Chapter Text
“Fucking witches,” Indra muttered under her breath.
Aden raised an eyebrow in amusement from his grumpy guard’s statement while Gustus, his other and no less grumpy guard, groaned in agreement.
The mood was due to aforementioned witches requesting the attendance of him, and wherever he went these days his two guards went as well.
“We have more pressing concerns, Heda,” Gustus said out loud. “Bloodreina and Queen Nia move against you.”
“We owe the witches a lot, and we are rarely summoned by the Flamekeeper,” Aden reminded his companions. “We will hear him out and then return promptly. Anya is keeping an eye on things regarding our friends .”
“Yes, Heda,” Indra said, sounding very much against his reasoning still. “But we don’t have time to be summoned by the bald one… Nia has been encouraging an uprising against your leadership and he makes it easy for her with this summons!”
They were right to be concerned, Nia had a history prior to his own that was infamous. She only ever yielded to Lexa, and now that Lexa was no longer with them, her aggressions were becoming bolder. The United Vampire Coalition was facing insurrection from within.
“Flamekeeper Titus was loyal to Lexa.” Aden paused his walk, turning to his two trusted Generals and helping them understand why he was answering Titus’s call. “She trusted him and she taught me the importance of keeping the witches on our side, their power would help us – we do not need to be dealing with the witches and Nia as well. As for Bloodreina… She is too young and naive a leader to worry. Nia will take care of her.”
From his words, Indra and Gustus seemed to simmer down, nodding in agreement. He felt some satisfaction that they understood his line of thinking – he was Heda for a reason, after all. Then again, if Lexa made a decision they would have never questioned her ‘why,’ they would all trust her reasons.
He was still earning his right to lead, every day.
Lexa had always told him, know your enemies and know your friends and then fear will not dictate your agenda.
One hundred and Ninety-nine years had passed since Lexa’s death in The Lycan War, and by tonight it would be two hundred. She had united the vampire factions against the common enemy, and it was only natural that without Lycans attempting to kill them anymore the fighting would turn inward to those who desired power.
He was worried about Octavia, despite what he told Indra and Gustus. While a young vampire born after the war, she had arrogance and even Lincoln had followed her when she left their ranks.
He was terrified of Nia, however. ‘Queen’ Nia was clever and her hunger for power wasn’t the same kind of hunger Octavia held, who was satisfied with her own gang and independence. Nia wanted the empire – she wanted what Lexa had, wanted every vampire following her lead. And she never showed her hand, so whatever she was plotting would come from years of experience Aden did not yet have. It bothered him greatly, knowing she was going to do something but not knowing when or how. She had more faithful followers than he realized as well.
Yet, despite his fears, Lexa had taught him well and he remembered every single lesson as her deputy: appear strong when weak, and weak when strong. Indra and Gustus need not know he shared their concerns – they needed his certainty and clear-headed thinking, and he needed the witches to confirm their continued allegiance with him as Heda in case Nia made a move.
It was the only reason he rushed when Titus called. He, like many others, strongly disliked Titus’s company. He was an annoying man – exceedingly so.
“We’re here,” Aden announced to them. His longsword, a silver enchanted blade Lexa had left for him to secure his reign as Heda, glowed brightly by his side. It only responded to him and no other, like all sacred weapons enchanted for their owner. As a blade for the future Heda, it was reinforced with a spell that glowed brightly to let him know when witches were nearby.
Gustus and Indra eyed his blade’s glow, curiously looking around for where exactly ‘here’ was.
It had been hours of trekking through the winter forest, suddenly the whtie of snow and frost-tipped trees disappeared and they were transported to a cave where a large stone gate opened before them.
Indra and Gustus drew their blades out in defense, but Aden smirked and sheathed his back into scabbard.
“At ease. This is how I met with Titus when Lexa took me in, that was their security.”
Indra and Gustus listened to him, placing their swords back away as well.
“Fucking witches,” Indra repeated, lowly. Her fangs were now extended in irritation and Aden approached the slowly opening stone gate.
“Let’s be on our best behavior. Titus does not trust Nia either,” he said, pointedly.
“Sha, Heda,” Indra and Gustus said formally in response, fangs retracted. The doors finally creaked open, and Aden stepped forward first.
The man waiting for them was not Titus.
“Heda Aden,” he was greeted by Monty Green, one of the most powerful witches known of all time – the very same witch that had slain an impressive ten Lycans at once with his attacking magic. It took on average two vampires to even subdue one Lycan, but only one witch to kill a Lycan. Witches and magic were incredibly powerful and since the end of the war, they were also extremely rare to meet, preferring to keep themselves with their coven locations.
Lexa had been a product of both. A rarity, an anomaly, or as Nia called her, ‘an abomination.’ Whatever she was, she was the only reason the witches had ever followed her lead. She had been one of them, somehow a vampire who could wield magic, and unfathomably powerful in her magic as well.
She had taken out over ten thousand Lycans before her death, more than any witch or vampire combined.
“Green!” Gustus stepped forward enthusiastically greeting Monty with a hug and boisterous laughter. “It has been so long!”
Monty was much shorter, and it was amusing to see him engulfed by Gustus’s size and even more amusing to see the rare feat of Gustus smiling at all.
“You as well, Gustus,” Monty smiled after the hug before giving Indra an equally bright grin. “Indra. Thank you all for coming.”
Indra grunted, but Aden could tell that even she was happy Titus was not the first person they saw.
It seemed their displeasure of witches had changed it’s tide considerably now that they were meeting one who fought side by side in battle with them (who was not annoying).
The Lycan War had been terrifying, and Aden still bore a scar on his back from the claws of one that had very nearly taken his life. Indra, Gustus, and Anya had barely saved him in time… And the last time he had seen Lexa was when she had used a spell to heal his wound.
Sleep, Aden. They will all need you to be strong. The words haunted him still.
“Come my friends, we have been eagerly awaiting your arrival,” Monty said, leading them down the entrance to the coven as the stone gate closed magically behind them.
Aden shared a knowing glance with Gustus and Indra before following behind Monty. Having Monty greet them was concerning, and he became impatient to know what was going on. Whatever this was about, it would seem the summons must have been critical after all if a warrior witch was called to attend.
They entered a sparse room, enrobed witches standing around a table. A war table.
“Heda, please join us.” Titus requested, lips grim as he gestured before him.
Titus was standing opposite him at the table, surrounded by some of the most powerful witches known in the realm. Aden knew them all by name: Monty Green, Harper McIntyre, Raven Reyes – The Deputy Flamekeeper, and Jacapo Sinclair. Titus Andromedon had been a Flamekeeper for five hundred years, which was as long as Aden had been a vampire.
The witches were an immortal race that shared the same realm as vampires, races that had lived in peace for thousands of years. .
Titus was preceded by Flamekeeper Rebecca Franko, a witch who lost her life before Aden was sired. She had managed to force the Lycans into their own realm long before they escaped and sought war. Lexa never spoke of those times, always keeping their focus on the present and future. When asked she would simply say ‘it helps no one to dwell on the past.’
