"We cannot stay here," Aleksander's voice sliced through the emotional reunion, cold and entirely focused on survival. "The impact noise was deafening, and there is blood in the air. The Grounders will be coming to investigate."
Raven pulled back from Finn, her mechanic's brain immediately snapping back to the reality of the crash. She scrambled back into the smoking pod and ripped the radio receiver from the console.
Static hissed violently through the speaker. Beneath the white noise, a faint, looping automated voice from the Ark was barely audible.
"Ark Station, this is Raven Reyes, do you copy?" Raven shouted into the mic, smacking the side of the receiver. "Come in, Ark Station!"
Nothing but static answered her back.
"They can't hear you," Aleksander stated, stepping up behind her. "We tried contacting the Ark earlier tonight. There is a localized electromagnetic jamming field covering this entire sector. You can catch fragments of their broadcast, but your outgoing signal is hitting a wall."
Raven scowled, highly annoyed that her death-defying drop had resulted in a communications blackout. But she was nothing if not pragmatic. Without a word, she uncoupled the battery pack, shoved the heavy radio unit into her pack, and slung it over her shoulder. "If someone is jamming us, I'll figure out how to punch through it later."
"Let's move," Bellamy ordered, his eyes nervously scanning the dark treeline.
As the group turned to leave the crater, Aleksander lingered behind for a fraction of a second. He looked at the smoking pod. It was a goldmine of pre-war metal, usable circuitry, and thruster components. He wasn't about to leave it for the Grounders to scavenge.
With a subtle, fluid motion of his hand, Aleksander traced an ancient rune in the air. A faint, almost imperceptible ripple of ambient kinetic energy washed over the crater, settling over the ship like a second skin. It was a subtle barrier spell. Anyone without magic who tried to touch the hull would find themselves violently repelled by an invisible, impenetrable wall.
Satisfied, Aleksander turned and melted back into the shadows of the forest, effortlessly catching up to the vanguard.
The trek back to the dropship camp was tense. Up ahead, Raven walked shoulder-to-shoulder with Finn. She was firing off a hundred questions a minute, aggressively grilling him about everything she had missed—the air, the food, the Grounders, and the survival dynamics of the hundred.
But behind them, the inner circle was closing in on Aleksander.
Bellamy, Clarke, and Monty drifted backward until they were walking entirely in step with him, forming a tight, insulated diamond with Octavia. The sheer adrenaline of the wolf attack was fading, leaving behind a massive, burning crater of unanswered questions.
Clarke kept darting glances at Aleksander's forearms, where the dark iron rings sat perfectly dormant against his skin. Her scientific mind was still reeling, desperately trying to categorize the blue and purple energy she had witnessed. Monty looked like he was vibrating with nervous, terrified energy.
"Okay, I can't take it anymore," Monty whispered frantically, leaning in close. "What the hell was that back there? You punched a mutant wolf through a tree. And your arms... there was a literal lightning whip—"
"He's right," Bellamy cut in, his voice low and tight with barely contained demand. He looked at Aleksander, his tactical mind demanding an explanation for the impossible firepower he had just seen. "You're hiding something massive, Alex. What are you?"
Octavia tensed, walking close to Aleksander's side. She didn't say a word, waiting to see how he would handle them.
Aleksander didn't break his stride. His eyes remained fixed on the dark path ahead, his Fey senses constantly sweeping the perimeter for threats.
He tilted his head just slightly toward them, his voice dropping to a silken, authoritative whisper that commanded absolute obedience.
"Not out here," Aleksander murmured, the dark promise in his tone silencing them instantly. "Keep your eyes on the trees and your mouths shut. When we reach the camp, we will go into the dropship, and I will explain everything."
He looked at Bellamy, then Clarke, and finally Monty. "And I assure you, none of you are prepared for the truth."
All three of them swallowed hard. The impossible reality of what they had seen was still fresh in their minds, but the lethal edge in Aleksander's voice was enough to keep them in line. Reluctantly, they all nodded, tightening their grips on their flashlights as they marched in silence back toward the safety of the wooden walls.
The heavy wooden gates of the camp groaned inward as Murphy and Atom pulled them open, allowing the scouting party to step back into the safety of the perimeter.
But the moment they cleared the gates, the returning group stopped dead in their tracks.
Sitting on a makeshift wooden bench near the dying fire was Wells Jaha. He was pale and clearly exhausted, but he was sitting entirely upright, speaking in a low, calming voice to Atom. Clinging to Wells's side was Charlotte. The thirteen-year-old girl was sobbing uncontrollably, her face buried in his jacket. Instead of anger or vengeance, Wells simply had his arms wrapped securely around her, gently resting his chin on her head.
He had forgiven her.
Hearing the gates close, Wells looked up. He gently detached himself from a weeping Charlotte and slowly stood, his eyes locking onto Clarke.
"Wells," Clarke breathed out. The profound, suffocating weight of her guilt instantly lifted.
