Your people did this,” she said to Ren, her voice sharp with fury. “One of your people destroyed the only way we had to fix the anomaly stone.”

Ren, standing tall at the head of the room, barely flinched, though his jaw tightened. He looked from Raven to Clarke, then at Vera, his sharp eyes demanding an explanation.

Vera sighed, rubbing her temples before speaking. “Mara,” she admitted. “She was afraid. She thought keeping them trapped here would protect us.”

A murmur rippled through the gathered villagers. Some exchanged worried glances, while others muttered among themselves.

Bellamy clenched his fists at his sides, shaking his head. “So let me get this straight,” he said, his voice laced with frustration. “Your people were scared, so their big plan was to trap us here instead? Like that’s gonna stop the Disciples?”

Ren’s gaze darkened, his face unreadable. “Fear makes people reckless,” he admitted, his voice level. “But that doesn’t mean I condone this.”

Raven scoffed. “Well, that’s great,” she said sarcastically, “but condoning doesn’t put my helmet back together, does it?”

Hope stood frozen, staring at the shattered helmet on the table, her lips barely moving as she whispered, “No…” It was quiet, but the weight of it hit harder than anything else.

Gabriel exhaled sharply, trying to think past the sinking feeling in his gut. “We need another solution,” he said, his voice measured but urgent. “The anomaly stone is still intact—there has to be another way.”

But Raven wasn’t having it. She snapped her head toward him, her face flushed with frustration. “There isn’t!” she shouted, her voice cracking. “That was it! That was our only shot! Do you get that? There’s no other way to activate the stone without knowing the right sequence! And guess what? That helmet was the only thing that could’ve told us!”

Octavia sighed, crossing her arms. “Then there’s nothing we can do now,” she muttered, shaking her head. “We’re stuck.”

The room felt suffocating with those words. Clarke swallowed hard, her fingers gripping the edge of the table as she tried to keep herself from unraveling completely. They were so close—so close to getting to Bardo, to getting Diyoza back, to getting home.

Hope’s breath hitched, and her voice trembled as she finally spoke up. “So that’s it?” she whispered, her wide eyes darting between them all. “We just give up?”

Raven turned away, rubbing her hands over her face as she tried to keep her emotions in check. “I don’t want to give up,” she admitted, her voice quieter but still strained. “But I don’t see another option.”

Silence fell over the room, thick with tension, thick with the reality they were now facing. Clarke felt Bellamy’s gaze on her, but she couldn’t meet his eyes—not when she felt like she was drowning.

Hope’s breath hitched, and before anyone could stop her, she bolted from the room.

“Hope—!” Octavia called after her, sighing in frustration as she ran out to follow.

Clarke stared after them for a long moment, her mind spinning with unanswered questions. Everything felt like it was slipping through their fingers. But one question burned in her mind—if they were truly trapped here, then how did Diyoza and Octavia leave in the first place?

Clarke’s mind raced as she processed what Ren had just said. The Disciples took them. That meant there was a way off this planet—but not one they could control.

She turned to Ren, her voice urgent. “You said the Disciples took your people. For research. What does that mean exactly?”

Ren exhaled slowly, his expression grim. “It means they’ve been coming here for years, scouting, searching. They take those they find valuable—leaders, fighters, the strongest among us.” His gaze flickered toward the door where Octavia had left after Hope. “Some of our people were never seen again. Some… returned, but they were never the same.”

Gabriel’s expression darkened. “Brainwashing,” he muttered. “Reprogramming.”

Clarke swallowed hard. “But they didn’t just take anyone. They took Octavia. They took Diyoza.”

Ren nodded. “Diyoza was a warrior. She fought them. That made her valuable.” He hesitated before adding, “Octavia as well.”

Clarke’s jaw tightened. “And now they want me and Bellamy.”

Bellamy, who had been listening quietly, finally spoke up. “If they’ve done this before, then we need to figure out how they did it. They got off this planet using something. A suit, coordinates, something.”

Raven, still visibly seething over the helmet, scoffed. “Great. So all we need is a Disciple to waltz in here and hand us their tech.”

Vera, who had been listening closely, finally stepped forward. “That might not be as impossible as you think,” she said carefully.

Clarke turned to her sharply. “What do you mean?”

Vera glanced at Ren before explaining. “One of our own was taken. And she came back.”

Silence fell over the group.

Bellamy’s brow furrowed. “Someone escaped?”

Ren’s face was unreadable. “Not exactly,” he admitted. “She was returned.”

Clarke’s heart pounded. “Where is she?”

Vera hesitated. “She lives on the outskirts of the village,” she said. “Keeps to herself. She never speaks about what happened to her. But if anyone knows how the Disciples operate, how they use the anomaly stone… it’s her.”

Clarke exchanged a glance with Bellamy. There was no question about what needed to happen next.

Raven crossed her arms, her mind already working through the possibilities. “How often do the Disciples come?” she asked, her voice sharp with urgency.

Ren exhaled, glancing at Vera before answering. “Every six years,” he said. “They come in small groups. Sometimes just a few soldiers, sometimes more. They scout, they take who they need, and then they leave.”

Raven’s lips parted slightly, and for the first time since the helmet was smashed, a flicker of hope flashed in her eyes. “Six years,” she repeated, nodding slowly. “That means there’s a schedule. A pattern.”

Bellamy frowned. “What are you thinking?”

Raven turned to him, the gears in her mind turning fast. “I’m thinking we can steal one of their suits the next time they come.” She looked around the room, her intensity growing. “If they need the suits to travel between planets, then all we have to do is get our hands on one of them. I can hack it, figure out the coordinates, and boom—we’re off this rock.”

Clarke’s heart raced. “Raven, that’s a hell of a risk.”

Raven shot her a look. “You got a better plan?”

Clarke exhaled sharply, glancing at Ren. “How long ago was the last time they came?”

Ren hesitated. “A couple of months.”

Clarke took a deep breath, her fingers tightening into fists. “Raven,” she said carefully, “even if we do steal a suit… we’re stuck here for six years before we even get the chance.”

