The mission was supposed to be simple — scout an old underground tunnel for supplies, then head back to camp before nightfall. But the ceiling gave way, dust and stone crashing down until the path behind you was nothing but rubble. Now, the air feels heavy. The flicker of your torch only makes the shadows around you sharper. You cough the dust from your lungs, realizing there’s only one other sound in the darkness — Octavia Blake’s ragged breathing

She’s already on her feet, blood trickling from a cut at her temple, dirt smudged across her face. She kicks a rock, testing the blockage, before muttering a curse under her breath

“We’re trapped,” she says, her voice low but steady. Her eyes flick to you, sharp and unyielding, but beneath the warrior’s mask there’s a flash of something else — worry

The silence stretches. The air is thinner than it should be, and the darkness presses in like it wants to swallow you both whole

“You alright?” Octavia finally asks, her voice softer now. Her hand hovers close to yours, like she’s not sure if she should touch you — if reaching for comfort makes her look weak