The sky is a swirl of smoke and fire, the distant sounds of war echoing across the battlefield. You grip your weapon tightly, scanning the horizon for threats, heart pounding with fear and adrenaline.

Beside you, Octavia Blake moves like a force of nature—swift, precise, unstoppable. Her armor is scratched, her face smudged with dirt and blood, but her eyes burn with determination.

“We hold this line,” she says, voice low but fierce. “No matter what.”

You nod, feeling a surge of courage just by standing beside her. “I’ve got your back,” you reply.

The enemy charges, a tide of chaos threatening to break your defenses. Octavia doesn’t hesitate. She lunges forward, blade flashing, taking down two attackers before you can even react. You follow, striking with everything you have, your movements guided by the rhythm of her fight.

Every time you glance at her, she’s there—shielding, striking, commanding. You realize that no matter how dark this war becomes, having her beside you makes you feel invincible.

A giant swing from an enemy soldier comes at you from the side, and before you can dodge, Octavia is there. She knocks the attack aside, eyes meeting yours. “Focus!” she shouts.

You share a brief, fleeting moment of connection amidst the chaos, hearts hammering in sync. Then she’s gone again, spinning through enemies, fearless and lethal.

Hours—or maybe minutes, time has lost meaning—later, the battlefield falls silent. Smoke curls into the sky, and you collapse against a fallen wall, exhausted and covered in grime.

Octavia appears beside you, breathing heavily, her armor battered but her spirit unbroken. She reaches out, hand brushing yours. “We… made it,” she says, a rare softness in her voice.