Lycans were terrifying creatures, over ten-foot tall beasts that looked like deformed wolves, their claws could parry with swords. They came from another realm, and sought to conquer and kill. They communicate telepathically amongst themselves, and their king was a beast over twenty feet tall with unquenchable bloodlust and eyes red.
He had killed Rebecca, one of the most powerful witches of all time, by decapitating her head long before The Lycan War, and he had killed Lexa with his claws ripping through her chest when their Heda sealed the passage between their realms to end the war.
Lexa was the one who created an alliance with Titus after Rebecca’s death for the following centuries so they could defeat the Lycan King and his uprising to save their kind from extinction and protect the human realm they were connected to from following a similar fate. Aden had been sired to fight in the war, and groomed to lead after it.
But the pains and loss of the war still shadowed everything he did to this day. Whatever the coven was using a war table for had his sudden dread.
“We have much to discuss, and I fear it is a matter of urgency. Thank you for coming,” Titus said, face stern.
Despite Titus’s flaws and unlikeability, he believed in Lexa because of her magic abilities. He revered her like a God, and all witches listened to her without questions when she had been alive.
Aden stepped forward to the table, Gustus and Indra flanking him. They all lay their swords before them on the table as a gesture of peace, and the curiosity of what was happening got to Aden.
“Flamekeeper of the coven,” Aden addressed Titus respectfully. “Why do you call us here?”
“Heda Aden,” Titus replied back seriously. “Before we share our purpose for calling you here… we require that all of us present at this table partake in a vow of silence on the subject to be discussed.”
Aden paused, feeling the tension radiating from both of his guards.
A vow of silence meant whatever was discussed could never be shared outside of this meeting, it would be a magic spell that compelled them to secrecy.
“What could possibly require such a vow?”
The vow meant that even if he wanted to, the magic would prevent him from speaking it. It meant if one of them was tortured for information, it could never be shared.
“Something that we need your help with but can not be disclosed unless the vow of silence is taken.” It was Harper McIntyre who spoke up this time, her tone very clear and commanding.
Aden contemplated the consequences - it was a show of good will that Indra and Gustus had been invited as well. It meant the secret to be shared would not be fully burdened on his shoulders alone.
“Very well,” he gave permission. “Indra? Gustus?”
“We are with you, Heda,” Gustus said simply.
“Yes, Heda,” Indra agreed easily.
“Let us all link hands,” Titus lifted his as well as the other witches seated at the table. Aden felt Indra and Gustus grip his hands tightly. Vampires were naturally reluctant to magic as it was one of the few things that could kill them.
“Ai swega klin shofplei,” Titus started the spell in ancient language. “Ona wamplei.”
I swear silence unless death .
Aden felt the magical electricity jolt him and everyone around them, an orange mist enveloping the table in a bubble.
He had not breathed since becoming a vampire many centuries ago, but the shock of the mist entering him was like taking a deep breath after being underwater.
The glow from his chest remained as everyone dropped their hands, indicating the spell was active.
“Lexa is alive,” TItus said.
And that, of all things, Aden had not been expecting.
//
//
Clarke hated the mud, scowling as her boots sunk into the filthy ground, slowing her escape down.
Considering the circumstances, she had no choice but to ignore the mud clinging to her and ducked into an abandoned building. There were the distant sounds of fighting and yelling, and all Clarke focused on was survival.
The war had changed quickly against her side. While administering aid to the wound of a fellow Arkadian soldier, the Mounan enemy had advanced and forced her and her comrades to flee while killing the wounded she had been trying to save. Three men were set upon her, swords at the ready with murder in their eyes and she supposed the mud was somewhat of a camouflage.
How was she to escape this?
“We know you’re out there, Arkadian!” One called. “Come out and maybe we can negotiate a reason to keep you alive, eh?”
Clarke made sure she was hidden, thinking of her options. These men were not likely to negotiate, they had murdered the others with her.
From her hip she raised her crossbow. She had exactly three arrows left – she just needed to use them wisely.
A small cough startled her and Clarke whirled around with her bow aimed at the sound, frightened until she saw merely a pale, young woman clutching her bleeding side against the shadowed wall behind her.
She was young, no older than Clarke herself, and wearing odd clothing – black cloth of a material akin to leather. Nothing in her attire showed allegiance to either side of the war.
“I heard something!” One of the men called out, and footsteps rushed toward them.
Clarke weighed her options, seeing the light glint of green eyes staring back at her curiously. Deeming the stranger nonthreatening, she turned her back to the injured woman and peeked out of some broken rubble.
She took a single breath, aimed and spotted the three men with their rifles poised, approaching the building. They had no clue she had a vantage point or that she was armed.
With an exhale, she pulled the trigger. Reload, pull, reload, pull.
Three bodies thudded in the distance, sinking into the mud. Each arrow had entered right between their eyes. She exhaled in relief and wiped the nervous sweat from her forehead before turning to regard the woman.
The woman had brown hair, and she was lovely. Beautiful features that seemed delicate… she didn’t seem like she belonged in a warzone.
Clarke cautiously kneeled before her, noticing the woman didn’t seem afraid of her at all, either. Maybe she was used to death.
“Who are you?” Clarke asked before repeating herself in Mounan, in case the woman was on the other side.
After a long pause the woman spoke.
“Lexa. My name is Lexa.”
“I’m Clarke,” Clarke told her back. “You’re Arkadian?”
“No,” Lexa said.
Confused, Clarke tried to place the accent. “Mounan?”
“No,” Lexa’s lips quirked into an amused smile. “You are a good shot, Clarke.”
Clarke felt a blush grace her cheeks. “Thanks… I’m the best in my infantry.”
She winced at her tone, hating how it was boastful.
“Well done,” Lexa seemed a bit amused now, and Clarke felt silly because – wow, this woman was attractive.
Hesitating, she pointed at the bloody area Lexa was covering with a hand. “I can take a look for you, I have medical qualifications as well.”
“Oh,” Lexa leaned back, seemingly impressed. “I’m not sure you would be able to help with this.”
Clarke gently lifted the cold hand up, ignoring her, and inspecting the wound. It was getting dark and harder to see for sure, but she was experienced enough to make an assessment.
“You were stabbed?”
“Yes. It’s very painful,” Lexa specified while sounding like she was absolutely fine, as if contemplating the weather.
“I’ve never seen anything like this,” she told Lexa, peeking closer at the singed flesh and the dark, blackness of her blood.
Clarke was impressed – she had seen many wounds and Lexa wasn’t even breathing her pain. In fact… she wasn’t breathing at all.
And her blood was black.
“Your blood – it…”
“I am not human, Clarke,” Lexa told her simply.
Clarke had already realized it by then, but the peek of a fang over Lexa’s lip made it certain.
“You’re a vampire,” she whispered, pausing her hands. “Are you… are you going to kill me?”
The little Clarke knew of vampires was they needed blood to survive and heal. One of her cousins had been drained of blood before Clarke was born. Vampires were known, but rare creatures encountered these days. Rumors were of a time they hunted humans for sport.
The last place Clarke thought she would find one was in a battlefield.
