• •

CHAPTER SIXTEEN;

DEATH, DEATH, DEATH!

• •

HAVEN WAS CERTAIN SHE WAS HAVING A HEART ATTACK. The familiar specter of cardiac arrest loomed, where her lungs seized in her chest, and her heart—miserable and seemingly useless—sputtered, cramped, and threatened to die out. She had known this ordeal twice before, a consequence of her stenosis. Yet, this time, it wasn't the physical ailment triggering it; it was an overwhelming, gargantuan fear that clutched her heart in an unrelenting vice, like icy fingers tightening around a delicate, throbbing pulse.

        All at once, the Smith girl crumpled beneath the force of the fallen figure, a desperate pivot just enough to shield her head from the brunt of the impact. However, her bad shoulder bore the weight of the fall instead. White-hot pain tore through her muscles, her vision a distorted haze of blood and kaleidoscopic colors as she unleashed a primal shriek.

"Move! Move! MOVE!"

"Get him off of her!"

Strong hands tore the body off of Haven's torso, though it did little to dispel the agony in her shoulder or the tremors consuming every centimeter of her body. Everything hurt yet everything felt harrowingly numb, all at once. She lay shivering—unable to move, to breathe, to think.

        "OH MY GOD–she's DEAD!"

"Would you shut her up? She's not dead!"

        "Give me your canteens! Now!"

        Haven offered no resistance as the hands moved to seat her upright, positioning her against the trunk of a nearby tree for support. Voices fell on deaf ears as her limbs quivered in the throes of a relentless terror, each breath a desperate gasp.

        The blood. The blood.

        It clung to her eyelashes with every blink.

        "Haven," Bellamy's voice, fervent as molten starfire, broke through the incessant ringing in her ears. He knelt in the dirt before her, his eyes mirrors of insurmountable fear, pupils blown wide. His hand, steady yet trembling, reached out to her good shoulder, the side of her neck, her cheek. "Haven, look at me. You're okay."

Miraculously, she summoned the strength to look at him. Her vision was tainted red, eyelids oppressively heavy, yet she could see him. His freckles. The crease between his eyebrows. The dimple in his chin. The scar at the left corner of his forehead. She blinked, relentlessly attempting to clear the blood from her eyes, yearning to grasp onto anything other than the horror that clenched at her throat.

"There you go," Bellamy breathed, gently nodding in encouragement. "I'll make it go away, alright? Just–just hold on. Finn!"

        Finn, no longer a blur amidst the huddle, materialized at Haven's side with purpose. In one fluid motion, he tossed a canteen to Bellamy while seamlessly unscrewing his own with his teeth. A nod passed between them, and with synchronized precision, water flowed down Haven's trembling body, a cleansing cascade that washed away the haunting crimson tide.

        "You're good." Bellamy coaxed, though it was unclear whether he was reassuring her or himself. Breathless, he reached for a second canteen, using his free hand to stroke gently over her hair. "You're good, angel. Just take a breath."

Blood stained his fingertips, though he didn't mind in the slightest.

        Haven savored the sensation of water cooling her skin, purging her of the blood that wasn't her own. Despite the irreparable state of her clothes, a faint sense of relief lingered as her skin emerged nearly free from the gruesome liquid. Gradually steadying from her earlier tremors, her gaze, now composed, focused on the lifeless form that had been forcefully torn away from her.

       John Mbege.

Dead.

        "They use the trees." Finn breathed, his gaze fixed on the treetops in utter bewilderment. "They slit his throat up in the fuckin' trees!"

        Diggs paled. "We shouldn't have crossed the boundary."

        "Now can we go back?" Roma insisted, her eyes ablaze with dread as they flitted between the horrific gash across Mbege's throat and the haunting traces of his blood that still clung to Haven's body.

        "She's not even off the ground yet, you assholes. Get out of my way!" Orion hissed, her disdainful glare piercing the duo before she forcefully shoved past them. With a softened gaze, she extended one hand toward Haven, while Bellamy, regaining his footing, firmly grasped the other. "How bad are you hurt?"

        "I can move." Haven replied, voice like sandpaper, but mercifully devoid of the taste of blood. As the others released their hold on her, she swayed but managed to steady herself.  They each narrowed their eyes. Out of breath, she answered. "I'm fine. Just need to go like, take a bath," she heaved, "in bleach."

        Understatement of the fucking year.

        Orion grinned. "There she is."

        "Shh–there!" Jasper hushed, pointing a wobbly finger toward a distant silhouette. His spare hand tightened it's grip on his weapon. "Right there."

        Haven nearly blacked out at the sight of the figure among the trees. Though the details were blurred by the distance, the ominous weapon they held was unmistakable. Acting on instinct, she reached for Jasper's hand and tugged him close, so close that the sides of their torsos overlapped.

        She promised Monty she'd keep him safe.

        Diggs glanced in the opposite direction, voice quivering with urgency. "Another one!"

        Sure enough–he was right. The group instinctively drew closer, fear weaving them into a tight-knit circle with backs pressed firmly against each other. Their eyes scanned the surroundings with a distinct sense of dread as even more Grounders materialized from the forest, sprinting directly toward them.

"What's the plan?" Orion breathed, her hand poised to retrieve the hand-made sword concealed behind her back. A weighty silence enveloped them, magnifying the urgency in her tone. "What's the plan?!"

