I Am The Last Nightblood (the 100)

Beautiful Doom

I wait for the impact, not daring to breathe.

I wait.

And wait.

But It doesn't come.

I'm no longer falling. I'm no longer being crushed. The pulling of my body suddenly ceases. I'm still.

My head grows fuzzy, and my lungs scream for air. I give in to the cry in my lungs. When I breathe in, it's not the fresh artificial air of the other dimension I was just in. It's the familiar rust of earth.

I become aware of the strong sturdy wood of a chair against my back. My ears ring and slowly settle, my head pounding, seeming to match my heartbeat. I shift slightly, flexing my fingers.

"Verena?" A large rough hand gently caress my cheek. I lean into it slightly, not daring to open my eyes. I mentally acknowledge that I'm only half conscious, barely enough to think.

"Give her a moment Bellamy, her mind has been through a lot." Abby's voice.

"V?" Clarke voice echoes through my brain. I try to form the words, but my mouth won't comply. A warm small hand rests on my neck, pushing into the side where my artery lies.

"Her heart is racing." I try to level my breathing, focusing. I focus on my feeling of the chair against my back, and recite the names of all the commanders in my head until I'm sure I have enough control to speak.

"Is it over?" I mumble. The voice seems to belong to someone else, like it didn't come out of me.

"Yes Verena, it's over. You guys did it, we won." I slowly try to open my eyes, the light blinding me. I flinch away.

"She's lost a lot of blood, she needs rest." Abby's stern voice is farther away.

"The people are frightened, they need their commander." Gaia insists.

My heart quickens and I force my eyes open. My people need me. They need their commander. I squint away from the light, mentally cursing. My eyes begin to adjust. I wish they hadn't.

The scene before me reminds me of conclaves, bloody wars.

Bodies upon bodies lay on the floor in their own blood. The ones fortunate to survive are weakened with agony. Wails and cries echo throughout the tower.

I push myself up off the throne, yanking the IV out of my arm, ignoring the immediate trickle of blood while pushing away the hands that reach towards me.

"Verena." Clarke calls. I ignore her. Exchanged words are spoken behind me. I stumble down the steps, slowly surveying the rubble of humans in the sacred hall. Tears glisten in my eyes and my stomach churns. Watery eyes meet my own. I yearn to weep with them.

Nothing, no words can describe the despair I feel within my soul. I want to scream. How could I let this happen? How could I fail them this badly? How did this happen? I freeze, stuck in an endless loop of heartache.

I turn quickly, heading towards the balcony, desperately to check on the city.

The cobblestone streets are painted red. My people hang on crosses, chained to their surroundings. A pile of remains begins to gather in the middle of the street, collected and moved by the unlucky survivors.