• •

CHAPTER FOURTEEN;

LITTLE BIRD.

• •

RAVEN REYES WAS AN UNFATHOMABLE FORCE OF BEAUTY. Quickwitted and brillant, lionhearted and loyal. Her usually neat ponytail was now a cascade of tangled strands, tousled and frizzed by the tumultuous descent to Earth. A trail of blood streaked down the side of her temple in a wild lightning strike. Wide, hickory eyes, surveyed her surroundings with a blend of unmatched precision and an incredible sense of wonder.

Her gaze shifted from the stricken face of the Collins boy, briefly flitting towards the treetops before softening upon the figure of her best friend–her home. The smile stretching across her flushed skin could crumble even the steepest of mountains. In a burst of disbelief, she shouted, "Haven?"

Upon hearing her name, Haven's knees nearly gave way beneath her. Nevertheless, she summoned the strength to move, compelling her limbs to carry her across the expanse of grass, her heart thumping wildly. It was only when the girls met each other's arms that they collapsed, melted, disintegrated into a storm of joyous tears.

Five years.

It had been five years.

"You thought I was lying, huh?" Raven laughed into the crook of her best friend's neck with familiar ease. Despite falling from the sky, her strength remained otherworldly; she tugged her closer and closer until their torsos squished together as one. "I told you I was getting my ass down here somehow."

        "I never doubted it." Haven whispered, her eyes closing with a cellular sense of relief. The breath within her lungs vanished as she tried to process the unbelievable. She was here. She was alive. She was here. Every tear shed was a cathartic release, echoing the depth of their reunion and the weight of everything they had endured apart. "You're insane."

"Nah." Raven beamed. "I'm a genius."

        After a lingering moment, Finn gently guided the girls off of the ground, settling them back on their feet. Raven, almost magnetically, nestled back into his arms. Yet, he seemed to hold her at a slight distance, staring at her with eyes widened, lips parted–as if she were a ghost. "How did you get here?"

        "You know that big scraphold?" Raven's lips curled with a hint of mischief, a glint of shimmery pride dancing within her eyes. Not once did she tear her gaze away from the boy in front of her. "The one on K-deck?"

        Finn glanced to the pod, then back to Raven. "You built that from scrap?"

"I kind of rebuilt it." Raven revealed, her voice tinged with a sense of accomplishment, echoed by the backdrop of Finn's disbelieving laughter. "Please, like that's hard. It just needed a couple parts and some love. There used to be two pods, but..."

All eyes flickered to Haven.

Her mother's attempt to launch the second pod on K-Deck wasn't necessarily a secret among the Ark. Mecha, well acquainted with Dahlia's eccentricities, didn't find it particularly surprising. Yet, for the inhabitants of other stations, it became the hottest piece of gossip they'd encountered in ages.

Rumor had it that Dahlia had even got as far as initiating the launch sequence in the airlock chamber. Given that the pod was archaic, the boosters failed, consequently starting an electrical fire. Then, the fire triggered the smoke alarm, which prompted every guard on deck to swarm the area. Her arrest was swift.

Her execution was immediate.

The tale had taken on a life of its own, yet for Haven, separating fact from embellishment remained a challenge. Particularly when the recounting of it emanated solely from the mouths of snot-mouthed Alpha station kids in the Sky Box.

Disrupting the uneasy silence, Finn echoed Haven's earlier statement with a touch of incredulity. He shook his head, still struggling to comprehend that the Reyes girl was standing right in front of him. "You're insane."

"I'd do more for you and worse." Raven uttered every word in a solemn oath, blissfully oblivious to Finn's gaze flitting away from his girlfriend and instead toward Clarke. "Just like you would for me."

        Haven winced.

        In truth, she had forgotten that Clarke was even standing there to begin with. The Griffin girl hadn't moved, hadn't so much as uttered a single word. It marked the quietest she'd been since their arrival on Earth. A statue of despair, Clarke remained rigid, her gaze transfixed on Finn's hands as they delicately touched the body of another.

        There was an irrefutable anger coiling within Haven's stomach as she glanced between Finn and Clarke; reminiscent of the way it had before her quest for the transmitter. Though there was no proof of infidelity–the longing in Clarke's eyes, the guilt ridden within Finn's sunken face felt damning enough.