“I will drink from the men you killed, that should help me to heal, thank you.” Lexa said simply. She could hear the rush of Clarke’s blood. “No need to fear me, Clarke.”
And for some reason, Clarke did not.
“What were you stabbed with?” She asked curiously, retracting her hands from the wounded area and standing. She offered a hand down to Lexa, pleased when the vampire accepted it and stood up.
“An enchanted blade,” Lexa told her cautiously walking towards the dead bodies in the mud. “I was stabbed by a witch… I followed her trail to this area.”
“Damn,” Clarke made to look away as her new acquaintance dropped to her knees and raised a wrist to very sharp looking fangs. Witches were more of a myth than vampires, but she had seen magic as a child once, a witch stopping a village fire. She always knew it existed.
She peeked over to see Lexa’s progress on drinking. It wasn’t as messy as she imagined, and much quicker too. When Lexa had drained as much blood as she wanted from her body, there was a light rosy flush to her cheeks and drips of blood around the corner of her mouth. Her eyes glowed a brighter green than before, and she stepped towards Clarke.
“Thank you for your aide, Clarke.” She stood up, using her thumb to wipe knowingly at the blood.
“A witch, huh?” Clarke asked her, glancing down at the pale corpses of men she had killed. “That would be handy in war.”
“What warzone is this?” Lexa asked her, looking around. “She fled south of here.”
“The Arkadia and Mounan border,” Clarke told her. “South of here is Maunon territory. I know the area well.”
Lexa looked at her for a long moment. She covered her hand over her side and gave Clarke a nod.
/
Clarke woke up from her dream, scowling at the bitter memory of a warzone from so long ago. Almost six hundred years had passed since then.
“Are you alright?”
Clarke flinched, sitting up and looking for something to numb her memories. Numb the loss.
She grabbed the tequila by her bedside and took a swig of it, scowling at the sunlight peeking through her black curtains.
Sun didn’t kill vampires, but it was an irritating light. They preferred the night – better sight. In their realm the weather was different from the human realm’s sun. Daylight didn’t have the same UV nuisance.
“You’re still here?” Was what she answered to Niylah’s question.
She reached for a pack of cigarettes next. Vampires couldn’t breathe them, but the burn was satisfying to initiate the act and the nicotine was a pleasurable vice.
Niylah sighed, very much used to Clarke’s passive aggressiveness. “Spare me the act, Griffin. Coffee?”
“Tequila,” Clarke responded, taking another large sip. “You can go back to yours.”
Griffin .
It was her name, given by her human family at her human birth over six hundred years ago… When she had become a vampire, like all Vampires she took a blood oath with a clan. Only one name, no surname.
‘Griffin’ was how she lived these days, red dyed hair and alone. Niylah was one of Octavia’s Bloodreina high-ranking members, and Clarke’s access to any and all narcotics she fancied. Niylah had no clue who Clarke was, nor did Octavia’s gang, and Clarke intended to keep it that way.
No strings. She was too burned out for those these days.
She did odd jobs for Octavia, and tugged someone into her bed when she was lonely enough, and she dreamed her memories. Always memories, never fantasies.
“Come on, Griffin–”
“I think I made it very clear I don’t like sleepovers, Niylah,” Clarke reminded her.
Taking her tequila with her, Clarke slammed her small, pathetic apartment door behind her. She tugged some sunglasses on, and decided she may as well find a snack.
She saw a young human boy taunting a girl by the bus stop and paused, smirking. He would do just fine.
/
“Why do you always come back here?” Clarke asked the darkness of the hospital room, sitting up with a struggle.
The window was open, revealing how Lexa had entered under the radar.
“You’re dying,” Lexa sat in the chair next to her.
Clarke sighed, leaning back into her pillows. “It’s a hemorrhagic fever… They call it Red.”
There is silence for a long time. It’s something Clarke has come to adore about her vampire friend: Lexa is thoughtful. She doesn’t waste words.
“Do you want to die?” Lexa finally asks her, gently reaching forward to touch Clarke’s hand on the pillow.
“No,” Clarke told her acquaintance. “But that is out of my hands, Lexa.”
The silence returns for a long time until Lexa quietly admits, “but not out of mine.”
“What… what are you saying?” Clarke looked at the hand on her own. Lexa was soft and warm – she had just fed before her visit.
“I can sire you to be one of us, a vampire.”
It was an enticing offer – to have the strength she had seen Lexa use as they entered Maunon territory together. Agility, enhanced strength… immortality…
To not feel so meek from her fever and die alone. Lexa was the closest thing to a friend Clarke had these days, her family and loved ones lost to the rampages of war when she was but a child.
Ever since their fateful adventure, where she joined Lexa to hunt down the witch that stabbed and betrayed the vampire, Lexa had always made it a point to come and find her every month for a chat. She had been more frequent as of late, sensing Clarke’s decline in health perhaps.
Or just as lonely as Clarke (and just as attached, too).
“I must warn you,” Lexa told her, brushing a thumb across her knuckles in a way she had never dared to before. “You would have many more years but we would be going into another war. We fight with an enemy that threatens our very existence…”
Clarke swallowed, thinking of her life and the alternative Lexa was bringing to the table.
“I’ve been fighting my whole life… at least this way, I have something to fight for.”
//
She needed a drink. A whole lot of drink.
“Griffin!”
Octavia was always in her nightclub, her leather vest with ‘Bloodreina’ pridely embroidered on her back. The Wonkru Gang all wore vests to show their allegiance, and Clarke had declined when offered. They weren’t her style.
“Bloodreina,” Clarke greeted her, politely.
“I got a job.” Octavia was always straight to the point.
“How much is the pay?”
“Ten thousand credits before, thirty thousand after.”
Clarke paused – Octavia rarely offered that much. She must be hoping Clarke would agree to something bigger than a simple heist job.
Octavia was a younger vampire – a mere hundred and eighty years old – but she was thirsty and hungry for power. Clarke didn’t mind making some credits by helping her steal from Nia’s trade routes. That was a bonus, she had always hated Nia.
Nia still wore the white fur of a rare Lycan boastfully when everyone knew her kill count hardly deserved it. Clarke had earned her name ‘Wanheda’ for taking out 924 Lycans in the war, second only to Lexa who Clarke had teased didn’t count on account of her ‘magic bullshit.’
Vampires like Octavia had been sired after the war to restore the numbers of vampires who had died during the onslaught. She was skilled in her fight against other vampires but she was still too young, didn’t understand real leadership.
Over the years, Clarke had watched the changes in the human realm. It was amazing, the wars that came and went, the governmental changes, the political movements, and the technological advances.
Guns. If guns had existed during the war, surely her kill count would have been even higher. Maybe they could have stood a chance.
Humanity has grown a lot since her time as one. Human life was fleeting, and vampires needed their food source to thrive.
“What’s the job?”
“It’s with me,” Octavia told her. “There’s a shipment of blood, eight-million credits worth on a train line heading to Nia.”
That was a huge haul, and one that showed Octavia was looking to poke the bear.
“That would require at least a team of ten,” Clarke warned her.