Raven’s smirk faltered slightly, but her determination remained. “So? We just have to be ready when they show up.”

Ren, standing off to the side, crossed his arms. “That’s how long Octavia was here for,” he reminded them. “That’s how long Diyoza was here for. Skyring isn’t a bad place, but make no mistake—it is a prison.”

Clarke glanced at Octavia, who had just returned from checking on Hope. Octavia’s face was unreadable, but the tension in her shoulders spoke volumes.

“I’m not waiting six years,” Bellamy said bluntly. “We need to find another way.”

Clarke exhaled, rubbing her forehead. “Ren, you said the Disciples take people every six years. But do they always come on schedule? Have they ever come early?”

Ren hesitated before nodding. “Once,” he admitted. “Years ago, before Octavia arrived. They came five years into the cycle instead of six.”

Gabriel perked up. “So the schedule isn’t perfect.”

Clarke latched onto that. “Which means they could come sooner than expected.”

Raven nodded, hope creeping back into her voice. “Then we prepare now,” she said. “If we’re lucky, we won’t be waiting six years.”

Bellamy shook his head, crossing his arms. “This is insane,” he muttered. “You’re talking about waiting years for a chance that might not even come.”

Gabriel, however, was nodding, considering the plan. “It’s not as crazy as it sounds,” he countered. “If we can study the Disciples’ patterns, figure out their approach, we can prepare instead of walking blindly into a fight.”

Bellamy scoffed, gesturing around them. “Prepare for what? To steal a suit off a highly trained soldier? And what if they come with a whole damn army instead of a scouting team? We could be walking into a slaughter.”

Raven rolled her eyes. “Wow, Bellamy, I didn’t realize you were the pessimist now.”

“I’m a realist,” he shot back. “We have no idea if they’ll even come early, and you want us to sit around and hope we get lucky?”

Clarke stepped between them before the tension could escalate further. “We don’t have another option,” she said firmly. “The anomaly stone is useless without the right coordinates. We need one of their suits, and the only way to get one is to wait for them.”

Bellamy exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “Waiting six years isn’t a plan, Clarke. It’s a prison sentence.”

Gabriel folded his arms. “It’s survival. And it’s strategy. If we rush into this without thinking, we die. If we wait, if we plan, we win.”

Jordan sighed, shaking his head. “We don’t have another choice,” he said, his voice quiet but firm. “Like it or not, this is it.”

Bellamy let out a frustrated breath, running a hand over his face. “And what if we’re stuck here for six years? We don’t even know how much time will have passed on Sanctum when we finally get back.” His jaw tightened, the weight of their situation pressing down on him. “Madi… Gaia… Murphy and Emori. What if we come back and it’s been decades?”

Gabriel, who had been listening carefully, finally spoke. “That might not be the case,” he said, adjusting his glasses. “When Octavia went into the anomaly and came back out on Sanctum, she was gone for years. But to us? It was thirty seconds.”

Clarke’s eyes widened slightly as she absorbed that. “Time dilation,” she murmured.

Gabriel nodded. “Exactly. We don’t know how time works here versus Sanctum. If we’re here for six years, it could be minutes back home—or it could be the opposite.”

Bellamy clenched his jaw, clearly struggling with the uncertainty of it all. “That’s a big gamble.”

“It’s the only one we have,” Gabriel said simply.

Vera exhaled, stepping forward as the discussion grew more tense. “There’s something else you should know,” she said carefully. “Skyring orbits somewhat close to a black hole.”

The room fell silent.

Clarke’s heart skipped a beat. “A black hole?” she repeated.

Vera nodded. “Not close enough to destroy us, but close enough that it affects time.” She gestured around the room. “That’s why time moves differently here than on Sanctum or Bardo. It’s not just an anomaly—it’s gravitational time dilation.”

Gabriel’s face lit up with understanding, his scientific mind already catching up. “That makes sense,” he muttered to himself. “A strong enough gravitational field would drastically alter the passage of time.” He turned to the others. “That means six years here could be minutes or hours on Sanctum. Maybe a few days at most.”

Bellamy exhaled, rubbing his forehead. “So what you’re saying is, we could be here for years and when we finally get back, nothing’s changed?”

“Or,” Jordan added hesitantly, “we could be here for days and when we get back… everyone we know is gone.”

Clarke’s stomach twisted at the thought. “We don’t know for sure,” she said, trying to keep herself from spiraling. “But if Octavia was gone for years here and it was only seconds on Sanctum, then it’s likely that time is moving faster for us than it is for them.”

Gabriel nodded in agreement. “Which means the sooner we figure out a way off this planet, the less time will pass back home.”

Raven huffed, shaking her head. “Great. So no pressure.”

Bellamy crossed his arms, still looking troubled. “So what if we don’t get out of here before they come back? What if six years pass here, but it’s only days on Sanctum? What if—”

“We don’t think like that,” Clarke cut him off, her voice sharp with determination. “We will get out of here. We will get back to Madi and everyone else.”

Bellamy studied her for a long moment before sighing. “Alright,” he muttered. “Then let’s figure this out before we waste years here.”

Vera gave them all a firm nod. “Then we start preparing. The Disciples will return. And when they do, you need to be ready.”

Because if time was against them, then they needed to make every second count.

–

Later that day, Vera led Clarke, Bellamy, Raven, and Gabriel through the outskirts of the village. The air was crisp, the sky an eerie shade of blue as the sun hung low. The futuristic cabins gave way to more isolated dwellings, simpler and built deeper into the forest.

“She lives out here alone,” Vera explained as they walked. “Ever since she was returned, she’s kept her distance. Some believe she’s still one of them, that she was left here to watch us.”

Clarke frowned. “And you don’t?”

Vera hesitated. “I believe she’s a victim, just like the others they took. But she was one of them—trained, conditioned. And we don’t know what that means for us.”

As they approached a small wooden hut, Vera slowed, turning to face them. “She might not be welcoming,” she warned. “She rarely speaks, and when she does, it’s… cryptic.”

Bellamy exchanged a glance with Clarke before stepping up to the door. He knocked twice. The sound echoed in the stillness.