        For a moment, Haven wrestled with the impulse to pummel Finn to the ground, demanding answers in the form of teeth-pulling. When it came to her best friend–retribution was an insatiable thirst. Yet, all of that wrath was extinguished as soon as Raven staggered off balance.

        "Come on, sit down. Sit down here." Finn gently guided Raven toward a nearby rock, his grip tender around her arms. Once she was settled, he shrugged off his bomber jacket and effortlessly draped it over her shoulders. "Let me get something for that."

As Finn departed toward Clarke, already rummaging through her backpack for supplies, Haven swiftly settled beside Raven on the rock. Her eyes scrutinized the dried blood on her friend's temple, a concerned grimace creasing her features. "Should I ask how landing went?"

"Should I ask why you're soaking wet?" Raven raised a brow. "The better question would be if I remember landing. Which, I don't. I think I knocked out right as I crashed through the atmosphere. It was fucking epic." She forced a laugh, embracing the disorientation with a touch of humor. Finn promptly returned with a cloth for her wound, Clarke trailing behind. "Thanks."

Finn crouched down, hands placed on his knees, inspecting Raven's cut more closely. Then, he tilted his head toward the blonde beside him. "This is Clarke. She was on the dropship too."

"Clarke?" Raven stood at once, the name sparking recognition with utmost clarity. "This was all because of your mom."

Clarke's complexion drained entirely, and she seemed to find her voice for the first time since the encounter began. "My mom?"

"This was all her plan. We were trying to come down here together. If we waited–oh my God." Raven's voice trailed off in a whisper. For a moment, her eyes lowered to the ground, as if summoning strength from the very soil beneath. "We couldn't wait because the Council was voting whether to kill three hundred people to save air."

Haven's heart plummeted.

        If the Council was preparing to kill it's citizens by the masses, oxygen deprivation must've accelerated far ahead of schedule. But then again–she wouldn't put it past them to do it behind schedule either. More casualties meant less oxygen consumption, buying more time for the Council and higher-ups.

Clarke dared a step closer. "When?"

"Today." Raven's voice was hollow. Brown eyes frantically scanned the group, ablaze with dread before hardening with conviction. After a beat, she surged into a sprint toward the pod. "We have to tell them you're alive!"

Haven remained rooted in place as Finn and Clarke bolted after Raven, their feet driven by an undeniable sense of purpose. As much as she longed to run after them, she knew that she couldn't. Her legs were paralyzed. Her heart felt ashen. Unbeknownst to the others–they were racing toward the one hope that she knew wouldn't be found.

The radio.

"The radio's gone!" Raven's exclamation carried a sharp edge of anger, her eyes frantically scanning the surroundings in a desperate attempt to locate it. "It must've gotten loose during reentry. I should've strapped it to the A-strut." Irritated, she sent a fist soaring toward the pod, the impact echoing her annoyance. "Stupid!"

"No." At that, Haven broke free of her paralysis. She'd be damned to let Raven blame herself for his actions. Shoving aside the jagged rock lodged in her throat, she jogged toward the group more determinedly. "No, this is not your fault."

        Exasperated, Raven whipped toward Haven with pinched brows. "What do you mean?"

        "Bellamy." Clarke answered, silencing Haven before she had a chance to open her mouth. In a mere two seconds, the blonde connected the dots. She observed Haven more intently—the damp clothes, the lingering signs of exertion on her cheeks, the despair clouding her weary eyes. Cautiously, she stepped forward. "He... he was with you, wasn't he? Before we got here?"

        Haven nodded, defeated.

"Of course he was," Clarke affirmed, swiftly heading toward the trees and signaling the others to follow with a tilt of her head. "We have to find him. Let's move."

• •

        TIME SHIFTED IN A BOUNDLESS BLUR AS THE GROUP RALLIED FORWARD. Finn assumed the lead, having spotted Bellamy's muddy tracks about a mile north of the pod, opposite the direction of the river. Clarke matched his pace, steamrolling alongside him with clenched fists.

        Haven and Raven hung toward the back, a placement that Haven found preferable. Against her better judgement, she withheld the fact that Bellamy had thrown the radio in the river, leeching to the blind hope that maybe, just maybe–he might've found it before they found him. It wasn't her favorite choice, but she feared that if she told them now, it would destroy their will entirely. Keeping the distance forced her to bite her tongue, protecting the group's morale until absolutely necessary.