        Finn's answer was immediate. "Run."

        All at once, the group soared into action.

        Despite the comedown of her hysteria, Haven was the first to move, propelling herself forward with a resolute determination. Her fingers were securely entwined with Jasper's, and together, they surged with a swiftness that outpaced any speed from their past. Lungs ablaze, eyes stinging against the relentless assault of the wind, they navigated the forest with the sole need to live, live, live. The world around them blurred, a frenzied dance of speed as they raced against the encroaching danger.

        Fortunately, she employed her good arm to pull him alongside her, though even if she hadn't, she wondered if she'd register the pain at all. Adrenaline dominated her senses entirely. The discomfort from the body that had collided with hers seemed inconsequential, overshadowed by the urgent pulse of survival thrumming among the group.

        Bellamy moved as though his body had no limits.

        He initiated his sprint only after confirming the departure of the rest of the group, ensuring no one straggled behind. However, in the intensity of his pace, he unwittingly outpaced all of them. It was only when he glanced over his shoulder that he became painfully aware of Haven's absence, her presence no longer in step with his rapid stride.

Jasper was slowing her down. A lot.

        "Let's go! Let's go!"

"Keep it moving!"

"What are we gonna do?" Diggs exclaimed, breathless, his eyes darting frantically across their surroundings. "They keep heading us off!"

"Just keep running!" Finn urged.

As if to spite his words, the exertion of lugging Jasper along became an agonizing test of Haven's endurance. Yet, fueled by sheer adrenaline, she dragged both of them forward, each step a grueling effort that threatened to tear her fucking arm off. They had no choice; stopping meant surrendering to the imminent threat, rendering them as good as dead.

       "I can't run much longer!" Jasper cried, his voice strained. Beads of sweat trickled down his sunken face, and each labored breath seemed to echo the toll of their relentless sprint. "I can't–"

        "You have to!" Haven shouted, reluctantly slowing down alongside him despite her tireless effort to guide them both. She could see his knees wobble from her peripheral. "Jas, come on!"

"I'm not stopping for him!" Diggs declared.

Before Haven had a chance to respond to that, Orion seized the opportunity instead. "FUCK YOU, Diggs!" She screeched, heart pounding incessantly as she slowed to assist Haven with Jasper. Together, the two girls bore the weight of Jasper's arms across their shoulders, dragging him through the dirt as his legs gave out entirely. "Jasper, we have to move–"

"Enough!" Bellamy commanded, skidding to an abrupt halt as he caught sight of the two girls carrying Jasper. Their strain was palpable as they struggled to maintain forward momentum; Orion nearly tripped over her own feet, while Haven was wheezing from exhaustion. His heart clenched, his decision crystallized. "I'm sick of running, anyway. This ends now!"

"What are you doing?!" Finn's breath caught as he hit the brakes on his own sprint, watching in disbelief as Bellamy advanced toward the girls.

"They know where she is!" Bellamy's retort was charged, his jaw tightening with resolve as he monitored the relentless advance of the Grounders. They weren't going to find his sister any faster by running further and further away. If the only way to reach her was to go down fighting, even if he was nothing left but scarlet ribbons and broken bones–so be it. "If we don't find her–"

His heart sputtered as a hand squeezed his.

       "We will."

        Haven found herself unable to recall the moment she reached for his hand; the decision slipped through the haze of her consciousness. It seemed an inexplicable impulse amid the wreckage between them. Just yesterday, her hands wielded a blade aimed at his spine, and his hands pried a radio from hers. Everything was such a fucking disaster, and still–it was him who she reached for. As she felt the tremor coursing through his fingers, a profound certainty took root within her–perhaps the most devastating realization of all.

        She was exactly where she needed to be.

        "DIGGS!" Roma shrieked. "Where are you?!"

       Diggs, driven by a panicked whim, seemingly adhered to his earlier declaration of refusing to slow down. He fled from the scene without a word. Meanwhile, Roma's scream pierced the air as she bounded through the trees, separating herself from the rest of the group in a frantic pursuit to find him.

        Haven paled with realization.

       "Wait–Roma!"

        Just as Bellamy shifted to bolt after her, a firm grip latched around his forearm. Annoyance flickered across his features as he pivoted back, demanding, "What the hell, Haven?"

        "Hold on!" The desperation in the Smith girl's plea reverberated across the wind, her chest constricting with dread as her eyes met Bellamy's. "We need to move, but we also need to stay together. They're trying to split us up. Make us panic."

        "No shit! I am panicked!" Orion shouted. "Very, very, very freakin' panicked!"

        Undeterred, Haven pressed on, her eyes still unwaveringly fixed on Bellamy's. "It's easier to pick us off one by one when we separate."

        "But harder when we stay together." Bellamy concluded, as if a revelation had dawned upon him. With seamless agility, he swapped positions with Haven, slipping an arm around Jasper's torso. "Alright, I'll help Orion with Jasper. We'll move faster that way. Monroe can hold the center. Finn, take the lead with Haven," he commanded, his heart pulsating at an inhuman pace. "Keep your weapons ready and stay close. Let's go!"

        They ran faster than the speed of sound.

        What fools they were to believe that they could outrun those who had inhabited the planet long before they had; their optimism teetered on the edge of audacity. Yet, against the perpetually stacked odds, they pressed forward, each step a defiance of the challenges that lurked. Their journey was more than mere movement; it embodied a relentless fight—for themselves, for Octavia.