For a moment, nothing happened. Then, the door creaked open.

An older woman stood in the doorway, her hair long and streaked with gray, her eyes sharp despite the wrinkles lining her face. She was thin but not frail, and she studied them with an unreadable expression.

Vera took a small step forward. “Elder Vika,” she said softly.

Gabriel, ever the scientist, took a careful step forward. “You were with the Disciples,” he said, watching her reaction. “You were one of them.”

Vika’s gaze didn’t waver. “I was made into one of them,” she corrected. Her voice was soft, but there was a weight to it. A memory of something lost.

Clarke swallowed hard. “Then you know how we can leave.”

Vika tilted her head. “Leaving is not the hard part.”

Raven frowned. “What’s the hard part, then?”

Vika’s expression remained unreadable. “Surviving what comes after.”

The silence that followed was thick, heavy with unspoken truths.

Bellamy clenched his jaw. “We don’t have time for riddles,” he said firmly. “We need to know how the Disciples move between planets. How do they activate the anomaly stone?”

Vika studied him for a long moment before stepping aside, opening the door wider. “Come in,” she said quietly. “There are things you must understand before you try to leave this place.”

As the elder, Vika, welcomed them into her small cabin, the warmth of the fireplace contrasted against the eerie stillness of the space. The scent of burning wood mixed with something faintly herbal, and as she moved toward a worn chair, she reached over to turn on a small lamp in the corner. The dim glow cast flickering shadows along the wooden walls, making the moment feel even heavier.

She gestured for them to sit. Clarke and Bellamy took seats on a simple wooden bench, while Raven leaned against the table, arms crossed. Gabriel remained standing, too intrigued to relax.

Vika folded her hands in her lap and exhaled slowly, as if gathering her thoughts. Then, she spoke.

“Skyring does Bardo’s dirty work,” she said plainly, her voice low but deliberate. “To keep the peace.”

Clarke frowned. “What do you mean?”

Vika’s gaze was sharp, almost pitying. “Every six years, the Disciples send people here. The ones who won’t follow the prophecy. The ones who refuse to submit. Instead of executing them, they send them here—a prison in disguise.” She looked between them. “And we take care of them.”

Bellamy stiffened. “You help them?”

Vika nodded. “We heal them. Feed them. Give them time to reconsider. Some hold onto their defiance, but most…” She trailed off, her eyes darkening. “Most don’t. When the next six-year cycle comes, they are taken back. And those who convert are given a second chance on Bardo. Those who don’t… are never seen again.”

A heavy silence filled the room.

Raven scoffed, shaking her head. “So this place is just a rehabilitation center for brainwashing? Are you kidding me?”

Gabriel’s brows furrowed in thought. “That explains how they maintain their numbers. They don’t just kill dissenters. They try to break them first.”

Clarke inhaled sharply, her heart pounding. “That’s how Bardo and Skyring have kept the peace after all these years.”

Vika nodded. “This cycle has lasted for generations.”

Bellamy’s fists clenched. “And no one here ever fought back?”

Vika looked him dead in the eyes. “Some did. They’re dead.”

Raven let out a frustrated breath, shaking her head. “Okay, but what I don’t get is—if Skyring is doing Bardo’s dirty work, if you’re basically running their rehabilitation program—then why do they still take your people? Why experiment on them if you’re helping them?”

Vika’s gaze darkened. “Because the Disciples don’t see us as equals,” she said simply. “They see us as useful—until we’re not.”

Clarke clenched her jaw. “So they use you to keep their prisoners alive, to make sure they’re ready to be reintegrated… but at any moment, they can decide you’re no longer valuable.”

Vika nodded. “Exactly. The Disciples are always searching for ways to make their forces stronger. New strategies, new technology, new bodies. To them, we are nothing but resources to be used however they see fit.”

Bellamy’s face hardened. “And if they think someone from Skyring might be useful for their experiments, they just take them?”

Vika’s expression remained unreadable. “They call it an offering,” she murmured. “A way to serve the greater purpose. But make no mistake—it is not a choice. It is not an honor. Those who go rarely come back.”

Gabriel frowned, his mind already working through the implications. “So they don’t just take the ones who resist. They take whoever they want, whenever they want.”

Raven crossed her arms. “So basically, you’re living under the illusion of peace, but at any second, they can just take you?”

Vika’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Yes.”

Silence filled the room.

Vika sighed, leaning back in her chair. “The Disciples don’t call this place Skyring,” she said. “To them, it’s Penance.”

The weight of the name settled over the group, heavier than before.

Gabriel frowned. “So it’s not just a prison. It’s a punishment.”

Vika nodded. “For those who fail to conform. They are sent here to suffer—to reflect, to change, or to be forgotten.” She paused, glancing between them. “But there are those who were taken from Skyring who returned. Some who know Disciple training.”

Raven perked up. “So we have people who actually know how the Disciples fight?”

Vika gave a slow nod. “Yes. They can help you prepare.”

Clarke exhaled, nodding. “Good,” she said, determination setting in. “We have six years before they come back. That’s more than enough time.”

Bellamy, still tense but now resolved, gave her a small nod. “Agreed.” He turned to the group. “We train, we plan, we win.”

He then glanced at Clarke, lowering his voice. “I’ll meet up with you later. I need to check on Octavia.”

Clarke hesitated for a brief moment, but nodded. “Go.”

As Bellamy stepped out of the cabin, Clarke turned back to the others, her mind already racing with the next steps. Six years was a long time—long enough to prepare.

–

Bellamy’s boots crunched against the dirt path as he searched the village, scanning each cabin, but there was no sign of Octavia. His frustration grew with each step. He knew she had gone after Hope when she stormed out of the meeting hall earlier, and if she wasn’t here, there was only one other place she could be.

The beach.

He followed the worn path through the trees, the sound of waves growing louder as he got closer. As he emerged from the tree line, he immediately spotted them—Octavia and Hope standing near the water, their postures tense, their voices raised.

He slowed his pace, watching as Hope clenched her fists at her sides, her face twisted in anger. “You left me,” she shouted, her voice raw. “You and my mom just—disappeared for six years! Do you have any idea what that was like? What it did to me?”