        Raven didn't mind; in fact, she likely moved the most leisurely in the group, not intentionally, but with a distinct sense of ease. AKA: not traumatized–yet. It made sense, given she was blissfully unaware of the force that was Bellamy Blake, and joyfully unbeknownst to the trauma that had afflicted the others during the past two weeks.

Haven cast a glance toward Raven's face.

She wanted to remember her happy.

"There!"

At the sound of Finn's whisper, the group lifted their heads. Soundlessly, he pointed a finger toward a familiar figure among the trees, beckoning the others to follow.

Lo and behold, Bellamy Blake emerged, his formidable physique storming through the forest with a practiced ease. Arrogantly. Loudly. He seemingly carried little concern, indifferent to the possibility of a Grounder hearing his thunderous footsteps and killing him. Unless, of course–he felt confident enough to kill them instead.

Raven scrunched her brows. "Who's he?"

Haven frowned, deciding on the most appropriate way to answer that. It was odd, in a way. Bellamy had grown to be such a strong presence during Haven's time in the Sky Box, yet Raven knew nothing about it. With a dreadful sigh, her eyes remained fixed on the man in the distance, burdened by the certainty that she would know him anywhere, everywhere.

        "You'll wish you never asked."

        At once, the group spurred into action. This time, Haven seized the lead, propelling herself to the front with a furious sprint. Any lingering sense of despair was swiftly incinerated, replaced by an undeniable rage that crackled and hissed at the mere sight of him.

"Hey–jackass!"

Bellamy spun around, only to be engulfed by the inferno of Haven's presence. She halted just beside him, jaw wobbly with restrained fury. "Easy now," he coaxed, lifting a sly brow as she stared him down, as if he hadn't confessed the darkest of his sins to her just an hour ago. "You takin' a walk in the woods?"

Haven fumed. "You motherfu–"

"Enough!" Clarke arrived next, preemptively inserting between the duo. "They're getting ready to kill three hundred people up there to save oxygen, and I can guarantee you it won't be council members. It'll be working people." Her disdain was lethal as she jabbed a finger at Bellamy's chest. "Your people!"

Before Bellamy had a chance to digest Clarke's words, or retaliate, Finn swooped in–shoving Bellamy backwards with a force so vicious that it made him stumble. "Bellamy, where's the radio?"

Cocking his head to the side, eyes ablaze with wicked defiance, Bellamy responded by slamming Finn back–twice as hard. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

Haven studied Bellamy for a moment, forcing herself to blink past the crimson haze clouding her vision. His clothes were thoroughly drenched, water still clinging to his curls and succumbing to gravity with each sway of his head. It became apparent that he had emerged from the river far more recently than expected. Yet, upon closer scrutiny, no trace of the radio remained.

He didn't find it.

        "Bellamy Blake?" Raven stepped forward now, sizing Bellamy up with eyes more glacial than depths of space itself. "They're looking everywhere for you."

        Bellamy paid her no mind. "Shut up."

        "Watch it." Haven hissed.

        Clarke furrowed her brows, eyes darting rapidly between Bellamy and Raven in search of understanding. When she spoke, her tone hardened. "Looking for him why?"

Raven practically smirked, relishing the role of the being the detrimental crack in the Blake boy's armor. "He shot Chancellor Jaha."

        An unsettling silence loomed over the group. Bellamy's eyes flashed toward Finn and Clarke, anticipation heavy in his gaze as he absorbed the weight of their troubled reactions. Everything he had done was laid out bare; the revelation poised to unravel every motive he had harbored since they landed. Now–the upperhand belonged to them.

       Not him.

"That's why you took the wristbands." Clarke assessed, weaving the pieces together as her features contorted with outrage. "Needed everyone to think we're dead!"

        "All that 'whatever the hell we want'?" Finn scoffed, though his expression was eerily devoid of surprise. "You don't care. You don't care about anybody here besides your damn self!"

With a indignant huff, Bellamy stormed off.

       At least–he tried to.

       "Hey–shooter!" Raven immediately raced after him, fearless and full of fire. She didn't know much about the stranger, but judging by the murderous look on Finn's face, on Haven's–she certainly knew enough. Without missing a beat, she blocked his path. "Where's my radio?"

