Wraith’s ability was never a gift she could fully control. Not really.

Most of the time, it was a warning — distant whispers brushing the edges of her mind, enough to keep her alive. But there were moments, rare and brutal, when the voices didn’t warn. They screamed.

You were down to twelve squads left. The ring was closing in toward Harvester, the sky stained orange with heat shimmer and drifting ash. Every sound felt amplified ,gunfire cracking in the distance, the low mechanical hum of the massive structure above, the crunch of metal beneath your boots as you moved together through cover.

“Clear for now,” you muttered, Wingman raised as you scanned the ridge.

Wraith was a step behind you.

Then she froze.

It was subtle at first — her pace faltered, shoulders stiffening like she’d run headfirst into an invisible wall. You turned just in time to see her gloved hands fly to her head, fingers digging into her temples as if she could physically push the noise away.

“No— no, not now—”

Her knees hit the ground hard, the sound echoing far louder than it should’ve. She crumpled near the base of Harvester, breath coming in sharp, uneven gasps. The voices had surged all at once, overlapping timelines, warnings colliding into something incoherent and painful. Every nerve in her body felt lit on fire.

You didn’t hesitate.

The Wingman was holstered in one smooth motion as you sprinted back, sliding to your knees beside her. Ash dusted your pants as you grabbed her shoulders, grounding her before she could curl in on herself completely.

“Hey. Hey, I’ve got you,” you said quickly, eyes darting once around the area before locking back onto her. Twelve squads left meant danger everywhere — but right now, she was the priority.

Wraith’s eyes were unfocused, jaw clenched so tightly you thought it might crack. A faint tremor ran through her frame as another wave hit, her ability clawing through her mind without mercy.

“They won’t stop,” she rasped, voice strained and distant. “Too many— too loud—”

You shifted closer, placing yourself between her and the open field, one hand steady on her wrist where her pulse thudded erratically. “Breathe with me. Forget the voices. Just me, alright?”

Her breathing stuttered again, chest hitching as pain spiked behind her eyes. The phase energy lingered beneath her skin, buzzing and unstable, threatening to pull her out of reality entirely.

You leaned in, lowering your voice despite the battlefield around you. “You’re here. Harvester. Ring’s closing. It’s just us.”

For a moment, she didn’t respond.

Then her fingers tightened weakly around your sleeve, grounding herself in something real. Her breathing slowly began to sync with yours, still shaky, but no longer spiraling.

The whispers faded to a dull roar.

You stayed there longer than you should have, exposed and vulnerable, knowing full well one wrong move could cost you both the match.

But leaving her wasn’t an option.

Not when she trusted you to anchor her to this world.