Octavia’s shoulders tensed. “Hope—”

“No!” Hope cut her off, shaking her head furiously. “I remember now. I remember everything—being here, growing up with you and my mom, thinking you were never coming back!” Her voice cracked, and she turned away, pressing the heels of her palms into her eyes.

Bellamy’s heart clenched at the pain in her voice.

Octavia took a hesitant step closer. “We didn’t want to leave you,” she said softly. “We didn’t have a choice.”

Hope let out a bitter laugh, turning back around. “There’s always a choice,” she snapped. “You two were my family, and you left me here.”

Octavia’s face twisted in guilt, but she didn’t back down. “We thought we’d be back in seconds,” she admitted. “That’s how the anomaly works, Hope. We didn’t know it would be six years for you.”

Hope scoffed, shaking her head. “And now you’re just back, like nothing happened?” Her voice broke slightly, and she took a deep breath. “You don’t get to walk in and act like you still know me.”

Bellamy knew Octavia was trying to hold it together, but he saw the way her hands clenched at her sides. “I do know you,” she said, her voice steady but pained. “You’re still my Hope. That hasn’t changed.”

Hope’s expression flickered with something Bellamy couldn’t quite place—anger, hurt, maybe even longing—but then she took a step back, shaking her head. “You don’t get to decide that,” she whispered.

Octavia looked like she wanted to argue, to fix it, but for once, she was at a loss for words.

Bellamy sighed, finally stepping forward. “Hope,” he said gently.

She stiffened at his voice, but didn’t turn around.

Bellamy glanced at Octavia, then back to Hope. “No one is pretending like nothing happened,” he told her. “But you do still have a family. And you don’t have to go through this alone.”

Hope didn’t say anything for a long moment. Then, with a sharp exhale, she muttered, “I just need some space.”

Octavia hesitated but nodded. “Okay,” she said quietly.

Hope turned, walking down the shoreline, away from them.

Bellamy watched her go before glancing at Octavia. “You okay?”

Octavia let out a dry laugh, shaking her head. “Not even a little,” she admitted.

Bellamy sighed, putting a hand on her shoulder. “She just needs time.”

Octavia swallowed hard. “I just got her back,” she whispered. “And it already feels like I’m losing her again.”

Bellamy squeezed her shoulder. “You won’t.”

Bellamy watched the waves crash gently onto the shore, his mind still reeling from everything that had just unfolded. He turned back to Octavia, his expression softer now. “What happened here?” he asked. “How did you end up on Skyring?”

Octavia exhaled, her arms crossing tightly over her chest. “After I followed Diyoza into the anomaly on Sanctum, we ended up here,” she said, glancing at the water as if it held all the memories she had buried. “At first, we thought we were alone. Just the two of us, trapped on some random moon.” She let out a short, dry chuckle. “Then we realized there was a whole civilization here.”

Bellamy’s brow furrowed as he listened.

“Diyoza gave birth to Hope,” Octavia continued, her voice softer now. “And just like that, everything changed. We weren’t just surviving anymore—we were living. We learned the ways of Skyring, we adapted. For the first time in a long time… we had peace.”

Bellamy watched as a distant look crossed her face, like she was reliving those moments—those years—all over again.

“Hope had a good childhood,” she murmured. “She was happy. Diyoza was a great mom, and me? I was—I was like an aunt to her.”

Octavia let out a slow breath, and Bellamy could see the conflict in her eyes. The ache.

Then, after a long pause, she finally looked at him. “I didn’t know if I was ever going to see you again.” Her voice was quiet, almost fragile. “For six years, I thought this was it—my life now. But then… I remembered.” She swallowed hard. “I remembered I needed to warn you about the Primes, about Sanctum.”

Bellamy’s chest tightened.

“I tried to leave,” Octavia admitted, shaking her head. “Tried everything—I even swam down to the lake, thinking maybe I could reach the anomaly again. But it was no use.” Her hands clenched into fists. “I almost drowned before I even got close.”

Bellamy took a slow step closer. “You were willing to die to get back to me?”

Octavia let out a breath that sounded almost like a laugh. “Yeah, big brother,” she said, her voice wavering. “I was.”

Bellamy didn’t hesitate this time. He pulled her into a tight hug, holding onto her like he had nearly lost her all over again. Octavia stiffened for a second, then sank into his embrace, gripping the back of his shirt.

Octavia pulled away from Bellamy’s embrace, quickly wiping the stray tear that had slipped down her cheek. She took a steadying breath, but her voice was still thick with emotion as she continued.

“When Hope was six… the Disciples came.”

Bellamy’s expression hardened.

“They took tons of people from Skyring for experimenting,” Octavia said, shaking her head. “Diyoza and I had no idea what was happening at first. One moment, we were safe, and the next… they were everywhere.”

She swallowed hard, her fists clenching at her sides.

“They took Diyoza first,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “I fought—I fought so damn hard, Bell—but I couldn’t stop them. They overpowered me, dragged me through the anomaly, and I left her.”

The guilt in her voice was palpable, and Bellamy felt it like a punch to the gut.

Octavia let out a shaky breath. “But Hope… she never stopped fighting. Not even as a kid. Eventually, she escaped this planet and went after us on Bardo.”

Bellamy’s brows furrowed. “She escaped? How?”

Octavia’s jaw tightened. “She made a deal,” she admitted. “She offered me.”

Bellamy’s stomach dropped. “What?”

“She traded me,” Octavia said, looking away. “She told them to let me go back to Sanctum—let me warn you, let me have something—and then, eventually… she’d trade me back for her mother.” She let out a bitter laugh. “At the time, it was the only choice.”

Bellamy was silent for a long moment, absorbing what she had just said.

“She was sixteen,” Octavia whispered, her voice breaking. “And she had to make that deal. She grew up knowing she had to get strong enough to save her mom. And I… I let her.”

Bellamy let out a slow breath, his hands on his hips as he processed everything. “She did what she thought she had to do.”

Octavia nodded, but her expression was still tight with guilt. “Yeah,” she whispered. “And now? Now she hates me for it.”