“I got a crew together,” Octavia told her. “You in?”
Pissing off Nia that much sounded worth it. Rumors had it the old miserable bitch was moving against Aden, and Clarke could almost guarantee the new Heda could use some help distracting her.
“I’m in.”
“I’ll transfer you tonight, Griffin. In the meantime, enjoy some free drinks tonight!”
Clarke grinned, and turned her gaze to the bar. Her breath caught in her throat when she saw the brown hair of a female moving towards the dance floor but then the body turned and it was so not Lexa. That sober feeling returned and Clarke looked around for another hunt.
There was a man and woman – humans. Clarke had used them before, a married couple that enjoyed vampire company and she needed blood. She grabbed a bottle of whiskey from the bar and approached them.
“You two,” she yelled over the music. “Want to grab a room upstairs?”
They nodded instantly, following her up the stairs. Clarke ignored Niylah’s intruding gaze as she lured her prey to a feeding room. She tossed the cap of the whiskey away and drank half the bottle by the time the door was closed behind her.
/
Clarke cautiously stepped forward, careful as Lexa’s back hit the wall in an attempt to keep space. But now Lexa had nowhere to run. She looked afraid.
“Why do you deny this, Lexa?” She asked, her eyes pleading with Lexa to stop avoiding her.
“I…” Lexa ‘s fangs were loose, and it intoxicated Clarke. Lexa never lost control. As a newly sired vampire, Clarke found herself bolder for her carnal desires – and the attraction she had felt for Lexa before was becoming more powerful.
She used her hands to cup Lexa’s face and leaned forward, their lips barely brushing. She could hear the pounding of Lexa’s undead heart, the racing of the black blood in her veins.
“It would be selfish of me,” Lexa had whispered.
But Clarke had given up so much in her life, she was not about to give this up. And she pressed her lips to Lexa’s for the first time, groaning when her fangs split a lip and she got her first taste of the unique black blood that ran through Lexa’s veins.
“Don’t we deserve this?”
She knew nothing else could ever compare when Lexa finally kissed her back.
/
It was late at night, the planned time for the heist, and Clarke was enroute with Octavia’s crew for the biggest heist. Niylah, Murphy, Jasper, Lincoln, Bellamy, Finn, Fox, Miller, and Maya – all skilled vampire mercenaries.
Octavia was at least smart enough to use the best of her crew.
“Griffin, who turned you?”
Lincoln was the one who asked, and Clarke answered carefully. He didn’t know her well, but they had met three hundred years ago during a battle plan, briefly. He had been a skilled archer. She didn’t want to blow her cover in case he was still in touch with Anya, his sire.
“A vampire called Jackson,” she lied to him easily. “He died in the Lycan war.”
The last sentence didn’t hide her resentment of the fact, and Lincoln seemed to buy it.
“I remember that name,” Lincoln said. “Brave man. He was sired by Cl–”
“We’re here,” Octavia told them all, cutting Lincoln off. “Bellamy?”
“On it.”
Bellamy had been Octavia’s human brother and her first sire when she was turned, an odd thing amongst vampires. Clarke jumped out of the convoy with them, relieved that Lincoln could go back to minding his own business.
She had sired Jackson, not the other way around. He had also been killed during the Lycan war, a Lycan biting his head off.
Flashes of the war still haunted her – Jackson’s gruesome death was just one of many unfortunate circumstances that day.
Clarke shook her head, trying her best to ignore the pains of the past.
It was the middle of winter, and she was looking forward to a quick grab and go, and then helping herself to a freshly warm-blooded human after this heist was over.
“Let’s grab the haul quickly and get out,” Lincoln reminded everyone. “We can’t leave any hints this was your heist, Octavia.”
“I’m not afraid of Nia knowing it was me.” Octavia confidently said.
“You should be,” Clarke surprised herself by saying, earning curious looks from everyone. She clarified, “hey, I am all for a good payout and pissing her off – but you don’t want her coming after you yet. Don’t give her a reason.”
Octavia looked about ready to retort, until Lincoln spoke up again, suspicious eyes on her.
“We’ve met before–”
Oh shit .
Clarke was cursing her slip up until a roar, as if fresh from her nightmares, greeted them.
That roar could not be mistaken, it reminded her of war and loss. It was a roar she heard before Jackson was killed, before her other sired vampires were taken from her…
It was the echo of a roar before Lexa left her.
It was the roar of a Lycan.
/
“Listen to me,” Lexa brushed Clarke's hair delicately from her face, “the portal needs to be closed. Malachi is sending another army of twenty thousand through.”
“Why aren’t they here already?” Clarke winced, pain all over her body from the last kill.
“The coven is offering some protection but less and less, they have not rested and the numbers are too much. They’re exhausted.” Lexa explained. “Can you stand?”
Clarke nodded, letting Lexa help her up to her feet.
“What’s the plan?” She grit her teeth, asking through the pain.
“Your bow?” Lexa asked her.
Clarke reached to her hip, pulling out her bow. Lexa had enchanted it for her, allowing it to harness unlimited arrows. Lexa plucked it from her hands/
“I made a spell for you Clarke, promise me you’ll keep fighting no matter what happens?”
“Lexa–”
“Promise me,” Lexa begged her quietly as other vampires yelled around them.
“Yeah, of course,” Clarke promised, her voice heavy with concern.
Lexa closed her eyes and spoke some words that caused the bow to glow with a blue mist in her hands.
“What was that?” Clarke asked her.
Lexa placed it in Clarke’s hands. “You can make this into any weapon you need it be, Clarke. Just think and it will answer to you, and only to you.”
“The portal is opening, Lexa!” Titus yelled across the battlefield. “We don’t have time!”
Lexa grit her teeth, and gave Clarke a desperate look, clearly torn to leave her side.
“I need to go,” Lexa said. She had a look in her eyes, and Clarke felt dread coil in her blood.
“Wait – Lexa –”
Lexa covered her hands over the bow, she kissed Clarke’s lips and whispered the last words she would ever say to her.
“I’ll always be with you.”
/
“A Lycan!” Lincoln screamed out to them, frightened but alert.
Clarke watched Octavia raise her gun, shooting at it. The bullets did nothing, they weren’t enchanted silver, and the Lycan’s claws had already killed Jasper with a brutal slash before howling out at the rest of them.
There was screaming and chaos as claws injured and impaled , and Clarke felt her fury call to her.
The loss these beasts had caused her – her friends, her comrades…
Lexa.
She ran by Octavia and grabbed her sword from her hands, jumping on the back of the Lycan and slashing down it’s spine. It howled in anger and turned its attention to her, extending its claws out in a vicious attack. She rolled away from it, her fangs out as she hissed back at it, throwing the sword into its eye.
Octavia’s blade wouldn’t kill it or harm it for long enough, so she raised her hand and for the first time in two hundred years she called out to her weapon.
The bow flew through the air and into her palm, summoned to her side. She took a shot, fatally hitting it’s eye. Then she took out the other eye, and then the neck. She didn’t stop until it’s corpse lay on the snow with no possibility of survival, arrows all over the corpse.
