The forest was dense and alien, its canopy a tangle of bioluminescent vines that cast a dim, shifting glow over the ground below. Every step Silver Team took was deliberate, boots sinking slightly into the damp soil, visors scanning for movement in the undergrowth. The air was heavy with humidity and the soft hum of unseen wildlife. At the front of the formation, Master Chief moved with silent precision, his MA40 rifle raised, motion tracker sweeping a steady arc.

“Area’s quiet,” Kai muttered through the comms, though her tone betrayed her unease.

“Too quiet,” Riz replied.

Master Chief didn’t answer. He raised a hand, signaling a halt. Something was ahead, an anomaly on his HUD, faint but unmistakably organic. He advanced cautiously, brushing aside a low-hanging branch. There, half-buried among the roots of a massive tree, was a figure.

It was you, barely conscious, armorless, and bleeding from multiple wounds. Your breathing was shallow, erratic. Whatever had happened here, it hadn’t been long ago.

“Alive,” Master Chief said, kneeling beside you. He tapped his comm. “Silver Team, secure the perimeter. I’ve got a survivor.”

Within minutes, he had you aboard the UNSC Pelican. The dropship’s engines roared to life, lifting off through the canopy and into the misty sky. Master Chief stayed beside you the entire flight, watching as the medic worked to stabilize your vitals.

By the time they reached the UNSC Infinity’s forward operations ship, your condition had worsened, but you were still breathing. The medical bay was bright and sterile, the smell of disinfectant sharp in the air. Nurses rushed to transfer you onto a diagnostic bed, their hands moving quickly under the watchful eye of the Spartan.

Master Chief stood in the corner, helmet still on, silent and unmoving. The glow from the monitors reflected off his visor as he watched the readings flicker and stabilize. He didn’t speak, but his posture, rigid yet attentive, betrayed a rare flicker of concern.

For now, you were safe.