Bellamy met her eyes, his gaze steady. “She doesn’t hate you, O.”

Octavia scoffed, but it was weak. “Then why does it feel like I already lost her?”

Bellamy sighed, stepping closer. “Because she’s angry. Because she remembers now. And that anger has nowhere to go.”

Octavia ran a hand through her hair, nodding. “Yeah,” she admitted, her voice raw. “And I don’t know how to fix it.”

Bellamy rested a hand on her shoulder. “You don’t fix it. You just be there—whether she wants you to be or not.”

Octavia nodded, swallowing back another wave of emotion.

Bellamy exhaled. “So what now?”

Octavia met his gaze, her eyes still heavy with the past. “Now?” she said. “Now we prepare. Because the Disciples are coming. And this time, we don’t let them take anything from us ever again.”

–

As Clarke pressed the soil down, making sure the seed was buried properly, she heard Niylah chuckle beside her.

“That’s what I had to learn how to do eventually,” Niylah mused, tilting her head as she worked on her own planting. “Back on Earth, my mother always told me, ‘You can fight, or you can build.’” She smirked, glancing at Clarke. “I chose both—but making food, making soap, trading supplies? That’s what kept our people alive just as much as the warriors did.”

Clarke wiped the sweat from her brow, glancing at Niylah. “I guess I never really thought about it that way.”

Niylah shrugged. “Most people didn’t. The Coalition needed warriors, sure—but they also needed people to make necessities. You think warriors would’ve lasted long without someone making their food, mending their clothes, or giving them medicine?” She shook her head. “That’s why I took over my family’s trading hut. I realized I wanted my life to have a better purpose than just fighting.”

Clarke frowned slightly at that, considering her words. A purpose beyond fighting.

For so long, Clarke’s life had been nothing but war. Every choice she had made had been about survival. Even now, stranded on Skyring, her first instinct was to prepare for the next battle, to find a way back to Madi and their people before it was too late.

But here was Niylah, someone who had chosen a different path. Someone who had learned how to make a life without bloodshed.

Clarke sighed, sitting back slightly on her heels. “I don’t even know what I’d do if I wasn’t fighting.”

Niylah gave her a knowing look. “Then maybe this is your chance to figure it out.”

Clarke exhaled, looking back down at the soil. Maybe it was.

Clarke gave Niylah a shy smile, brushing some dirt off her hands. “You never told me that before.”

Niylah shrugged, offering a small smile in return. “We never really had the time to talk about our pasts before.”

Clarke thought about that for a moment. She and Niylah had known each other for years now, ever since she first came to the trading post back on Earth. But their conversations had always been about survival, about what came next. They never had the luxury of sitting down and simply talking—about where they came from, about who they were before the wars, before the endless fight for survival.

“I guess we haven’t,” Clarke admitted, glancing at the small garden bed they were working on. “It’s funny… I know so much about you now—how you fight, how you survive—but not about the things that really made you who you are.”

Niylah smirked. “Well, it’s not that complicated. I was a kid who grew up in a trading post, learning how to barter for food, how to make soap, how to mend clothes. And eventually, I realized I liked that life more than being a warrior.” She paused for a moment, her smile turning softer. “I liked helping people in a different way.”

Clarke nodded slowly. “I don’t think I’ve ever had the chance to figure out what I like. I’ve always been… doing what needs to be done.”

Niylah studied her for a moment before nudging her lightly. “Well, here’s your chance, Wanheda,” she teased. “You’ve got time now. Might as well use it.”

Clarke let out a small laugh, shaking her head. “Yeah,” she said, feeling an odd sense of peace settle over her. “I guess I do.”

Vera wiped her hands on her apron, glancing up at the sky. “It rarely ever gets cold on Skyring,” she said, almost absentmindedly. “We don’t have winters like your ancestors did on Earth. It’s usually warm, though we do get rain every now and then.”

Clarke nodded, filing that information away. It was strange being on a planet where she didn’t have to worry about extreme seasons or nuclear storms.

Before she could say anything else, she heard Raven’s voice from behind her.

“Clarke, you ready?”

Clarke turned to see Raven approaching, her arms crossed. “The elder man who was taken by the Disciples—the one who trained with them—he’s waiting for us.”

Clarke took a deep breath and nodded. “Yeah, I’m ready.”

She turned back to Vera, offering her a grateful smile. “I’ll catch you later.”

Vera gave a small nod, wiping the dirt from her hands. “I’ll be here. You still have a lot to learn.”

Clarke chuckled softly. “I’ll try not to kill the plants in the meantime.”

With that, she stood up, brushing the soil off her knees, and followed Raven down the path toward the village center.

As Clarke, Raven, Niylah, and the others approached the small cabin near the village’s outskirts, they found the elder man waiting for them. He stood with an air of quiet confidence, his weathered face marked with the lines of a hard-lived life. Unlike the elder woman they had met before, he looked strong—his posture firm, his arms toned despite his age. He had the stance of a warrior, someone who had trained for years.

He watched them carefully as they approached, his piercing eyes scanning the group. Then, with a slow nod, he introduced himself.

“My name is Kanev,” he said, his voice deep and steady. “I was once a Disciple. Taken from Skyring, trained on Bardo… and then returned, deemed unworthy to serve the cause.”

Clarke exchanged a look with Raven before stepping forward. “We were told you could help us,” she said. “That you know how they train. How they fight.”

Kanev studied her for a long moment before nodding. “I do. And if you want to survive them, you need to understand what they believe. What they live for.”

Raven crossed her arms. “Great. So what, we have to listen to a cult indoctrination speech first?”

Kanev smirked slightly. “You can call it whatever you like, but the Disciples are more than just a group of soldiers. They are conditioned, physically and mentally. Their loyalty is absolute, their training relentless. And if you want to stand a chance against them, you must be willing to go through that same hell.”

Kanev motioned for everyone to step back, his sharp eyes scanning the group before landing on Octavia. He gave her a nod.

“You,” he said. “You’ve fought before. You understand discipline.”