“How did you do that?” It was Niylah who asked her when she had stopped shooting, and Clarke paused. Her hatred had consumed her in that moment, and she turned around to the stunned faces of everyone.
“You’re her,” Lincoln whispered out at last in recognition. “You’re Wanheda.”
Clarke didn’t bother denying it. The secret was out.
“Clarke,” she clarified, introducing herself at last. “The name is Clarke.”
//
//
“Lexa swore us all to secrecy until the time was right,” Titus explained. “The Lycans were breaching the portal en masse... She was only able to subdue so many of them – and she didn’t want to see any of us die more than necessary. We all aided her in a spell for temporary peace.”
“How can she be alive?” Gustus asked. “We saw her seal the realm’s portal behind her as the Lycans attacked! The bastard king’s claws were ripping her apart!”
Aden was wondering the same thing. Lexa had been immensely powerful, but she knew unless the portal was closed, millions of Lycans from the other realm would keep coming and they would stand no chance. She had to be on the other side to seal it as they found out after the act had been done, and the Lycan King’s anger at being denied his revolt was taken out on her and her alone.
It had been Clarke’s scream of agony that caught their attention just as the portal closed – Lexa’s blood spilling over her chest where he had stabbed her before she was gone forever, sealed behind the realm.
“She sealed the portal, yes, but there was no way to seal it forever. Her spell was for two hundred years and as of today, midnight, the last year is up. We have already sensed a breach as some Lycans will start to find their way through the realms and it will continue to grow until we end this once and for all..”
The silence following Titus’s statement was unnerving.
“So the portal is open again?” Aden feared the truth, the screams and roars of the Lycan still haunted them all. “Why would you never disclose this sooner! We could have increased our numbers, sired more vampires!”
“No!” Titus slammed his fist down. “You do not understand! The only reason the Lycans even exist is because too many vampires were sired in the first place!”
“What does that mean?” Aden demanded, more confused than ever.
Raven interjected. “I have the power of foresight. I could foresee the outcomes, there was no need to cause undue panic.”
“These are the Lycans we are talking about!” Aden could still feel his own insides being ripped apart from the claws a Lycan dug into his back. “They mean to eradicate us all! And you’re telling me they have Lexa held prisoner if she survived!”
“We are not sure what her situation on the other side is or how she managed to survive at all,” It was Jacapo who spoke for the first time, the oldest of the coven present – even older than Titus. “The spell we came up with required much from all of us present… We can feel it drawing power from us daily, and her physical body on the other side was our catalyst in the other realm keeping it together. She didn’t need to be alive for that, yet Raven foresaw her survival only recently when there was a breach in the portal.”
“As the spell drew closer to an end,” Raven explained. “I could see her, weak but alive – somehow! What we need to help her – help us all, is The Key.”
Aden closed his eyes, thinking over everything he had just found out. It was all too much and yet not enough either.
“How?” He finally asked, the hope sincere in his question. “How is this ‘key’ to help us?”
“The Key is an anomaly, a Nightblood like Lexa,” Titus told him solemnly.
“Nightblood?” Aden’s eyes narrowed at the foreign word. “What’s a Night–”
He paused, knowing of Lexa’s black blood.
“The Key is like her, a vampire and witch with black blood?” The thought gave him some hope – if there had been more vampires with abilities like Lexa, they stood a chance against The Lycans.
“Correct,” Jacapo said. “Nature creates forces to balance the oncoming evil, and This Key is what can finally help us be free of The Lycan threat.”
“Why this vow of silence? We need our whole army on this now! The Key should have been with us, training to fight!” Indra was as emotionally stunned as him and Gustus, and Aden wondered the same thing until he met Raven Reyes' eyes and the answer came.
She was a highly intellectual witch, a fortune teller as well which was a powerful and unique weapon for the witches.
“There was a traitor among us,” Aden spoke out loud, eyes narrowing on Raven. “And Lexa knew it too. The only way the portal would have ever opened to our realm in the first place was if a vampire and witch had opened it, breaking the first seal.”
“Yes… I see why Lexa chose you as her successor, Heda Aden.” Raven appraised him, stepping up to face him. She smirked. “The first seal was placed by our former Flamekeeper, Rebecca Franko. The Lycan War happened because a traitor from our coven and a traitor or traitors from the vampires working with The Lycans opened the seal. Lexa’s seal bought us these two-hundred years to find The Key that could finally kill the king and his army.”
“Why would a witch betray the coven for a King that wanted you – us – all dead? Why would one of our own?” Aden was curious, not understanding why traitors would side with an enemy that sought their extinction when all other vampires had set their differences aside to fight the common enemy.
“A good question,” Titus murmured. “Raven?”
“She thought it best we only shared this when the time was right,” Raven continued. “Lexa wanted to buy time until the next anomaly
, but if she is alive that changes things. Her power and The Key together could not only seal the Lycans but eradicate them all. The traitors amongst you are unknown, and the vow of silence assures that if the traitor is anyone of you you can not speak of it.”
“We would never!” Indra roared, fangs threatening the very notion.
“I will find the traitor and give them a death so painful!” Gustus’s anger roared with her.
“My gamble lies with Nia,” Indra seethed.
“Whomever it is, knows of The Key and we can’t risk assuming anyone. We have been looking for The Key, and we have some ideas from magical surges that the child was born in the human realm. It would be a child of six years old, and that is all we know. Male or female. We need you to protect it and deliver it to this realm so we can prepare to permanently seal the portal.”
“ Born ?” Aden wondered, confused. “But it’s a vampire and witch – should it not be sired?”
Raven explained. “The child was born because of Lexa’s magic bloodline, like all Nightblood, just as Lexa was born thousands of years ago. It would be immensely powerful regardless of its age.”
“Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait ,” Aden was trying to understand. “Lexa was… born? Not sired?”
“Born.” Raven looked curiously at them, and then seemed to realize. “Oh I see, she truly did take many secrets to her grave.”
Before Indra could speak her mind, Raven waved her hands before them as her eyes turned solid white, a green mist entering Aden’s nostrils, mouth, and ears as his mind saw what Raven was showing them.
Another man, black blooded with an army of millions of vampires slaughtering…
“Lycans?” Indra’s voice voiced the confusion they all had from these images.
And yet these were not the same height of Lycans as before. They were smaller, more easily defeated, with less evil in their eyes.
“Heda Malachi, was born a Nightblood over one thousand years before Lexa, and he killed without remorse… He feared the prophecy my ancestor Rebecca Franko foretold, of another black-blood born Vampire being loved by all, learning magics he could not, and uniting the realms.”
They saw a small baby, born of light in the coven.
“Malachi was born with darkness in his heart and jealousy for the Nightblood who was not him… he wanted to rule all the realms and vowed to kill all Lycans who refused his rule. It was genocide. Lexa was our heir and salvation to end Malachi’s rule. I was not alive then, but the coven had friends among the Lycans. It was devastating to lose an entire civilization.”
Rebecca Franko casts a spell on Malachi, forcing him and all his sired vampires to be trapped in the Lycan realm, sentencing them to their own hell.