Somewhere in the distance, Roma erupted in a bone-chilling shriek.

"Roma!" Haven's urgent cry cut through the air, her lungs aflame as she pushed her legs to pump harder, harder, harder. A fleeting glimpse of the brunette's form pausing near a tree momentarily eased Haven's desperation, only to intensify it once more as Roma continued to dart through the forest. "Roma, STOP!"

"There could be more of them out there!" Finn shouted, exerting himself to match Haven's borderline supernatural pace. "We have to stay together if we want to–"

        His breath caught in his throat.

        All six of them skidded to a sharp halt.

        There, at the tree, Diggs lay lifeless, ensnared in the ominous makings of a sinister trap. Three metal spears pierced through the front of his torso, grotesquely protruding from his spine, slick with blood and carnage. Crimson rivulets oozed from his open mouth, slithering down his chin and pooling at the base of his neck. No breath escaped his parted lips, no sound echoed; he had died instantly. Yet, the blood continued to flow, as if life itself were slowly seeping out of him.

"–live." Finn finished.

Haven's entire being quivered beneath an overwhelming surge of grief. The hurricane of her thoughts became a distant echo as blood roared in her ears, gradually distorting each of her senses. It unfolded one by one, mirroring the ruthless manner in which they had been picked off and slaughtered.

"They were leading us here. It's the only direction we could run in." Jasper analyzed, slipping free from the grip of Bellamy and Orion before frantically scanning the perimeter.

        "You guys," Orion cautioned, tracing Jasper's line of sight with a pained pant. "They're gone."

Finn managed to tear his eyes away from the carnage in front of him at last. "What?" he asked, coiled like a spring, ready to sprint at a moment's notice. "Where the hell did they go?"

        Roma.

        Emerging from the grip of guilt, Bellamy's actions were fueled not by determination but propelled by the relentless surge of fear, a torrent threatening to sweep him away. He echoed Haven's unspoken thought before bursting into a sprint. "After Roma!"

        At once, the group rallied together once more.

        With every stride, Haven continually outpaced her own limits. It mattered little that her clothes clung, saturated with blood, or that her shoulder throbbed in numb agony. Bone-deep fatigue was a mere whisper against the terror driving her footsteps. Roma needed them; every ticking second felt like a fraying thread, threatening to unravel the chance of reaching her in time.

        "There she is!" Monroe's hushed voice cut through the stillness, pointing towards a distant tree. Their footsteps, synchronized and quiet, acknowledged the advantage of the Grounders dispersing. Moving in swift silence became their lifeline. "Roma!"

Roma was eerily still.

Bellamy led the group cautiously, the others slowing behind him, catching just a fleeting glimpse of Roma's shoulder behind the tree trunk. Her movements, once frantic, now embraced a peculiar calmness, as if suspended in a moment untouched by urgency. No more running. No more screaming. It was almost like she wasn't moving at all, almost as if she were...

Haven's throat clenched, suppressing a scream that threatened to unleash as she beheld the third death of the day.

Roma's lifeless body was a horrifying spectacle—impaled on the tree trunk by a wooden spear driven mercilessly through her chest. Blood, a macabre cascade, leaked from her nose and mouth, staining her pale features. Her head was twisted and slumped. But it was her eyes, frozen in an eternal state of terror, that cut the deepest.

"No," Haven's breath caught as she uttered the word. She shut her eyes, desperately seeking refuge from the unfolding nightmare, but the darkness offered no respite. In the confines of her mind, she saw them all–Atom, Wells, Charlotte, Murphy, Mbege, Diggs, and Roma. Their spectral gazes bore into her soul as if they were still present, a haunting congregation that refused to fade. "No, no, no–"

"They're playing with us." Finn exhaled, coming to a stop beside Haven, his vigilant gaze scanning the surroundings for any signs of deception.

Bellamy's hands shook with a violent tremor as he reached towards Roma's unseeing eyes. The touch, laden with remorse, was almost a silent apology as he gently closed her eyelids—an act that carried the weight of an irreparable loss.

"She only came because of me."

A profound torment rooted itself within Bellamy Blake—guilt, remorse, and grief intertwining like insidious vines. The ache of it all turned him upside down, his skin feeling as if it had been flipped inside out, the core of his being corroded by an unbearable weight. It was a cruel realization, that every misfortune in his life traced back to him. His mother's death, his sister's imprisonment, shooting the Chancellor, Atom, Charlotte, the wristbands, the radio, the culling—all of it, a devastating cascade, each tragedy a consequence of his choices. Today, three lives were claimed as casualties of his recruitment, and yesterday marked three hundred more. The burden of responsibility pressed relentlessly, an agonizing truth threatening to suffocate the very essence of his soul. No matter how desperately he tried to do right and protect his loved ones, the devastating irony persisted:

His actions only led to their demise.

Finn responded promptly, detecting the swift emergence of guilt in the features of the Blake boy. "Don't say that. They can kill us whenever they want."

        "Then they should GET IT OVER WITH!"

        All heads swiveled toward Jasper as he unleashed an exasperated torrent of shouts and profanities. His limbs quivered with restrained anxiety, an uncharacteristic surge of rage engulfing him as his shouts grew louder and more unhinged.