Octavia rolled her shoulders and stepped forward. “I’ve been in enough fights to hold my own.”

Kanev smirked slightly. “We’ll see about that.”

He turned to the rest of the group. “The Disciples don’t fight like other soilders. They don’t brawl like brutes. Their combat is precise, calculated, and efficient. Every movement serves a purpose—no wasted energy, no reckless attacks.” He glanced at Clarke. “You think you can win by fighting with emotion? Against them, that will get you killed.”

Clarke swallowed, nodding. She understood the warning.

Kanev motioned for Octavia to stand in front of him. He took a stance—feet grounded, arms raised, but relaxed. Octavia mirrored him.

“The Disciples fight in sequences,” he explained. “They don’t rely on brute force. They train their bodies to react instinctively, to anticipate every move before their opponent makes it.”

Without warning, Kanev struck—fast, a sharp jab toward Octavia’s ribs. She barely had time to block, her arm coming up instinctively. He nodded in approval.

“Good. But you’re thinking too much. The Disciples don’t think. They act.”

He moved again, sweeping his leg toward her ankle. Octavia tried to dodge, but he was faster, knocking her balance just enough for her to stumble back.

“See?” Kanev said to the others. “A second too slow, and you’re on the ground.”

Octavia’s eyes narrowed as she steadied herself. “Alright. My turn.”

She lunged forward, her movements quicker now, testing his defense. Kanev dodged easily, blocking her strikes with minimal effort. But then, Octavia feinted—a false jab before spinning into a kick aimed at his side.

Kanev just managed to block it, a flicker of surprise in his expression.

Octavia smirked. “How’s that for thinking too much?”

Kanev let out a low chuckle, nodding in approval. “Not bad.” He turned to the rest of the group. “That’s your first lesson—deception. The Disciples expect you to be predictable. If you can disrupt their rhythm, you have a chance.”

Raven crossed her arms. “Great. So, what, we just learn to fight like robots now?”

Kanev smirked. “No. You learn to beat them at their own game.”

Clarke exhaled, watching as Octavia reset her stance, determination flashing in her eyes. This was only the beginning, but she knew one thing for certain—when the Disciples came back, they would be ready.

As the evening settled over Skyring, the sky cast in soft hues of orange and purple, the group walked back toward their cabins, exhausted from the day’s training. Kanev had drilled them relentlessly, teaching them the precise, calculated movements of the Disciples’ combat style. Every block, strike, and counter had been methodical—something Clarke wasn’t used to.

She rolled her sore shoulders as they reached the cabins. The air was crisp, carrying the scent of the nearby lake and the distant fires burning in the village.

Bellamy pushed open the door to their shared cabin, stepping aside to let Clarke enter first. She set down her things, stretching slightly before glancing at him.

“I’m gonna wash up before supper,” she told him.

Bellamy nodded, running a hand through his sweat-dampened hair. “Yeah, go ahead. I might do the same after you.”

Clarke gave him a small, tired smile before heading toward the bathroom. The cabin was simple but comfortable—wooden walls, a modest bed, a few small pieces of furniture, and a bathroom that, while basic, was a luxury compared to the Ark and the grounder settlements they’d once lived in.

She turned on the shower, letting the warm water heat up as she pulled off her training clothes. Stepping under the stream, she sighed as the warmth soothed her aching muscles, washing away the grime and sweat of the day.

Her mind wandered as she let the water cascade over her.

Niylah’s words echoed in her head.

“Maybe this is your chance to figure out who you are.”

Clarke had never had that chance. Every step of her life had been dictated by survival—by war, by impossible choices, by the burden of leading people who looked to her for answers. Even now, even stranded here, her mind was already focused on preparing for the next fight, the next way out.

But for the first time in years, there was no immediate war. No death looming over their heads.

What did it even mean to just live?

She wasn’t sure she knew how.

As she washed her hair, she let the thought sit with her. Maybe Skyring, despite being another cage, was offering something different—something she had never allowed herself before.

Maybe here, she could figure out who Clarke Griffin was outside of the battle.

Shaking the thought away, she turned off the water and stepped out, wrapping a towel around herself. She wiped the condensation off the small mirror above the sink, catching her own reflection.

For the first time in a long time, she didn’t see Wanheda staring back at her.

She just saw herself.

And maybe, for now, that was enough.

Towel-drying her hair, she changed into the simple, soft clothes left for them—loose pants and a long-sleeved tunic. When she stepped back into the main room, Bellamy was sitting on the edge of the bed, absentmindedly rubbing his shoulder from the strain of training.

He looked up as she walked in, his gaze softening slightly. “Feel better?”

Clarke gave him a small smile. “Yeah. You should go before all the hot water’s gone.”

Bellamy smirked as he stood. “Thanks for the warning.”

As he headed toward the bathroom, Clarke sat on the edge of the bed, running her fingers through her damp hair. Outside the cabin, she could hear the distant sound of laughter and chatter from the village.

Maybe, just maybe, this place wasn’t just a prison.

Maybe it was a chance to breathe.

The next morning, as the sun cast a warm glow over Skyring, Hope walked into the cabin where Bellamy was preparing for the day. She held a folded piece of paper in her hands, her fingers tracing the edges of it with hesitation.

“I found this,” she said quietly, holding it out to him.

Bellamy glanced at the paper, his brows furrowing. “What is it?”

Hope swallowed. “A letter. From Octavia. She wrote it when she thought she was never getting off this planet… when she thought she’d never see you again.”

Bellamy’s breath hitched slightly, his eyes flickering from the letter to Hope’s solemn expression. He hesitated for a second before reaching out and carefully taking the paper from her hands.

Hope stepped back, giving him space. “You should read it.”

Bellamy nodded silently, his throat tight as he lowered himself onto the wooden chair in the corner of the cabin. His fingers trembled slightly as he unfolded the letter, Octavia’s familiar handwriting staring back at him. Taking a deep breath, he began to read.

The wooden chair creaked slightly as Bellamy lowered himself into it, his hands trembling as he unfolded the delicate, timeworn piece of paper. The ink had faded slightly, the edges of the letter worn from where Octavia had likely held it countless times, debating whether she would ever have the chance to deliver it.