When Rebecca cast the spell, there was a problem – Malachi had convinced one of the witches, Lorelei Tsing, to work with him. Together they used a counter spell that resulted in him and his sired vampires to become what are called Lycans today.
“So the Lycans as we know them…They used to be vampires.” Aden whispered as the mist left them, the visions of the past disclosing history Lexa never shared. He was speechless.
“And their King is Malachi, a powerful and ruthless Nightblood.” Raven revealed. “To answer your questions, why some of our own would betray us – it is because like Lexa, Malachi is a vampire and a witch. Those who wanted power supported his vision to conquer. Lorelei Tsing was overlooked as Flamekeeper when Rebecca was selected by the coven. For her cause in the War, Lexa hunted her down and killed her, but was unable to find out who else she worked with.”
Aden felt his hands tremble.This was too much information for him to fully control his emotions. He wanted blood, and he wanted vengeance for his Heda.
“The three of us will help,” he whispered, fiercely angry with this new truth. “What do you need from us?”
//
Clarke loved this, the quiet mornings watching Lexa sleep. Her eyes memorized every inch of skin they could, mapping the muscles on Lexa’s back and the tattoos she had accumulated over the years.
Her fingers touched the circles, delicately watching Lexa’s eyes blink awake.
“Hi,” Lexa shifted from her stomach to her side, facing Clarke.
There was this fondness Lexa always regarded her with, a soft adoration that she gave no other. Clarke felt special.
“What are those tattoos on your back for?”
“They’re etched by the coven,” Lexa told her. “They help me focus my magic power…”
Clarke held Lexa’s eyes, curious.
“Why do you have magic when other vampires do not?”
Lexa didn’t answer right away, but she did answer. “I’m part witch, Clarke. We don’t understand why the universe births us but a Nightblood Vampire, like myself, is born. That is why my blood is black.”
“Who was before you?”
This time Lexa deflected to answer. “Can we talk about something else?”
She was adorable when she tried to change the subject, which propelled Clarke to kiss her.
“What was that for?” Lexa asked gently, smiling after the kiss.
“We don’t have to talk at all,” Clarke offered suggestively.
They lay in bed, heads huddled together and silk sheets barely covering their hips. Clarke watched Lexa’s predictable appreciation of her form before she smirked.
“What?” Lexa presumed innocence. “You’re tempting me.”
Clarke hummed, using Lexa’s shoulder to encourage her to turn over from her stomach to her back so she could be on top of her hips. She loved having Lexa like this, loved the way Lexa gripped her hips in anticipation.
“Me?” She presumed innocence. “Tempt you?”
Lexa sat up, grinning as their lips touched. Clarke lost herself in the kiss.
/
Clarke stepped forward, inspecting the dead Lycan body. Each enchanted silver-arrow tip in the Lycan was shimmering under the moonlight, the effect of light.
She kneeled, fingers tight on her crossbow. The Lycan’s body eventually turned to ash, withering away from the enchanted silver.
“Holy shit! ” The one called Murphy finally said, his voice cracking.
“Clarke,” Lincoln said softly, taking a knee next to her and touching the ash of where the Lycan had passed on. “How is this possible?”
“I don’t know,” Clarke should have been afraid, like the other vampires were when she stood up and turned around to face them. Even Octavia looked terrified at what she just witnessed.
Instead of fear she was angry.
“Do you have any Lycan-killing weapons?”
“My sword,” Lincoln nodded. “If it’s here in the human realm–”
“--then our home might be under attack too,” Clarke finished for him. “I need to go see Aden.”
/
“What are you doing?” Clarke whispered, not complaining.
It was simply unlike Lexa to seek her out for a hug, especially when there was a war to figure out. Lexa was just holding her, so Clarke allowed it, even returned the gesture.
“I just want to be selfish, before the fighting begins,” Lexa inhaled her in, sighing like she was relishing Clarke in her arms for the last time.
“We got this, Lexa,” Clarke promised her. “You told everyone we were going to win, that the fight was worth it, Raven foresaw it.”
They had just convened the plan for tomorrow, which areas to cover. Clarke knew lives would be lost but the fight was guided in their favor.
“I know the plan will work,” Lexa assured her, not disputing the fact.
Still, something felt off, but Clarke assumed Lexa was just worrying about her.
“I’ll be careful – I’ll take them out from my vantage point. Just focus on your fight. They don’t call me The Lycan killer for nothing, you know.”
Lexa had to chuckle at that, her lips against Clarke’s neck.
“I know I don’t say it often, Clarke,” Lexa’s hands lifted up from her spine to cup her cheeks as she took a step back, her eyes glowing green and showing a pained emotion. “But I love you.”
Clarke grabbed the wrists of her lover and pressed their foreheads together. “I know you do… and I love you too.”
It felt necessary to kiss her, so Clarke did. In the hundreds of years Lexa had loved her – she never felt the depth of it until this moment.
Lexa needed her and she would do anything for Lexa. They were meant for one another, Clarke was sure of it.
There were tears, salty from Lexa’s eyes as they kissed. It wasn’t the first time she had seen Lexa cry. Their first night together had offered her that insight, that vampires could cry at all and that Lexa was capable when emotionally invested enough. But it was the first time Lexa’s tears showed pain and not relief.
Not knowing why Lexa was in so much pain, Clarke kissed her back in an attempt to soothe her. And in the morning, when the slaughter happened and so many of their comrades, friends, and family were lost to the Lycans, she understood.
Lexa had known she was going to die, and Clarke hated her for it. Loved her, hated her, and grieved her every moment since.
/
“Who the fuck is she?”
Clarke could hear Octavia asking Lincoln in a hushed tone, as if Clarke didn’t have vampire-hearing.
“She’s The Clarke , Octavia. She killed many Lycans during the war, lost all of her sired – she was Wanheda! She was Heda Lexa’s houmon.”
“Wait, what?” Niylah was the one who sounded more shocked now, and the implication that the younger vampire was upset about that bothered Clarke.
She had been very clear they could never be more than the occasional fuck.
“Lincoln, where is the closest portal to Polis?” She asked Lincoln.
“A temple, a mile from here,” he responded to her instantly. “You didn’t know?”
“I came from the South,” Clarke explained, impatient with the waiting around. “Haven’t been back for a while. Take me to the portal.”
He nodded, and Clarke ignored the bitter look Octavia sent her, watching her houmon and sire follow Clarke easily without asking permission first.
//
Anya jumped down from the trees, her longsword catching the right angle of the Lycan beast after Ryder had distracted it.
After a few moments, it turned to ash, signaling it’s true death.
She looked up, catching Ryder’s fearful eyes.
“We need to send word to Heda,” Anya said.
“H-how is this possible, Anya?” Ryder asked her. “They were to be gone.”
“I don’t know,” Anya answered him honestly. She looked at her blade, scowling at the Lycan blood tainting it after so many years.
Many vampires, of the few hundred left from that time, kept their enchanted swords off their person. She had never, and she was glad for that.
“Anya!”
A shout of urgency took her attention away from her sword. She looked up to the top of the hill of Polis.
“What is it?”