"Get out of my way."

"Where is it?!"

        "I should've killed you when I had the chance." Bellamy spat.

        "Really?" Raven tilted her head, a cunning grin playing on her lips before she set her jaw in steely determination. Hell hath no fury like a teenage girl, a truth Bellamy had known all too well through Haven and Octavia. Raven Reyes, however, was an uncharted territory. "Well, I'm right here."

Haven recognized the shadowy glint within Bellamy's eyes on instinct. Just as the Smith girl shifted to retrieve her blade–Bellamy seized Raven by the collar of her jacket, slamming her against a nearby tree trunk, his hand clamped loosely around her throat in warning.

In a lightning-fast maneuver, Haven poised her blade directly at the back of Bellamy's spine, but somehow–Raven was faster. Despite Bellamy's grip on her throat, Raven writhed with astonishing agility, retrieving a knife of her own. With a seamless twist of her arm, she effortlessly aimed the silvery metal at the delicate skin of his neck.

"Where's my radio?" She hissed.

"Go on, Bellamy." Haven's voice was low. The wrath within her felt as though it were rearranging her very cells. While she fully understood Raven's capability to defend herself–something she admired—the wildfire in her blood was already set ablaze. "Tell her."

       Maybe it was the remnants of a heart still caged within him, or maybe it was the heat of Haven's words brushing against his neck. Bellamy didn't quite know, yet either way–he released his hold on Raven's throat, striding away with an air of defiance. "Jaha deserved to die," he declared over his shoulder, "You all know that."

"Yeah, he's not my favorite person either." Raven huffed, regaining her composure and straightening her posture after nearly being strangled. "But he isn't dead."

Bellamy froze.

        "What?"

        "How?"

        Haven shot a sidelong glare at Bellamy, only to find him mirroring the same incredulous expression. Both of their questions escaped their lips in perfect unison, hanging in the air with a shared sense of disbelief.

        Raven scoffed. "You're a lousy shot."

        Again, they found each other in a glance. It fleeting, lasting all for a millisecond, but the thoughts conveyed were substantial enough. Jaha's survival meant Bellamy wasn't a murderer. Though the consequences remained largely unchanged, there was a subtle moral reprieve. It eased his conscience in the slightest, only to replaced by something much heavier–much darker.

        "Bellamy, don't you see what this means?" Clarke stormed toward the Blake boy with helplessly pleading eyes. "You're not a murderer. You always did what you had to do to protect your sister. That's who you are. And you can do it again by protecting three hundred of your people," she sucked in a breath, "Where's the radio?"

Bellamy sighed. "It's too late."

At once, Haven's heart cleaved in two.

Her throat constricted, chest tight with an immobilizing swell of grief. She was angry–so damn angry that she longed to tear her stupid heart out of her chest and pulverize it with her fists. All of the time spent chasing after Bellamy felt useless; they could've been searching the river instead. Now, they were faced with an even more lethal time constraint–all because Haven omitted the truth. All because her miserable, traitorous heart held out hope.

She didn't just fail the group.

She failed three hundred people.

"He's right," Haven rasped, unable to meet the four pairs of eyes that flickered in her direction. "He trashed it in the fucking river."

Clarke paled. "He what?"

"Of course he did. That's why you're both drenched, huh?" Raven's eyes flitted between Haven and Bellamy before settling on the latter with a stormy glare. "You know what–I hope she tried to drown you."

Bellamy's jaw tightened beneath the weight of her gaze, the once-menacing glint in his eyes now subdued. No longer on the defensive, something else had taken hold of him entirely. As he observed the tremble in Haven's jaw, the despair in Clarke's eyes, and the furrow in Finn's brows–he was no longer fueled by wrath, selfishness, or impulse.

He was driven by guilt.

Silently, he approached the Reyes girl, who still hovered close to Haven's side. A brief moment of apprehension gripped the group, dreading another outburst; Raven herself tensed, fingers tightly clutching her blade. As he reached behind his back, fingers seeking the object tucked within his waistband, they each held their breath in anticipation.

With a grunt, he thrust it into her hands.

It was the radio.

• •

        "WOULD YOU QUIT SCREWING AROUND? I DON'T WANNA GET BLOWN UP BY AN INCEL."