        "COME ON! WE KNOW YOU'RE OUT THERE!"

"No! Jasper–shut it!" Haven quipped, shaking off her momentary daze and advancing toward her friend. Orion and Finn quickly followed suit, raising a finger to their lips in a frantic signal for him to quiet down. Swiftly, Haven sought to cover his mouth, but he thrashed beneath her grip. "Enough! Stop! Stop!"

"YOU WANT TO KILL US? DO IT!"

"Fucking shut him up!" Bellamy hissed.

        "WE'RE RIGHT HERE! COME GET US!"

"Guys! Cut it out!" Monroe's cry pierced the atmosphere as she hurriedly approached the group clustered around Jasper. With her back turned, eyes widened in alarm, she spotted the resurgence of Grounders. "They're coming back!"

        The unified attempt to silence Jasper abruptly shattered, the group overcome by a gripping terror that halted them in their tracks. In a fervent frenzy, they snatched up their weapons, huddling together to form a tight-knit circle with backs turned. Each weapon poised, they assumed a defensive stance, teeth grit and knees wobbly.

Haven positioned herself between Bellamy and Orion, the blade she'd retrieved from beneath her shirt securely in her grip. Traces of Mbege's blood made the weapon slippery, her fingers leaving crimson smears on it's handle, yet her hold remained resolute.

        Grounders sprinted toward them from all directions, cornering them like a pack of cattle. She knew the odds; they were outnumbered by at least ten, outskilled by a long shot. Yet, despite the fear threatening to rise in Haven's throat, the infrangible need to protect her friends suppressed it.

        Somewhere in the distance, a horn blared.

The Grounders started to flee.

        Haven's lips parted. "What the hell?"

"They're leaving." Bellamy observed, breathless, his eyes tracking the silhouettes as they disappeared into the forest. His grip on his axe remained tense, as if grappling with the notion that they were truly gone for good.

        "That horn..." Jasper tilted his head, ears ringing as the resonant sound echoed high across the treetops. "What does it mean?"

        It was in that moment that Haven recognized it—the brassy, ominous tune echoing through the air was the same haunting melody the hunting group had heard that fateful day in the forest. It was before the desperate sprint for their lives, before being thrust into the cave, before Atom's cruel demise.

"Acid fog." Finn answered.

        Jasper's jaw hung open. "Acid what?"

        "We need to run!" Monroe exclaimed. Every fiber of her being tensed, ready to bolt at the first whisper of the menacing golden mist.

        "There's no time." Finn shook his head, hurriedly scavenging through the remnants of his pack before revealing an old tarp from the dropship. "Everybody, get down!" He demanded, hastily unraveling the tarp as majority of the group dropped to the floor. "Haven–NOW!"

        Just as Finn lifted the fabric above their heads–Bellamy snaked his hand around Haven's ankle, yanking her to the dirt alongside them with an abrupt thud.

• •

HAVEN HELD NO GRIEVANCES FOR SMALL SPACES. As a matter of fact, she often preferred them. Perhaps it was born out of habit; she was always sneaking among the library shelves on Factory. Whether avoiding her mother's presence or losing herself in the pages of a book, these compact spaces became her chosen retreats. Though squeezing into these spaces wasn't always comfortable–the sense of security within the hidden nooks and corners made it worthwhile.

        Here, however–she despised it.

        The Smith girl found herself sandwiched between Jasper and Bellamy, lying flat on her stomach beneath the vibrant tangerine tarp. All six members of the group were packed together like fucking sardines, enduring the stifling heat that accompanied the absence of airflow, a crucial defense against the looming threat of the acid fog. Sweat dripped, breaths were labored, and the intense heat seemed to dissolve their patience entirely.

"How long are we supposed to wait?" Jasper questioned, tone laced with dread and genuine curiosity. It was a fair question–last time the acid fog rolled around, he had been half-dead in the dropship.

"Will this even work?" Monroe whispered.

Finn released a heavy sigh. "We'll find out."

        Haven fought the urge to snap at him and instead focused on steadying her breathing. The deliberate rhythm of smooth inhales through her nose and gradual exhales through her lips felt torturous. Her senses were beyond overwhelmed; all she could feel were the shoulders of the boys beside her, all she could smell was the lingering scent of blood adhered to her clothes. It was nauseating, the air thick with discomfort, and her proximity to the others felt undeniably suffocating.

"No, we won't." Bellamy declared. By the fifth time Haven cracked her knuckles–his mind was already made up. In one swift motion, he jutted his head from beneath the tarp, pleasantly relieved to find no yellow mist present to melt his face off. After a brief scan of the perimeter, he signaled for the rest of the group to follow. "There's no fog. Let's go."

        Orion was the first to scramble out from the fabric, rising to her feet and theatrically gasping for air—eliciting an immediate eye roll from Bellamy. Finn followed suit, trailed by Jasper and Monroe, while Haven remained sprawled across the dirt.

        The influx of fresh air was a sweet relief to her lungs. Yet, as she tried to rise, a searing wave of agony tore through her shoulder, forcing her to crumble back down in pain. The pause from their sprint allowed her body to decelerate, and in that moment, she felt every cell in her body revolt against the toll of the exertion.

        Exhaustion was debilitating.