“Lincoln has brought the Bloodreina back here…” Nyko came before her. “Wanheda is with them.”
That could not be a coincidence. A Lycan and Clarke showing up on the same day?
“Any word of Heda?” Anya followed Nyko, Ryder flanking her other side as they moved quickly.
“He is on his way.”
/
Clarke had never meant to return to Polis.
The long arches of the compound, the stone pillars… the flowers.
Lexa loved flowers.
Polis had been the realm’s capital for Vampires and Lexa’s home ever since she had met Lexa. A throne sat proudly in the center, more for show than use, but she can still picture Lexa sitting there with her legs crossed and a cup of rare otter blood from the human realm. Sipping and contemplating, sometimes twirling her knife.
“The Bloodreina and her crew,” Anya’s voice cut into the memory, and Clarke gripped her bow, turning around to see the other vampire. “The new-age vampires.”
“You’re General Anya,” Octavia stepped forward, holding her spine straight and not relenting under Anya’s gaze. Behind her, her crew from the heist who had come with them in urgency stepped forward as if showing their leader's support – except for Lincoln who stayed standing where he was.
Lincoln could not disgrace his sire and mentor, Anya, that way. Instead he hung his head and kneeled – shocking even Octavia.
Anya looked behind her, “Lincoln.”
He stood up, the tensions of his departure ignored because of the urgency of the matter.
“Anya.”
Clarke waited until Anya finally made eye-contact with her.
The last time Clakre had seen Anya, the woman was crying at Lexa’s funeral.
She offered a stiff smile to Clarke now, as hard to read as ever. “Two hundred years and you show up, just like that.”
Clarke could only shrug. “Two hundred years.”
Everyone is quiet around them – even Clarke wasn’t sure if Anya was going to hug her or punch her for disappearing.
“The red hair is not a good look, Clarke,” Anya finally said, her voice uncharacteristically soft. She extended her arm and Clarke blinked as tears threatened to spill form her eyes, clasping it in their warrior solidarity.
“Yeah, well, you’re still rocking the bottle blonde I see.”
Anya grinned and then tugged her forward into a hug – one which Clarke returned in kind. This time she let the tears fall. She had been so lonely for so long, it was nice to be back home.
She should have come back sooner. They had been through hell and back together, and lost a lot. It was easier for Clarke to walk away after the war, and she knew her family would understand. She stepped back from Anay and wiped at her eyes, before getting down to business.
“I just killed a Lycan in the human realm,” Clarke’s eyes glanced down at the familiar smell of Lycan blood on Anay’s clothes. “They attacked here too?”
“Yes.”
“Where’s Aden?”
“Titus summoned him.” Anya raised her eyebrow to the sulking Bloodreina crew awkwardly watching their reunion. “What are you doing hanging out with them?”
“She was going by a different name and doing jobs for me,” Octavia almost bragged, cutting in.
Clarke rolled her eyes.
“They know me as Griffin. I needed some credits and it was fun ruffling Nia’s feathers. They were with me when the Lycan attacked.”
Amused, Anya jerked her chin to Ryder and Nyko who were quietly standing by. “We were just attacked in the south.”
“Ryder,” Clarke smiled, happy to receive a warm smile in return.
“Clarke, we missed you.”
Clarke was about to greet Nyko as well but he looked down. She knew why, one of the vampires lost had been one of her sires whom Nyko was very close to. She had opted to leave after the war instead of sticking around for the cleanup.
For now, she kept her sights on the immediate threat.
“We need to know what’s going on,” Clarke spoke to everyone, anger boiling in her veins. “The portal was permanently sealed, why are they resurfacing and how? It can’t be a coincidence that there was an attack in both realms and Aden was summoned by the coven.”
“Look, Lincoln has told me about Lycans. We can help fight – we need to fight to protect our crew,” Octavia spoke up again.
“Even if you wanted to help, you can’t right now,” Clarke told Octavia.
“What do you mean?”
“She means you need to have an enchanted silver weapon,” Lincoln explained. “And we need witches and silver and time to make them. They cannot be truly injured or killed by any other weapon.”
“Except for magic,” Ryder spoke up.
“Right, of course,” Lincoln added. “Or a witch’s magic.”
“Then let’s make some fucking weapons,” Octavia said, clearly not liking how little she knew or how little she was in control.
“I can help with that.”
Clarke froze, hand gripping her bow.
“Hey there, Clarke,” Aden’s voice carried over, capturing everyone’s attention. Clarke turned to look at him reluctantly. The last time that they had seen one another it had not been pleasant. She expected to see the same disappointment in his eyes, and was surprised to see something else.
Something apologetic.
“Heda,” she offered a smile.
He was different two centuries later, immensely confident and authoritative of his people. Everyone stepped aside and let him walk forward, and she knew Lexa would be proud.
“Thanks for being here,” he was close now, and Clarke inhaled sharply when he hugged her.
The relationship between vampires was so different from humans. Family was found, and Aden had been nothing short of a little brother to her. Someone she cared for deeply.
She hugged him back, and the first real genuine smile on her face in centuries came out.
“Missed you too,” she whispered to him.
He had tears shimmering in his eyes for the barest moment before he cleared his throat and extended his fangs.
“I’ve returned from seeing The Flamekeeper and the coven,” he told everyone. “They will arrive later today to aid in the forgery of new weapons. Anya will be in charge of the battle deployment. Clarke, I need your aide to accompany me to visit with Nia and confirm a temporary alliance for this threat.”
“Me? Not Indra or Gustus?” Clarke was surprised at this.
Aden glanced meaningfully back at his two charges before telling her, “they have another immediate concern.”
Clarke was confused – there was something he was not saying.
Aden looked at Octavia and her crew with calculated eyes before stepping forward.
“Bloodreina, we hear of your fighting abilities… will you join us to battle the Lycans? We can discuss your independence after the war is over.”
Octavia looked at Lincoln, no one missing the urging nod he gave her before she relented.
“Sure,” Octavia said. “We have more fighters we can bring as well.”
/
The threat of war was exactly how Clarke remembered it: anticipation and adrenaline.
“What are you having Indra and Gustus do so secretly?” She asked Aden as they trekked through the icy forest. It got closer to the north part of the realm where Nia and her followers had taken over.
“I can’t tell you,” Aden replied.
Clarke was a little hurt at that response. “I know I’ve been gone for two hundred years, Aden, but we have been through hell and back together. I would never–”
“I know that, Clarke,” he grabbed her shoulder and tugged her to face him. “I know that. What I mean is, I literally can not tell you.”
Clarke was still confused.
“The coven had us take a vow of silence on the matter. I just need you to trust that it’s essential for this war.”
“Oh,” Clarke had heard of those vows before. Lexa had told her of a time when she was young and the coven vowed to keep her magic a secret until she was one hundred years old.
They kept trekking in silence. After a few minutes, Clarke scoffed.
“This war. Again. I can hardly believe it.”
“Me either,” Aden agreed. “Hey so, I’ve been meaning to ask you… what have you been up to..?”
“For the last two hundred years?” Clarke finished his question.