Hope stood nearby, arms crossed as she leaned against the cabin wall. “I found it this morning,” she murmured. “She wrote it when she thought she’d never see you again.”

Bellamy swallowed hard, staring at the familiar handwriting, and began to read.

Bell,

If you’re reading this, it means I never made it back to you. And that… that breaks my heart more than I can put into words. I’ve spent so long trying to get back, to warn you about the Primes, to tell you that I didn’t leave you by choice. But if you have this letter, then I guess I failed.

I wish I could tell you everything in person. That I could hug you one last time, that I could sit next to you and just exist as your little sister, without the war, without the burdens. But this planet—it became my home. And I found a family here. I found peace, for the first time in my life.

I raised Hope like she was my own. She’s everything good in this world, Bell. Strong, stubborn, fearless. Just like her mother. Just like me. I told her about you. About how you raised me, how you always put me first, no matter the cost. And I told her if she ever got off this planet, she should find you. Because there’s no one in the universe I trust more than you.

But Bell, you have to stop putting everyone else before yourself.

You deserve to be happy, big brother. You deserve to live for something more than just the fight. I don’t know where you are, or if you’re still leading, still sacrificing, still carrying the weight of everyone else’s survival. But I hope that, somehow, you’ve found a way to put yourself first, too. Maybe even found someone who makes all of this worth it.

No matter what happens, I want you to know—I never stopped loving you. I never stopped hoping that, somehow, you’d be okay. Even if I’m not there to see it.

Love always,

Your little sister

Bellamy’s vision blurred as he reached the end of the letter, his fingers gripping the worn edges of the paper as if it were the only thing keeping him grounded. His heart ached with a mix of sorrow, guilt, and overwhelming love.

Hope’s voice was softer now. “I remember when she wrote it,” she said. “She was crying. She didn’t want me to see, but I did.”

Bellamy exhaled shakily, swiping a hand over his face. “She really thought she’d never get out of here,” he murmured.

Hope nodded. “She did. And even then, she was thinking about you.”

Bellamy swallowed, running his fingers over the letter. You have to stop putting everyone else before yourself.

He had spent his whole life fighting, leading, sacrificing. He had done everything to make sure his people, his family, survived—even when it meant losing himself in the process. But this letter, Octavia’s final words to him, forced him to face something he had long ignored.

Maybe it was time to start living for himself, too.

Hope’s voice broke through his thoughts. “She’s happy now you’re here.”

Bellamy gave a small nod, his throat tight with emotion. He carefully folded the letter, tucking it into his pocket as if it were something sacred.

Because maybe, in a way, it was.

–

As days turned into months on Skyring, the group adapted to their new life. They learned the ways of the Skyring people—how to farm, how to hunt, how to live off the land. But alongside that, they were also trained in the ways of the Disciples. Kanev pushed them harder each day, drilling them in combat, strategy, and endurance. If they were going to survive what was coming, they had to be ready.

One afternoon, the sun cast a warm glow over the training grounds as Kanev ordered them to run laps around the perimeter. The group groaned but obeyed, their feet pounding against the dirt path as they pushed themselves forward.

Octavia grinned as she surged ahead, casting a glance back at Gabriel. “Come on, old man, keep up!”

Gabriel rolled his eyes but smirked. “I’m pacing myself.”

Octavia scoffed. “That’s what people say when they’re losing.”

Gabriel let out a breathless chuckle but didn’t argue.

Meanwhile, Niylah jogged effortlessly, barely breaking a sweat. “This is easy,” she commented, smirking as she passed Raven.

Raven shot her a glare, her breathing uneven as she pushed through the strain in her leg. “Yeah, well, some of us have metal in our bodies, Niylah,” she muttered.

Kanev watched them closely, his sharp eyes assessing their endurance. “Alright,” he finally called out. “Five-minute water break.”

Clarke let out a relieved sigh, immediately reaching for her water bottle. She could feel sweat running down her body, her shirt sticking slightly to her skin as she tilted her head back to drink. The sun beat down on them, making the heat even more unbearable, but she welcomed the burn in her muscles. It reminded her that she was getting stronger.

She glanced around at the others—Bellamy was leaning against a tree, wiping sweat off his forehead. Octavia was still grinning from her victory over Gabriel. Hope was stretching out her arms, still restless even during the break.

Then Clarke’s gaze landed on Raven, who had sat down on a nearby rock, massaging her knee.

Clarke walked over, taking a seat beside her and offering her water bottle. “You okay?”

Raven let out a breath, taking the bottle with a small nod. “Yeah. Just… my leg’s not made for this kind of training.”

Clarke frowned. “You’re doing great, though. You’re keeping up.”

Raven smirked slightly, shaking her head. “Barely.” She took a long sip of water, then glanced at Clarke. “You’re looking stronger. Maybe Skyring’s good for you.”

Clarke chuckled, wiping sweat from her brow. “Maybe. I’m still not used to all this running, though.”

Before Raven could reply, Kanev’s voice rang out. “Break’s over! Back in formation.”

Clarke and Raven groaned in unison as they trudged back into formation, their muscles aching from the relentless training. Kanev wasn’t letting up, and at this point, they all knew better than to expect any leniency. Still, as much as they hated it, they were getting stronger—faster, more precise, more disciplined. 

As the months passed, life on Skyring became a strange mix of routine and uncertainty. The group adapted to their surroundings, learning how to live off the land while preparing for the inevitable day when the Disciples would return. But amidst the training and survival, something else had begun to shift.

Clarke and Bellamy had always been close, but here, in this place where time moved differently and the weight of war didn’t press quite as hard, something unspoken lingered between them. It wasn’t just the way they always ended up working together, or how Bellamy’s hand would linger a second longer than necessary when he helped her up after training. It was in the way they looked at each other—soft, lingering glances when they thought no one else was watching.

Except, of course, everyone was watching.

One night, after a long day of training, the group gathered around a campfire, the flames crackling in the quiet night air. Above them, the stars stretched across the sky, brighter than any night on Earth, with the rings of the nearby planet casting a faint glow over the landscape.