        Nathan Miller visibly shrank beneath the orders of Raven Reyes. Given that she was nineteen and very much not a prisoner–none of the delinquents had seen her before, aside from a handful of Mecha kids. Most of them thought she was bossy. Rude. Bitchy. However, she also stood out as the only one who confidently knew what they were doing. So–when she said to jump, they simply asked how high.

        "I'd listen to her, Miller." Haven offered the boy a playful pat on the shoulder. He dismissed it with a middle finger, but a private grin tugged at his lips as he continued tightening a series of bolts. "You'll get used to it eventually."

        Turning on her heels, Haven continued her walk throughout the camp. The delinquents were abuzz with a newfound sense of purpose, extending far beyond the task of building the wall. In every direction, kids were engaged in a variety of activities—some confidently barking orders, others nodding lamely in agreement. Some diligently hammered away at custom-built hunks of metal, while others transported tanks of rocket fuel, faces twisted with the fear of dropping it. Even sworn enemies found themselves working alongside each other. It was chaotic yet meticulously orchestrated–driven by the collective realization that their actions carried weightier consequences than ever before.

It wasn't just their lives at stake now.

It was their families.

In the aftermath of Bellamy's ill-timed reveal of the radio, the group immediately sprang into action. The components were soaked, as anticipated, requiring at least half a day for the components to dry out and assess the damage. With time being of the essence, the urgency forced them to abandon the radio (for now) and pivot to Plan B:

        Rocket launchers.

Raven's idea of using flares was a spontaneous stroke of brilliance. Finn and Jones hauled the control panel from the pod back to camp, enabling Monty to skillfully rewire the electrical work for compatibility with the flares. Jasper and Sterling spearheaded the construction of barrels to support the flares upon loading. Miller expertly attached the boosters, while Raven took charge of administering the fuel as needed.

Haven didn't have an assigned task. Under different circumstances, she would've eagerly lunged at the chance to shadow Raven with the explosive work, reminiscent of their time on the Ark. However, the idea felt too burdensome in the aftermath of the whole transmitter shit-show.

Instead, she bounced from person to person, gladly lending a hand with their smaller, less daunting tasks. Her fingers bore the marks of rust, hair messily tied behind her shoulders, and her muscles cried out for rest. Yet, the activity provided a welcome distraction from, well... a lot.

Impending doom being first.

Bellamy Blake being second.

In the cave, before Atom, Wells, and Charlotte had died, before Murphy was banished–Haven had made the conscious decision not to set any expectations for him; survival came first. Yet, that resolve faltered as soon as he became the one endangering their survival, only to then play the savior all within the same damn day.

         It was infuriating.

        He was infuriating.

        And though it was far too late, just like Haven had said–he didn't come out of that river until he found the radio at last. Before he knew about the culling. Before he knew that Jaha was alive. He was willing to face the consequences. Albeit, he couldn't, because the radio was fucking toast. But at the very least–he tried.

That had to count for something.

Right?

        "Haven Grey Smith–get your ass over here!"

Haven's head snapped toward the commanding shout. On the opposite end of the camp, Raven beckoned her over with a decisive wave. Quickly, Haven heeded her call, deftly weaving through the bustling delinquents until she reached Raven's side. "What's up, birdy?"

"Haven't heard that one in a while." Raven chuckled, a nostalgic twinkle in her eyes as she skillfully secured a flare into it's barrel.

"Lemme think..." Haven pointedly paused for exaggeration, savoring the rhythmic clinks and twists of Raven's skilled hands with the flare. It sounded like home. "How about the good ol' Wrench Wench?"

"Fuck no." Raven's nose scrunched with distaste at the old nickname. Satisfied with her work, she rose and moved to the unloaded flare adjacent to the last one. "Monty's gonna start up the launch sequence in five. Need some help propping up the last couple barrels."

"Uh–"

"You can and you will."

"Got it." Haven nodded, quelling the pulse of anxiety that threatened to surface. She shoved it aside, violently forcing it down, down, down. Securing a literal rocket launcher with shaky hands would surely end in disaster. With a determined breath, she shifted to her own barrel. "You think it's gonna work?"

Raven's eyes lingered on Haven for a beat too long, a subtle intensity in her gaze as she sensed the undercurrent of nerves. "Doubting my big brain?" she asked, arching a sly brow while keeping her tone casual. "Like the good book says, it's all about burn time and cloud cover."