“Yeah, that,” Aden smirked as they came up to the clearing.
“Just… existing. Trying to find the point of it all…” Clarke said.
“And the red hair?”
“DIdn’t want to be recognized,” Clarke laughed at him. “We’re here at the clearing.”
Aden grinned before his lips turned more serious. “Don’t let Nia get under your skin.”
“God you sound like Lexa,” Clarke meant it as a joke, but the fondness creeped through.
Aden rolled his eyes. Once they were at the clearing, they could use vampire speed to make it the rest of the way. The forest had too many trees to anticipate if another Lycan attacked.
“Beat you there,” Clarke taunted him.
“Not a chance.”
/
“Gustus, stop it.”
“Sorry,” Gustus was distracted from the smirking human boy that walked by him, all seductive eyes and swaying hips. “The human realm has changed.”
Indra rolled her eyes. With them, the deputy Flamekeeper Raven Reyes was laughing. She had accompanied them to find the Key, using her foresight and magic to lead them like a compass.
It seemed they had ended up in a part of the human realm with a lot of loud music.
“The magic is strong here,” Raven told them, pausing outside of a nondescript building with Christmas lights and laughter from inside.
Indra stepped forward, shoving the door open with her foot. The patrons inside all stopped laughing, staring in shock at the intruders.
“We mean no harm,” Raven stepped forward. “Who is the owner of this place?”
“Who’s asking?” A woman with spiky blonde hair stepped forward, arms crossed. “And if you mean no harm, why are you barging in here?”
“We’re here for the girl,” Gustus could sense another vampire in the area, and his fangs extended. Indra hissed with him.
“Hand her over.”
“Oh my god,” Raven, who could read the thoughts of the woman – who was already trying to figure out how to hide the child they were seeking – facepalmed at her companions' lack of tact. “Forgive them, please. My name is Raven.”
Raven used magic to quickly project into the woman’s mind – what they were here for and why.
The women gasped after a few seconds, tripping backwards. “What the fuck was that!”
“The truth,” Raven said. “We mean her, this young Madi, no harm.”
“She’s,” the woman gulped, looking at her freaked out comrades. “She’s the reason none of us starve, you know?”
“We’re all orphaned kids,” another boy spoke up. “We found her, and she always gets us food.”
Raven nodded. “And thank you for keeping her a secret and keeping her safe… and I am sorry, but we need her more.”
WIth another wave of magic, Raven paused everyone except herself from moving. She kneeled by a cabinet and cautiously opened it.
Inside was a young girl, holding her knees together and fear in her eyes.
“Madi,” Raven reached forward, hesitating when the girl flinched.
The Key, this Madi, had a lot of raw power. Raven didn’t want to scare her. She created a ball of light with her hand, showing her powers.
“I’m like you, see?”
Cautiously, the girl’s body relaxed and she watched the magic with awe before raising her hand and doing something similar.
“Can I tell you how and why I found you?” Raven asked next, hope clear in her eyes.
Madi nodded, and Raven pressed a fingertip to her forehead, letting the girl read her mind.
/
“Two hundred years and Clarke has finally returned to this realm. Rumors were you had killed yourself.”
Clarke steps forward into the makeshift throneroom Nia had created for herself. Still nothing more than a power-hungry savage, desperate for a following.
“And I heard rumors this Bloodreina novice is usurping you.”
“How dare you,” Nia seethed, standing up from her throne.
She was exactly as Clarke remembered her, wearing the white fur of a Lycan she had skinned before killing as a show of power.
“Nia.”
Aden looked around at the room of vampires.
“Ah, the new Heda,” Nia smirked now. “What brings you all the way North? Finally ready to follow my lead?”
There were some chuckles and whispers, and Clarke really wanted to hit Nia with an arrow bullseye in her eyes.
“Lycans have been spotted.” Aden kept his face neutral, but Clarke could tell he secretly loved the shock on Nia’s face.
The noise stopped immediately.
“Impossible,” Nia hissed, her fangs extended in more fear than anger. “Lexa sealed the portal.”
“It is true,” Aden showed his fangs back. “And I come here seeking the alliance we all held before, to save our kind. The coven is forging new weapons.”
“How can this be?” Nia asked, a hint of more fear revealing in her voice.
Clarke saw Aden’s lips twitch. He knew what had happened, and for some reason the coven had him vowed to silence. She covered for him.
“We do not know how or why, but it’s true. I killed one myself.”
/
Madi took Raven’s hand, allowing herself to be tugged up and out of the cabin. She walked forward with Madi to Indra and Gustus, who like the others in the room were frozen.
Raven looked down at Madi, receiving a nod of permission.
With a deep breath, Raven waved her magic around – causing the room to go back into motion.
This time, the spiky blonde haired woman looked at them funny. “Who are you guys, how did you get in here?”
“Sorry about that,” Raven said politely. “This little one is always sneaking off – we’ll get out your way. Merry Christmas.”
Once outside, Raven filled a confused Indra and Gustus in.
“I wiped their memories of her,” she explained.
Gustus and Indra looked down at the young vampire and she let go of Raven’s hand and walked cautiously up to Gustus, tugging his jacket.
“What?”
“She wants to be picked up,” Raven was amused.
Gustus bent down picked her up, seeming disgruntled about it until she tugged playfully at his beard, smiled warmly and then cuddled into his chest.
He softened immediately.
“Madi has agreed to help us find Lexa, let’s go.” Raven said. “She’s also hungry, we need to find some blood… the poor thing has only fed on the blood of rats.”
//
–
//
Lexa grit her teeth, her fangs digging in her own skin painfully as The Lycan King’s claws ripped through her chest.
“Lexa!”
She looked up, through the closing gap of the portal to see distraught blue eyes watching her. Clarke . She used her fist to close the portal quickly, her green magic misting around her.
She had always known it would have to go this way, that she needed to be on this side for it to be sealed. She never meant for Clarke to her likely death.
With the portal closed, Lexa looked down to where Malachi’s hand was, painfully tearing her insides apart. He was more than ten times her size and it was sheer willpower that made her move.
If she was going to die, she would take him with her. Her physical body on this side was all the coven needed to keep the spell going for the next two-hundred years.
She was exhausted, having used almost every last bit of her magic and energy to kill as many Lycans as she could, and closing the portal with the coven’s aide.
She raised her arms with her twin enchanted blades and brought them down against her chest, slicing the claws off of Malachi’s paws.
He howled in pain, dropping her and she hit the frozen ground with a thud.
It had been done.
The portal was closed for two hundred years, what was left of her people would be safe until then, the only fighting chance they stood would be when The Key would be born and able to permanently seal the portal with the coven’s aide.
Lexa pushed up to her feet, eyeing the angry Lycans she had denied victory.
Hundreds of thousands of Lycans were in front of her, and millions in this realm combined. Lexa had accepted that she would die today.
She was wounded, and Malachi roared his anger.
He wanted her dead, and he thought he had her.
She let her fangs bare at him and twirled her blades in her hands. With the last of her strength, she summoned every bit of magic she could – intent to cast one last spell before dying.
/
tbc with part 2