She practically ran to him, her medical instincts immediately taking over. Without asking, Clarke reached out, her trembling fingers pressing directly against the side of his neck. Where there should have been a ragged, fatal stab wound and severed arteries, there was only broken skin wound and a steady, strong pulse.
Wells winced slightly, more from the phantom memory of the trauma than actual physical pain. He reached up, his fingers brushing against his own neck in absolute bewilderment.
"I'm okay, Clarke," Wells rasped, his voice thick with a mix of awe and lingering shock. He looked at her, his eyes wide. "But... I don't understand it. I remember the knife. I remember the cold, and the bleeding. I shouldn't be here. I can't believe I'm still alive."
Clarke's hands stalled against his skin. Her strict, scientific medical training had told her for days that Wells surviving was biologically impossible. The human body simply did not regenerate a severed artery in seconds.
But her mind flashed back to the dark forest just twenty minutes ago.
She remembered the ancient, heavy iron rings. She remembered the toxic, glowing blue and purple energy coursing through a boy's veins, and a localized whip of pure light that defied every known law of physics.
Clarke slowly turned her head.
A few feet away, Bellamy and Monty were doing the exact same thing. The tactical gear they were carrying hung loosely in their hands as the realization hit them like a physical blow. Bellamy's jaw tightened, and Monty's eyes widened to the size of saucers. They had seen the impossible in the woods, and suddenly, the impossible medical miracle inside the camp made terrifying, perfect sense.
It wasn't a miracle. It was Aleksander.
All three of them shot a subtle, heavily loaded look toward Aleksander, who was standing quietly near the edge of the firelight.
Aleksander felt the sudden, burning weight of their stares. He didn't flinch, and he didn't offer a reassuring smile. Instead, he simply looked away, turning his dark, calculating gaze toward the dropship, silently reminding them of his promise.
Not out here.
"Wells," Bellamy finally spoke up, clearing his throat and forcing his eyes away from Aleksander. "It's good to see you on your feet."
"Glad to be on them," Wells nodded, though his eyes drifted toward Raven, who was standing close to Finn, looking entirely out of place in her bulky spacesuit. "I take it the loud crash wasn't a Grounder weapon?"
"It was a pod," Clarke explained, taking a step back to give him space. "Raven came down from the Ark."
Aleksander didn't let the reunion drag out. The emotional relief of the camp was a luxury they couldn't afford right now. He stepped forward, his authoritative presence instantly commanding the space.
"Atom, take Charlotte back to her tent and get her to sleep," Aleksander ordered smoothly. He then looked at Wells. "Wells, you need rest. Go back inside."
Finn, instinctively wanting to remain part of the core group's dynamic, took a step forward, his hand still firmly holding Raven's.
Aleksander immediately stepped into his path, smoothly but definitively cutting him off from the rest of the leadership. Aleksander had already categorized Finn as a volatile, codependent liability. There was absolutely no way he was going to trust a boy who couldn't even regulate his own emotional attachments with the most dangerous, reality-shattering secret on Earth.
"Finn," Aleksander stated, his tone perfectly masking his tactical exclusion with pragmatic concern. "Raven is exhausted, and she took a severe blow to the head during reentry. She doesn't need to be standing around in the cold. Get her settled in one of the tents, check her bandages, and get her some water."
Finn looked at Raven, who was swaying slightly on her feet, the adrenaline of the crash finally wearing off to leave her pale and wincing. Finn's protective instincts flared exactly as Aleksander knew they would.
"Yeah. Yeah, you're right," Finn agreed quickly, wrapping an arm around Raven's waist to support her. He looked down at her with a soft smile. "Come on. Let's get you sitting down."
As Finn gently guided Raven away toward the sleeping quarters, completely oblivious to the fact that he had just been purposefully manipulated out of the inner circle, Aleksander turned his sharp gaze back to the remaining five.
Wells, Bellamy, Clarke, Monty, and Octavia were watching him, the tension radiating off them in heavy, suffocating waves.
With the liabilities successfully cleared from the board, Aleksander gave a single, rigid nod toward the heavy metal doors of the pod.
"Upper deck," Aleksander commanded, his voice dropping to a low, serious register that brooked absolutely no argument. "Now."
No one hesitated. The overwhelming need for answers completely eclipsed their exhaustion.
One by one, they filed into the dropship, climbing the metal ladder to the second level. The space was dim, illuminated only by the pale, ambient glow of the moon filtering through the high atmospheric vents.
Aleksander was the last one up. He stepped off the ladder and didn't just close the hatch—he raised a hand, his fingers moving in a fluid, complex motion. A faint, nearly invisible ripple of energy swept across the metal walls of the upper deck, sealing the room in a localized, absolute vacuum of silence.
The low hum of the camp outside vanished instantly.
Monty backed up against a stack of crates, his eyes darting from Aleksander's hands to his face. Clarke stood rigidly next to Bellamy, her medical mind screaming for a logical explanation for the severed artery that had magically repaired itself downstairs. Bellamy simply crossed his arms, his jaw tight, waiting for the Alpha Station prodigy to finally drop the mask.
