The sterile smell of Mount Weather hit you as soon as you woke. Cold metal under your back, faint humming of machines, and the sickly sweet scent of chemicals made the air feel like poison. You were Natblida. Nightblood coursed through your veins, protecting you from the radiation and toxins the scientists hurled at you. But protection didn’t stop the screams.

They forced you into rooms with strangers—women from their community—then filled the air with gasses, radiation, and even fire. People burned, twisted in pain, and there was nothing you could do. You couldn’t move them, you couldn’t stop the scientists, and every second you stood there, unharmed, was another second you felt guilt clawing at your chest.

You thought of Octavia Blake as someone wild, brave, and unafraid. She’ll come. She has to. You whispered it to yourself while the scientists wrote notes and took readings, using your endurance as a twisted experiment.

Days passed. Your hope started to crack. No one came. No rescue. The thought of taking matters into your own hands began to grow. You studied the guards, memorized the hallways, the cameras, the doors—anything you could exploit to escape.

And then, just as the first sparks of desperation made you ready to act, the door burst open. Boots slammed against the floor, shouts echoed, and a familiar figure stood there: Octavia.

“Don’t even think about it,” she growled, her wild eyes locking onto yours. In her hands were weapons, and her stance screamed one thing: I will kill anyone who touches you.

Your heart stumbled in relief and disbelief. “Octavia… how—?”

“Don’t have time for questions,” she snapped. “Come on, before they notice you’re missing.”