"Wake the others," Aleksander ordered, his voice cutting through the quiet night like a blade. "Now."
Octavia didn't hesitate. The awe of the moment completely evaporated, replaced by cold adrenaline. She gave a sharp nod, spun on her heel, and sprinted toward the center of the camp, shouting into the dark to rouse the delinquents.
Inside one of the larger canvas tents near the dropship, Bellamy was deeply asleep, his arms wrapped loosely around Roma and Bree. The exhaustion of the day's near-fatal riot had finally pulled him under. But the heavy, peaceful silence was shattered as Octavia tore the tent flap back.
"Bellamy! Get out here!" Octavia yelled, her voice bordering on panic.
Bellamy bolted upright, instantly wide awake. He grabbed his jacket and his blade, shoving past a groggy Roma and Bree as he rushed out into the cool night air. The camp was already stirring, teenagers crawling out of their makeshift shelters, rubbing the sleep from their eyes.
"What? Are we under attack?" Bellamy demanded, his eyes scanning the dark treeline.
Octavia grabbed his arm and pointed straight up. "Look."
Bellamy traced her gaze into the night sky. The fiery, burning streak of the descending pod was tearing violently through the atmosphere, illuminating the clouds in flashes of aggressive orange and white.
A murmur rippled through the gathering crowd of delinquents.
"Is it the Ark?" Jasper asked, his voice trembling with a mix of hope and fear.
"Are they sending help?" someone else shouted from the back.
Aleksander stood perfectly still at the edge of the camp, his keen Fey eyes tracking the trajectory of the falling object. His mind calculated the mass, the speed, and the burn rate. It was too small to be a dropship and too fast to be a coordinated Exodus ship.
More importantly, Aleksander knew it wasn't Council approved. Before he had been sent to the ground, he had secretly transmitted the complete, stabilized atmospheric entry blueprints and safety protocols to his parents—everything the Ark needed to bring the larger stations down safely when the time was right. If the Council was coming, they wouldn't be arriving in a single, fiery, out-of-control pod.
This was unauthorized. A desperate, rushed launch.
Aleksander's political mind instantly connected the dots. There was only one person on the Ark with the medical clearance, the access codes, and the sheer, blinding desperation required to steal a century-old escape pod and shoot it toward Earth.
Abigail Griffin. She had seen Clarke's wristband flatline, and she had panicked.
Sector 7, The Woodlands
Miles away, the silence of the ancient forest was violently obliterated.
The escape pod smashed into the earth with the force of a meteor. It tore through the heavy canopy, snapping massive branches like twigs before slamming into the dirt, carving a deep, burning trench into the forest floor.
Steam and thick white smoke hissed violently from the scorched hull. The metal was glowing red-hot, groaning under the immense stress of the impact.
Inside the crushed, claustrophobic cockpit, the emergency lights flickered weakly. Over the static-filled radio, an automated, prerecorded distress loop from the Ark crackled endlessly into the empty cabin.
"This is Mecha Station automated beacon... impact detected... awaiting manual override..."
Slumped forward in the pilot's seat, Raven Reyes didn't move to turn it off. Her heavy EVA helmet was cracked, and a thick stream of dark blood trickled down the side of her face from a severe laceration on her temple. She was completely unresponsive, knocked unconscious by the sheer, brutal trauma of the landing.
Back at the camp, Aleksander moved with absolute authority, completely taking control of the volatile situation.
He gathered the core group near the gates—Bellamy, Clarke, Octavia, Finn, Monty, Murphy, and Jasper. They were all on edge, fully aware that a crashed ship meant the Ark's politics were officially bleeding onto the ground.
"We cannot leave whoever came down in that pod out there alone," Aleksander told them, his tone leaving no room for debate. "If they survived the crash, the impact noise just rang a dinner bell for every Grounder within a ten-mile radius. We have to move now."
He reached into a heavy canvas duffel bag near the gate and tossed heavy, military-grade flashlights to Bellamy, Finn, and Clarke. They were part of the tactical gear Aleksander had discreetly secured from the Forestry Station bunker before he revealed the map to the others.
Aleksander then turned to Murphy and Atom, who were standing near the perimeter wall.
"Atom. Murphy," Aleksander barked.
Murphy snapped to attention. Earlier that night, the camp had literally tried to hang him. Aleksander was the only reason his neck wasn't snapped. Murphy didn't care about the Ark, and he didn't care about the Chancellor's laws. But he respected power, and he felt a profound, unbreakable debt to the Alpha Station boy who had cut him down and established order. Murphy was ready to follow him into hell if asked.
"Keep the gates locked," Aleksander ordered them. "Double the watch on the perimeter. Nobody goes in or out until we get back. If you see movement in the trees, you do not engage—you sound the alarm."
"You got it," Murphy nodded sharply, gripping a heavy metal pipe tightly in his hands, his eyes blazing with newfound purpose.
Aleksander gave him a brief nod of approval before turning back to the scouting party.
"Stay close, keep your lights low, and do not make a sound," Aleksander commanded, drawing his sleek karambit from his belt.
Without waiting for a response, Aleksander pushed the heavy wooden gates open and slipped out into the dark. Bellamy, Clarke, Octavia, and the rest of the group quickly fell into formation behind him, their flashlights piercing the dense, glowing fog as they marched into the deadly forest toward the rising pillar of smoke.