        "Shit, Hav," Jasper breathed, extending a hand to help Haven up from the ground. "You sure you're good to go? Maybe we can walk back to–"

        "No way." Haven asserted, steadying herself on her feet. Despite the wobbly sensation, she stood upright, and if she could stand–she could move. The rest would simply have to wait. "We've gotta stick together, remember? I'm good."

        "But–!"

        "Nuh-uh. We're staying."

        Haven's words landed with unmistakable finality, and she was suddenly grateful that Jasper refrained from pushing her further. It wasn't because she lacked the desire to argue; rather, she knew that with sufficient prodding, her resolve might crumble entirely. Briefly, the notion of retreating and locking herself in the dropship seemed  far more enticing than confronting the challenges that lay ahead. Weariness clung to her like a second skin, and her body ached in ways frighteningly unfamiliar.

        But, Octavia needed them.

       And for that–she would walk through hell and beyond.

        "Maybe it was a false alarm." Finn observed, his brow furrowing in disbelief as he squinted, scanning the surroundings for any sign of the anticipated fog.

Haven shook her head. "Doubt it," she sighed, shoving aside the migraine that accompanied that thought. "It's either there or it's not. Maybe we just got lucky."

"They're coming back!" Bellamy warned.

        Nevermind. Not lucky.

        The group stiffened at the sight of the Grounder in the distance. His massive, muscular frame spoke volumes about years spent navigating the forest for survival. Yet, as Haven studied him more closely, it became evident that he was walking...alone? Strangely, he moved in the opposite direction, seemingly unaware of the group's presence.

        "He's by himself." Jasper observed, his fingers tightly clutching the wooden weapon holstered to his belt. His gaze briefly flitted toward Haven and Orion before fixing back on the lone warrior.

"Damn," Orion grimaced. "The other Grounders don't fuck with him."

"Now can we run?" Monroe asked, the question more of a desperate plea than a casual inquiry.

"He doesn't see us." Bellamy emanated nothing short of stupid confidence as he shifted from a crouched position, only to stand with unwavering certainty. "I'm going after him."

Finn frowned. "And what? Kill him?"

"No," the Blake boy declared, his words initially offering a fleeting sense of relief before striking like a devastating uppercut. "Catch him. Make him tell me where Octavia is–then kill him."

        Haven scoffed. "What a terrible idea," she began, weariness casting a shadow over her usual fiery resolve. Despite the fatigue, her tone retained an intense undercurrent, forcing Bellamy to meet her stare. "Killing him doesn't solve anything, not if you want to keep us safe. It only puts a bigger target on our backs."

        "They killed three of our people today," Bellamy shot back, his hand sweeping across his face in visible distress before finding solace on the handle of his axe."Fuck, they dropped a dead body on you, Haven. You could've died–"

        "But I didn't." Haven interjected, her steps bringing her closer until they stood merely a foot apart. "Do you want them to kill more of us? Because that's exactly what will happen if one of his Grounder buddies finds him dead by your hands," she deadpanned. "They're smarter than us, Bellamy. Faster. We have no fucking idea what we're up against, and until we do–all that matters is that we find Octavia and bring her back safe. The rest can wait."

        The rest can wait.

Bellamy mulled over her words. As much as her reasoning made sense, he couldn't find it within himself to hear it, to absorb it. How could he? It was outrageous to expect that of him, not when Haven stood before him as a shell of a human being. Foreign blood adorned hairline, her clothes. Her unsteady swaying wasn't an act of defiance but a surrender to the toll on her weary frame. Arms crossed, not in anger, but as a tender cradle easing the soreness in her shoulder. And her eyes, God, her eyes–she was so tired; every blink thrust a dagger into his chest and plunged, pierced, twisted.

        His voice hardened. "It can't."

        Haven found little surprise in watching Bellamy depart. Through the forest, he stealthily pursued the Grounder, a silent dance she knew the others would inevitably join. Following the King was an ingrained response, a choice dictated by circumstance rather than free will. If they wanted to find Octavia–it remained their best strategy.

        "How do we know he's not leading us into another trap?" Jasper whispered.

        Finn grit his teeth. "We don't."

        "Well, that's just freakin' peachy." Orion sighed, casually looping an arm through Haven's as the group resumed their trail. "Got any famous last words?"

Haven emitted a groan, yet found herself subtly leaning into the support of the Vincetta girl, a faint whisper of relief escaping her. Too stubborn to overtly seek assistance, she allowed the unspoken support to be a welcomed comfort. "Stop. We're not dying."

"Ha!" Orion snickered. "That'll work perfect."

• •

        SOMETIMES, HAVEN QUESTIONED WHETHER SHE COULD TRULY LIVE UP TO HER OWN MYTH. In the Sky Box, Vampira was a legend, known for her apparent invincibility and mastery in outsmarting death. The delinquents speculated that her survival hinged on a heart of stone. Some feared her enigmatic prowess, most respected her. After all–who else could defy death five times?

Things felt different on Earth.

Haven found herself entangled in a relentless battle against impostor syndrome, a struggle thrust upon her without consent. The supposed fearlessness and intimidation associated with her myth clashed starkly with her reality. Down here, she felt like nothing more than an exposed skeleton, her bleeding heart laid bare through her ribcage. Stripped of strength and power, on Earth, her myth seemed to adopt a new meaning:

Vampira wouldn't succumb to death, but those around her inevitably would.