"The good book say anything about how to keep your head from exploding?" Haven laughed, though the noise sounded more strained than genuine. "Because I'm like, ninety percent sure mine is about to pop–"

"You're scared."

"You're not?"

Raven considered for a moment. Despite her fearlessness, a delicate part of her softened at the sight of her friend. While she could easily finish loading the flares on her own, there was deeper desire within her to see Haven finish the task by herself, for herself. It was a silent encouragement, a quiet belief that shimmered in the unspoken trust between them.

"I'm terrified." Raven answered, truthful until her last breath. "But we don't have any other choice."

Upon lifting her head, the girls shared a knowing glance. Haven hadn't even registered her success in securing the first flare. Then, without hesitation, she seamlessly transitioned to the second one, working alongside Raven with a remarkable combination of speed and precision.

Maybe it wouldn't work. Maybe it would explode beneath their fingertips and blow their hands to crimson ribbons. Maybe the Ark wouldn't see the signal in time and three hundred people would die. But as her fingers diligently secured the second, the third, the tenth flare–a louder thought emerged amidst the noise.

Maybe they would.

Raven, standing confidently with hands on her hips, meticulously surveyed the completed work on the ground. It was as if she were running calculations in her head for the hundredth time, ensuring every detail was in place. As the culmination of their efforts lay before her, Raven turned to her best friend. A triumphant grin, wide and infectious, broke across her face.

"Not gonna lie–I totally thought we were gonna melt out faces off."

Beside herself, Haven smiled. Her smile quickly widened into a laugh; Raven joined in, and suddenly the girls were nothing but two stars aglow with undimmable light. Laughing. Burning. Shining. The piece of herself that Haven had been missing for so long finally returned at last, and for the first time in five years–she felt whole.

"Alright, alright." Wrangling her laughter, Raven took a step back from Haven, her amused grin refusing to fade amidst the twilight. "I'm gonna tell Monty we're ready to roll. Find a good spot to watch." Before turning away, she extended a closed fist to Haven, raising an expectant brow. "Boom?"

Haven bumped her fist with ease. "Boom."

With that, they seperated.

Kids had already gathered in scattered groups, the majority positioning themselves directly behind the arranged flares, anticipation painting their faces as they sought a close-up experience of the spectacle. Meanwhile, smaller, huddled clusters formed along the treeline, opting for a more secluded spot to watch from afar.

An undeniable tension saturated their surroundings–and rightfully so. The delinquents were...indifferent to the mere beauty of the flares. While the prospect of an illuminated sky would surely evoke ooo's and ahh's, such reactions were conditional, contingent upon the success of their mission–if it even worked at all.

        The prerequisites were clear: the flares needed to function as designed, their families needed to survive the culling. Only after meeting these crucial requirements could they entertain the idea of breathing without their chest caving in.

        No fucking pressure.

        "You good?"

Haven blinked at the sight of Orion appearing beside her. Or maybe she was already there to begin with. Either way–she softened at the Vincetta girl's prescence. "Never better," she hummed, settling into place among the second row behind the flares. "You?"

"Tired as shit." Orion answered, curls tousled by the midnight breeze. "That girl put me to work carrying those thrusters back from the pod. I didn't even know I could carry something that heavy," she admitted, pausing to rub her biceps with a low wince, "or that my arms could be this sore."

"Feels good though, right?"

Orion groaned. "Define good."

"The first time I met Raven, her idea of a hangout was digging through a scrap pile for five hours." Haven recounted, eyes lightening at the memory. "We were six. Don't think I've ever been that sore in my life. I was cranky and hungry and miserable, but somehow, she made it fun." She turned to Orion with an arched brow. "So–my question to you: did you have fun?"

Orion nodded. Slowly.

"Sounds like you're good then, champ." Haven bumped Orion shoulder with her own, prompting a quick eye roll. "Raven has that effect on people."

"If she got our asses in line, she can do anything." Orion mused, undoubtedly impressed with that accomplishment. Her brown eyes gently gravitated toward the Reyes girl in the distance. With a nonchalant shrug, she added, "Plus, she's cute."

        A deafening whistle cut through the air.

Both girls trained their sights to the sky.