Aleksander stood in the center of the room. He slowly pushed the sleeves of his dark jacket up to his elbows, revealing the dormant iron rings strapped to his forearms.
"You wanted to know how I killed those wolves," Aleksander began, his voice smooth, ancient, and terrifyingly calm in the dead silence of the room. He looked directly at Clarke. "And you want to know how a boy with a severed carotid artery is currently breathing downstairs."
Clarke swallowed hard, her voice trembling slightly. "What are you?"
Aleksander held her gaze, completely unapologetic. "I am the reason you are going to survive the Grounders."
Before Clarke could press him further, the metal hatch groaned.
Wells slowly pulled himself up onto the upper deck, his breathing shallow but his jaw set in a stubborn line. He had seen the heavy, loaded looks they had exchanged downstairs; he wasn't about to be sent to bed and left out of a conversation that clearly centered around his own impossible survival.
Clarke rushed to his side to steady him, quickly and quietly whispering what they had just witnessed in the woods—the glowing rings, the whip of pure energy, the mutated wolves tossed around like ragdolls.
Wells looked at Aleksander, his brow furrowing in profound confusion as his logical mind failed to process Clarke's frantic explanation. "That... that's impossible. What is she talking about?"
"She is talking about reality, Wells," Aleksander stated calmly.
He raised his right hand. With a simple, fluid wave of his fingers, the air in front of him rippled like water. Out of absolute thin air, a heavy piece of ancient, weathered parchment materialized, accompanied by a sleek, black quill. The parchment floated gently down, resting on the top of a metal supply crate.
The collective gasp in the room was audible. Monty stumbled backward, pressing himself against the wall, while Bellamy instinctively reached for a blade that wouldn't do him any good.
"My secret is not something I will risk on the honor system," Aleksander explained, his voice hard and uncompromising. He gestured to the parchment. "This is a contract. A Geas. By signing it, you are binding yourselves to my secret. You will not be able to speak of it, write of it, or betray it to anyone outside this room. If you want my firepower to fight the Grounders, you sign it."
They stared at the floating paper in absolute horror and awe. But the memory of the wolves was fresh, and the threat of Mount Weather loomed over them all. Reluctantly, moving as if in a trance, Bellamy stepped forward first, taking the quill and signing his name. Clarke, Monty, and finally Wells followed, each feeling a strange, invisible weight settle over their chests the moment the ink dried.
As the last signature was placed, the parchment flared with a brief flash of blue light and vanished into thin air.
Aleksander let out a slow, controlled sigh, the harsh tension in his shoulders relaxing slightly.
"I don't have a specific name for what I am," Aleksander answered, looking at the bewildered faces of his leadership circle. "But from my research, I believe I have Fey blood in me. What you saw in the woods... what healed your neck, Wells... was magic. Yes, the mythical stories you read about as children. They are real."
To prove his point, Aleksander held his hand out, palm facing the ceiling.
The air above his hand distorted, and with a soft whoosh, a perfect, crackling ball of fire ignited. It hovered inches above his skin, casting a warm, flickering orange glow over the shocked faces of the delinquents.
Monty looked like he was about to faint. Wells stared at the flames in absolute disbelief, his hand unconsciously reaching up to touch the smooth skin of his neck. The sheer reality of it was staggering, but beneath the shock, Wells felt a profound, overwhelming sense of debt. This boy, who had every reason to hide and protect himself, had risked exposing his ancient bloodline just to bring him back from the dead.
Bellamy, however, tore his eyes away from the fire and looked across the room. He noticed that Octavia was leaning casually against the ladder, her face completely calm.
"You're not shocked," Bellamy pointed out, his eyes narrowing defensively. "You already knew."
Octavia simply shrugged, unfazed by her brother's scrutiny. "I found out when I saw him heal Wells in the woods. You try staying shocked when you've already seen a glowing hand close a fatal wound."
Clarke looked from Octavia back to Aleksander, a sudden, sharp sting of betrayal piercing through her awe. She had spent the last week relying on Aleksander, sharing her burdens with him, and building a foundation of trust.
"Why didn't you tell us?" Clarke asked, her voice laced with a genuine, lingering hurt. "Why wouldn't you tell me, or Wells, first?"
Aleksander closed his hand, entirely extinguishing the fireball in an instant. He looked at Clarke, his expression remaining perfectly pragmatic. He offered a slight, indifferent shrug.
"Octavia found out by accident," Aleksander answered, his tone completely devoid of sentimentality. "I had absolutely no plans to show my powers to her, or to any of you. Exposing myself on a dropship full of traumatized, volatile teenagers was a massive tactical risk. But the situation demanded it. I couldn't let Wells bleed out in the dirt, and I couldn't let a mutated pack tear you apart."
He stepped closer, his dark eyes sweeping over the newly formed circle of trust.
"I did not keep it from you out of malice, Clarke. I kept it from you to keep us alive," Aleksander stated, the absolute authority of an apex predator returning to his voice. "But the board has changed. The Grounders are out there, and Mount Weather is watching. We are at war. And from this moment on, I am not holding back."