        A gentle breeze swept through the air above the six remaining of the once twenty-person search party, tearing Haven from the agony of her thoughts. Her gaze shifted upward, fixing on an avian figure perched on a distant tree. Brown feathers adorned tucked wings, complemented by a set of familiar yellow eyes and horn-like tufts.

        The owl.

        Not just any owl, but undoubtedly the same one she had encountered in the forest during their first week on the ground. The memory flashed vividly–before Bellamy nearly took her head off with his stupid axe. Haven recognized the black, heart-shaped patch of feathers on its chest almost instantly.

        "Woah," Orion breathed, undeniably captivated by the creature perched among the branches. "Ducks are awesome."

        Haven miserably fought back a smile. "Either Pike sucked at Zoology, or our brains are just mush. I thought it was a goose the first time I saw it," she confessed, a certain lightness spreading across her chest as Jasper chuckled to her right. "It's an owl."

"Oh," Orion said, her jaw hanging slightly ajar, eyes unwaveringly fixed on the sight of the wild bird. "Scratch that. Owls are awesome."

Bellamy came to a decisive halt at the front of the group, observing the owl for all of a millisecond before shifting his gaze downward. Any fascination he held for the creature seemed to evaporate, his voice dropping low. "Looks like your birdy likes Grounders."

"What–?"

Haven's muscles tensed as she intensely studied the Grounder they had been trailing. He cast a glance over his shoulder, prompting all of them to duck, before slipping into the mouth of a cave hidden beneath the foliage of the trees. The owl, perched nearby, assumed the role of a vigilant guardian, it's watchful gaze seamlessly shifting between the group and the entrance of the cave.

"Well, fuck." she breathed.

Finn shot an irritated glance at Bellamy, given that tracking the Grounder was his magnificent idea. "What now, huh? Follow him? Get eaten by whatever that is?" he huffed, sending the owl a sheepish glare before returning his gaze to Bellamy. "Or, you know, maybe we could just wait to get fuckin' speared."

Jasper frowned. "Dude."

"We're going after him," Bellamy declared, as if the decision were glaringly evident. His eyes darkened with a concrete resolve. "We can't risk losing his trail. If my sister's in there..."

"We'll find her." Haven urged, determined to dispel the heavy silence that loomed. Quiet only allowed room to overthink, and within that space, she saw only the vacant stares of three lifeless eyes. With their circumstances already painful enough, there was no time for self-doubt; they had to keep moving. "We're close. All we have to do is make it through the cave without getting caught."

Finn seemed skeptical. "You think it'll let us pass?"

        All heads swiveled toward Haven as she observed the owl in the distance. Finn posed a fair question–one that made her stomach twist with uncertainty. Last time she had seen the owl, it was hours before the acid fog descended, hours before the deadly mist had claimed Atom's life. Perhaps the creature was more of a bad omen than anything. Yet, as she stared into it's wide, golden eyes, seemingly pleading for safe passage–the owl blinked in a silent response.

        "Yes." Haven answered. "Let's move."

        With that, they were off.

        The group arranged themselves in a single-file line as they approached the cave's entrance. Bellamy led the way, Haven closely behind, followed by Finn, Jasper, Orion, then Monroe. They advanced with meticulous stealth through the foliage, sidestepping twigs and navigating around fallen logs. An unspoken understanding lingered among them – a wrong breath, and the delicate balance could shatter, plunging them into deep, deep, shit.

        Haven felt like she was decomposing. Maybe she looked it, too, considering the sideways glances she received from Bellamy and Finn. Instead of allowing herself to give in and rot–she gritted her teeth and maintained a seamless stride, each step an act of willpower.

        Living with stenosis had made her well-acquainted with chronic pain, but this experience was an entirely new realm of fatigue, of agony. Tender bruises adorned her injured shoulder and the hip bone that had borne the brunt of her earlier fall. Despite the physical toll of the day, she pressed on, determined not to let the pain distract her from the mission ahead.

        It would be worth it.

        It had to.

        Eventually, the group entered through the mouth of the cave, smoothly passing by the owl. Despite ample opportunity for the creature to swoop down and betray their presence to the Grounder, it remained still. Perhaps it would come back to bite them—literally—but, for now, the group found solace in the owl's unanticipated restraint.

Bellamy came to a sudden stop, placing a hushed finger to his lips as a signal for silence before proceeding deeper into the cave. The darkness was profound, rendering the Blake boy nearly invisible; Haven could only distinguish the blurry silhouette of his face.

        Suddenly, her mere aversion to the dark intensified into a fervent hatred. In the open, moonlight could at least provide some illumination, but within the cave, there was nothing but impenetrable darkness. The rocky walls were tight, near suffocating, accentuated by eerie teal shadows that danced in unsettling patterns.

Beside herself, Haven cautiously edged closer to the boy in front of her. A momentary sway betrayed her exhaustion, but she hurriedly regained stability by clutching onto the sleeve of Bellamy's jacket.

A resounding crack echoed.

They group froze.

Bellamy instinctively nudged Haven further behind him before reaching for his axe. His grip on the weapon was tight, so tight that he felt as though the wood might splinter within his palms. As he prepared to investigate the noise, another sound pierced the air—an impactful thud landed upon the cave floor, accompanied by the stomach-churning rattle of chains.