Vivid streaks of red and violet erupted from the launchers, soaring across the sky like seeking missles. Once they pierced through the cloud cover, they exploded into the heavens with an ichorous flame, bursting into life. The radiant spectacle not only struck the cosmos with vibrant hues, but also cast an enchanting glow that seemed to illuminate every corner of the universe.

The delinquents dissolved into cheers.

Haven's eyes widened with awe. She had never seen colors burn so brightly, so fiercely, only to die out all within the same breath. Despite the dread she lugged around like a dead body, she couldn't deny that the spectacle was harrowingly beautiful.

        Stepping out of the shadows, Clarke emerged, positioning herself between in the small space between Haven and Orion. She offered both of the girls a weary smile. "You guys did good today."

        Orion offered her a salute. "You too, Blondie."

        "You think they can see it from up there?"

Haven could recognize the presence beside her without the need to turn. She felt his warmth bleed into every one of her senses, simmering her very blood until it felt as though a sun was trying to escape her. She didn't need to turn, but beside herself entirely–she did.

Bellamy's eyes were woefully trained toward the sky. Flashes from the flares cast spellbinding glows of amber and lilac upon his skin, though it did little to soften the hardness of his features. It wasn't the typical tension he carried; there was something different, deeper.

He looked crestfallen.

"Fireworks?"

"Mhm." Bellamy hummed, lazily resting his head atop Haven's shoulder as they flitted through the pages of the history book. "Some Earthern tradition the Americans used to do every year to celebrate their independence. Kinda like Unity Day."

"Unity Day blows." Haven remarked, her eyes widening as she took in the vibrant hues of blue and emerald beautifully illustrated at the bottom of the page. "They sure look pretty though."

"Yeah," Bellamy's gaze tenderly traced the curve of her smile. "They do."

        Clarke's voice cleaved through the noise like a resounding gong. "I don't know. I hope so." she sighed, her gaze intensifying as she squinted further into the night. Another burst of light tinted the sky cherry red. "Can you wish on this kind of shooting star?"

        "I wouldn't even know what to wish for." Bellamy's voice was somber. "What about you?"

        Haven tracked Clarke's sullen gaze as it lingered toward Finn in the distance, with Raven comfortably tucked beneath his arm. The Reyes girl offered Clarke the fondest of smiles, to which she half-heartedly returned.

Next mission: KILL Finn Collins.

"Haven?"

Bellamy's voice, a gentle interruption, drew Haven's attention away from her intrusive thought. She blinked, noticing his expectant gaze, accompanied by the curious looks of Orion and Clarke. "What?"

"Your wish." He continued.

"Oh." Haven considered for a moment. With the unspoken collective wish lingering in the air, she decided against voicing the pain of what everyone was already thinking—the success of the flares. Instead, she chose something different yet equally truthful. "I wish that we'll make it through the winter. I want to see the snow."

"Cute." Orion chirped. "I, on the otherhand, wish for all of you to take a long, thorough bath in the river. Each of you fucking reek," she narrowed her eyes toward Bellamy. "Lookin' at you, King of Dirt."

Clarke snorted as Bellamy's jaw clenched, prompting a hand to fly over her mouth in embarrassment. Orion burst into an amused cackle, earning yet another snort from Clarke, which then sparked Haven to join in. Soon, the girls were an obnoxious mess of hysterics and squeals.

Something like thunder rumbled within Haven's bones, and in that moment, another piece of her steadied.

Bellamy was laughing too.

• •

two updates in the same week????? FUCK IT WE BALLLL

this chapter was SO special to me to write. i loved it. i love haven and raven!!!! i love bellamy and haven!!! i love orion and haven!!! i love everybody!!! (fuck finn) i love eveeerryone!!

not sure if its controversial or not to have bellamy end up finding the radio himself but i personally loved it. I KNOWWW characters have to make shitty choices and stick with them in order to show their overall growth in the end but this was something i thought would give him a little chance to prove himself among the bullshit 🤚

also i haaad to throw in a lil flashback at the end.

u know.

for plot!

HERES SOME CHARACTER MOODBOARDS I MADE TOO :) i'll probably make a seperate chapter for graphics and stuff later on but until then here is for the readers who have gotten this far!

HAVEN GREY SMITH

ORION JAE VINCETTA

BELLAMY (??) BLAKE