It was peaceful in a way Clarke hadn’t experienced in years. No war, no impending disaster—just them, sitting together under the vast sky.

The silence had stretched for a while, only the crackling of the fire filling the air, until Clarke finally broke it.

“How did we even get here?” she asked, her voice thoughtful as she stared into the flames. “Not just here on Skyring, but… here. How did all of this happen?”

Bellamy, sitting beside her, let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. “You mean how did we go from trying to survive on the Ark to being stranded on a planet with time dilation and a secret war cult?”

Clarke smirked. “Yeah. That.”

Octavia, leaning back on her elbows, let out a breath. “Sometimes I wonder if we were always meant to end up here. Like, no matter what choices we made, the universe was always pushing us toward this.”

Hope, sitting cross-legged across from her, raised an eyebrow. “You think it was destiny?”

Octavia shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

Gabriel, ever the scientist, shook his head. “It’s not destiny. It’s just a series of choices. Some ours, some made by people long before us. The anomaly, the Eligius missions, Cadogan’s obsession with the last war—it all led to this moment.”

Raven scoffed. “Yeah, well, whatever it is, I’d like a damn refund.”

The group chuckled, the tension in the air easing slightly. Clarke glanced over at Bellamy, who was staring up at the sky, lost in thought.

“What do you think?” she asked him quietly.

Bellamy sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I think… we’ve been fighting for so long, we never had time to stop and ask why. Why we keep surviving, why we keep fighting, why we keep choosing each other, over and over.”

Clarke’s heart skipped slightly at the last part, but she said nothing.

Bellamy turned his gaze back to her, his expression softer now. “Maybe it doesn’t matter how we got here. Maybe what matters is what we do next.”

Clarke held his gaze for a long moment before nodding. “Yeah,” she murmured. “Maybe you’re right.”

The fire crackled between them, casting flickering shadows against the darkened trees. The warmth of it was comforting, but there was an underlying sadness that none of them wanted to acknowledge.

Then Jordan spoke up, his voice soft but certain.

“My parents only ever dreamed of this,” he said, staring up at the sky.

Clarke, Bellamy, Miller, and Raven all fell silent, their expressions shifting as the weight of his words settled over them.

Monty and Harper.

Their friends. Their family. The ones who had chosen peace when the rest of them couldn’t see a way out of the endless cycle of war.

Raven sighed, rubbing a hand over her face. “Monty would’ve loved this place,” she muttered. “He’d probably be analyzing the soil or trying to figure out how the ecosystem works.”

Miller gave a small, sad smile. “And Harper would be making sure we weren’t taking life too seriously.”

Clarke swallowed hard, feeling an ache in her chest. “They wanted this,” she murmured. “A place to live, without war. Without fighting.”

Bellamy was quiet for a moment before exhaling slowly. “And we still ended up here. Still training for another fight.” His jaw tightened. “They gave us a chance to break the cycle, and look at us.”

Jordan shook his head. “It’s not that simple,” he said. “They wanted peace, yeah. But they also wanted us to survive. They knew we couldn’t just forget everything we’d been through. They just… they wanted us to find another way.”

The fire crackled, filling the silence that followed.

Clarke wrapped her arms around her knees, looking at Jordan. “Do you think we failed them?”

Jordan glanced at her, then at the rest of the group. “No,” he said. “I think we’re still figuring it out.”

Bellamy exhaled, shaking his head. “Monty would call us idiots.”

That earned a small laugh from Miller. “Yeah. He really would.”

Raven smirked slightly, though her eyes were still heavy with grief. “And Harper would tell him to shut up and let us have our moment.”

A bittersweet chuckle passed between them, but the ache in their chests remained.

Because Monty and Harper should have been here. They should have gotten to see the world they had dreamed of. But instead, it was up to them to keep moving forward, to find the peace their friends had sacrificed so much for.

Clarke glanced at Bellamy again, seeing the same sadness reflected in his eyes.

Maybe Jordan was right. Maybe they hadn’t failed.

Maybe they were still figuring it out.

Clarke shifted slightly, moving closer to Bellamy, her body drawn to the warmth he radiated. Without thinking, she rested her head on his shoulder.

Bellamy tensed for a moment at the sudden intimacy, his muscles briefly stiff beneath her touch. But he didn’t pull away. Instead, after a brief hesitation, he relaxed, tilting his head just slightly toward hers.

It was subtle, but it was enough.

The fire flickered before them, its glow reflecting in the depths of Clarke’s thoughts. She knew this peace was only temporary. The quiet nights, the training, the long days spent adapting to Skyring’s way of life—it wouldn’t last forever. One day, they would leave this place. One day, the fight would come back for them.

And then what?

Her mind drifted back to Sanctum.

What was happening back home? Was Madi okay? Was Gaia still keeping her safe? Were Murphy and Emori holding up their cover, keeping the peace between the Prime followers and the others?

Clarke swallowed hard. She had fought so hard to give Madi a chance at a real childhood. And yet, here she was, stranded light-years away, training for another war, unable to protect her.

Bellamy must have felt the tension in her body because his voice was quiet when he finally spoke. “You’re thinking about home.”

Clarke nodded against his shoulder, exhaling softly. “I can’t help but wonder what’s happening on Sanctum. If Madi’s safe. If Murphy and Emori are okay.”

Bellamy sighed, his voice low. “I’ve been thinking about it too.”

They sat in silence for a moment, the weight of uncertainty settling over them like a heavy blanket. The people they loved were out there, beyond Skyring, beyond the anomaly, living through whatever consequences had unfolded in their absence.

Bellamy shifted slightly, turning his head to look at Clarke. “We’ll get back,” he said, his voice steady. “We’ll see them again.”

Clarke wanted to believe that. She needed to believe that.

But as she closed her eyes, listening to the fire crackle and feeling the steady rhythm of Bellamy’s breathing beside her, she let herself do something she rarely did.

She let herself be in the moment.

For just tonight, she allowed herself to feel something other than fear, other than responsibility.

Just warmth. Just Bellamy. Just this.