At once, Bellamy broke into a sprint, abandoning all sense of caution in the dust he left in his wake. His foosteps echoed as he charged towards the origin of the noise, propelled only by urgency and fear. Haven was quick to bolt after him, fluidly retrieving her blade, while the remainder of the group raced closely behind.

        "Bellamy?"

        Time seemed to dissolve at the familiar sound of the voice. Just as they rounded the corner, Bellamy came to an abrupt stop, as if immobilized in depthless shock at the sight of the girl before him.

        Octavia Blake found herself shackled against the weapon-clad cave walls. Her once-flowing hair now hung matted and dirt-laden, a testament to the harsh conditions she endured. Traces of dried blood adorned her forehead, chin, cheeks, fingers. To her right, a small rock stood as a solitary companion, while to her left lay the unconscious body of the Grounder.

        As the rest of the group emerged from behind her, Haven exhaled in bittersweet relief.

        She had knocked him out cold.

        "Octavia!"

        Bellamy flung himself toward his little sister, his legs giving out beneath him as he crumpled to the floor and hauled Octavia into his embrace. His calloused hands tenderly rubbed the back of her head, fingers entwining with her matted hair. as she nestled against his shoulder. It felt as if a fragment of his very being had been restored at last, flourishing in the joyous revelation that she was alive, alive, alive.

"Get the key." Octavia urged, drawing herself away from her brother not out of desire, but out of necessity. She gestured toward the metal object, it's gleam catching against the cave floor.

Nodding, Bellamy sought out the key, his hands shaking as he frantically fumbled to steady it. With a quick puff of air to remove the debris clinging to the metal–he thrust it into the lock at Octavia's wrists and twisted.

"Monroe–watch the entrance!"

        As soon as Octavia was liberated from her shackles, she catapulted herself toward Bellamy once more, surrendering entirely to the comfort of his strong arms. Delicately, he helped her stand, his hands never straying far. The siblings clung each other as if bound by cosmic glue, embracing with an intensity so powerful, so fierce–it was a marvel that neither of them burst at the seams.

        "It's okay," Bellamy breathed, "You're okay."

Haven's demeanor softened at the sight of the Blakes' reunion. All at once, everything fell into place; her shoulder seemed to ache less, her lungs welcomed a full breath, and the fatigue she lugged around became undeniably, irrefutably worthwhile.

Finally breaking apart from Bellamy, Octavia's unsteady steps led her to Jasper, Haven, and Orion. Despite her fatigue, a surge of unexpected strength allowed her to envelop all three in a tight embrace. The trio responded in kind, their relief manifesting in a tangle of limbs and glimmering smiles. "How did you guys find me?"

Jasper grinned at the Blake girl, gesturing toward the Grounder who remained motionless on the stone floor. "Followed him."

        Haven's eyes honed in on the Grounder, finally absorbing his formidable presence. It felt strange to see him up close after trailing him for so damn long. Cloaked in a warrior's garb of animal fur and leather strips, he appeared far more imposing than he did within the forest. His closed eyes bore parallel stripes of black paint, while blood delicately streamed from a wound on his temple. Based on the array of weaponry stashed upon the cave walls, and the singular cot to the left of him–he appeared to live alone.

        "Told ya," Orion whispered, scrutinizing the man with a shared sense of unease. "The other Grounders don't fuck with him." Her brows pinched as she noticed Finn hovering dangerously close to the fallen warrior. "Uh–spacewalker? What the fuck are you doing?"

        Finn assumed a crouch on the ground, his fingers nimbly delving into the contents of the satchel attached to the Grounder's belt. "Snooping," he deadpanned. "Would you keep it down? We don't want any wake-up calls."

        "He's right. We should go–now," Octavia panted, the poor girl helplessly out of breath. She glanced at the Grounder with wide eyes before briskly heading in the direction the rest of the group had come from. "Before he wakes up."

"He's not gonna wake up."

        Bellamy's tone was harrowingly cold. By the time Haven looked in his direction, he had already snatched a large spear from the Grounder's weaponry. His knuckles turned white, the wood groaning under the force of his grip, teeth clenched in a display of tense ire.

        So much for happy reunions.

        "Bellamy, stop!" Octavia cried, recognizing the stormy glint in his eye just as quickly as Haven had. With frenzied steps, she stomped straight toward him, desperate to thwart his impending move. "He didn't hurt me," she insisted. "Let's just go!"

"Not a good look, Blake..." Orion started.

"Don't! Bellamy–please!"

Bellamy shrugged them off, wrenching his gaze from his intended target and inadvertently setting upon Haven. That's how they always seemed to find each other, after all–in a fleeting glance, temporarily suspended in a moment of time. Guilt ravaged through his conscience as she firmly shook her head, as if daring him to falter.

The rest couldn't wait.

Haven tensed as Bellamy continued his death march. Every muscle in her body resumed its state of hyper-vigilance, her bones aligning with a familiar surge of dread. The wild look in Bellamy's eyes left her uncertain if she could stop him in time—or if he'd even listen to her. So, instead–she bolted towards Finn, seizing him by the shoulders in a frantic attempt to haul him out of harm's way.

"They started this," Bellamy seethed, the spear in his hand a lethal pendulum as he prepared to strike. "Finn–move."

"Bellamy–stop!"

"Don't do it, man."

        "Look," Finn's breath caught as he unveiled a final item from the satchel, utterly captivated and seemingly undeterred by Bellamy's threat. His gaze met Haven's with wide eyes, slowly raising the object to her line of sight. "Foghorn."

Haven inhaled, her frail lungs inflating for all of a heartbeat before all hell broke loose.

In an eruption of ferocity, the Grounder exploded from his position on the floor, his fist a lethal missile homing in on the unsuspecting pair. With surgical precision, he unleashed a devastating punch that struck both Haven and Finn, their bodies plummeting to the ground with an earth-shattering thud.

       Haven, grappling with the unyielding rock below, fought to elevate her head, bracing herself on her elbows amidst the disorienting aftermath. The world felt off-kilter; her ears reverberated with a ringing echo, and her vision danced in a blurry haze. A subtle trickle down her temple went unnoticed amid the urgency of the moment. Frantically, her gaze darted toward Finn, only to witness the Grounder driving his fist toward him once more.

        This time–he was holding a knife.

        "FINN!"

        Summoning every ounce of strength, Haven thrust her arm upwards in a futile attempt to deflect the Grounder's swift assault. His speed transcended comprehension, a relentless blur that further distorted her vision, obscuring the blade's trajectory from her sight. The Smith girl couldn't see as the metallic edge sliced across the tender skin of her forearm.

        But, she could feel it.

        Haven's anguished scream cut through the chaotic turmoil, the searing pain tracing rivers of tears down her cheeks. But there was no room for self-pity, no respite to tend to her own agony. By the time her vision cleared again, Finn's head now rested in Octavia's lap, the knife's handle cruelly protruding from his chest. A dark bloom of blood spread around the wound, saturating and staining the fabric of his shirt at an rapidly alarming pace.

She wasn't fast enough.

        "STOP!" Octavia shrieked, glossy eyes trained over Haven's shoulder. "THAT'S MY BROTHER!"

Terror swelled within Haven, constricting her throat, making every breath feeble. She swung her head towards the cave's opposite side, only to have her breath stolen entirely by the heartrending sight.

        Bellamy lay pinned on his back, defenseless as the Grounder loomed over him, effortlessly reclaiming his spear and aligning it menacingly at the Blake boy's throat. With his teeth gritted in exertion, Bellamy clung relentlessly to the spear's end, his every sinew strained as he fought to push the lethal threat away, away, away.

        "No–NO!" Haven shouted, defying the torturous protests of her muscles as she forced herself to rise. Each step was a grueling effort, the pounding in her head threatening to turn her vision into a constellation of stars, yet she pressed on. He was going to kill him. He was going to kill him. With a shaky resolve, she withdrew her blade, her legs wobbling as she approached the Grounder from behind. "BELLAMY!"

        "HAVEN!" Orion screeched. "On your left!"

        Instinctively, Haven ducked, channeling every last fiber of her strength to hurl her blade toward the Grounder's back. It found its mark just above his shoulder blade, prompting him to whirl around–only to collide with a sizable piece of wood slamming into his skull.

        Jasper had knocked him unconscious.

"Holy shit!" Orion's breath came in jagged bursts, her chest rising and falling with an overflow of pure adrenaline as she assisted Bellamy to his feet. "You're alive!"

Beneath the ethereal glow of the cavelight, Bellamy stood as a fallen star, his breath catching in the aftermath, a fresh sheen of sweat shimmering on his skin. Purposefully, he strode toward Haven, leaving a trail of orders for Orion in his wake. "Go help with Finn," he started, his voice strained as his airways opened once more. "And don't let them take the knife out!"

Haven anchored herself against the cave wall, her weight leaning into it's support to alleviate the burden of standing. Pathetically, her palm pressed against the wound on her forearm, a futile attempt to staunch the bleeding. As Bellamy drew near, the tension in her shoulders eased. "Are you–"

"Fuck, Haven." Bellamy hissed, fully absorbing the sight of her. Quick as a shadow, he ripped a strip of cloth from the hem of his shirt, casting a wary glance over his shoulder before delicately removing her hand from the injury. Fortunately, it wasn't deep, but the length of the wound was unsettling. "I tried to stop him," he breathed, shaking his head in remorse. "I tried–"

"I know. I'm okay." Haven asserted, though the galaxies swirling in the space above Bellamy's head suggested otherwise. She winced as he hurriedly applied the makeshift bandage against her skin. "We have to go."

Bellamy's voice lowered. "Did they see?"

"No," Haven whispered, her gaze briefly flickering toward the remaining members of the group cradling Finn's limp body before gravitating back to the boy in front of her. Anxiety pulsed between them as a shared heartbeat. "I-It's too dark in here. They couldn't have."

        Bellamy released a measured sigh, tearing off another strip of cloth and frantically holding it to the second wound on her temple. Blood seeped through the fabric in seconds, staining his fingers in a familiar shade of black.

"Let's hope you're right."

• •

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH IM SCREAMING AND NERVOUS POSTING THIS

LET THE REAL PLOT BEGIN🖤🫣

another long chapter that agaaaain could've been split into two, but i wanted to put it all out at once. long chapters are my favorite to write :) but u guys!!! u literally don't understand how fucking excited i am for u to read what's coming next!!

as always, THANK YOU for the comments and love!! i write for you and you only!!!

LOVE U 4EVA EVA <3

7.7k words 😚