OUT OF MIND² ━━ Bellamy Blake

𝐗𝐕𝐈𝐈: Memento Mori

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MEMENTO MORI

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[ the next 2 chapters literally took forever to write. so, uhhh, not to be that author, but i wouldnt mind a little extra love and some spare comments and votes ]

            DOZENS OF FEET ahead of Lyra, Clarke starts to make her way up the steps. But she is moving sluggishly, chest heaving.

Lyra is still in the middle of the street. She tried to move her legs, but it is as if someone has simply taken the wheel from her. She is being bricked in by her own mind. Somewhere behind her, she can hear the thundering footfalls of Alie's army. They splash through puddles, hunting her like bloodthirsty wolves.

Clarke collapses in the middle of the steps

"Stop. . . " Lyra manages to whisper. Her mouth barely seems to move. "Stop, Alie! Leave me alone!"

"Submit." Alie's cool voice pierces through the hazy fog that veils her mind. It echoes, seeming to come from nowhere and everywhere all at once. "Submit completely and permanently. Give me full access to your synaptic network."

Up ahead, Lyra can just barely make out Clarke's crumpled form. The chipped citizens have pounced upon her like a lion would it's prey. They beat her ruthlessly, and she can hear Clarke crying out.

"No. . . " Lyra croaks. She forces her fists to curl. "No!"

A sharp battle cry breaks through the air.

     A dark figure explodes from the top of the steps, twin swords flashing deftly in the sunlight. They throw their boot into the first chipped citizen before slashing one blade through the second, whirling around gracefully to sink the sword into the stomach of the first assailant. Then they roll over their shoulder, landing in a crouch upon their feet with catlike agility. They throw their sword forwards again as a dark leather cloak sweeps out behind them. The figure, now obviously a girl, rises slowly to her feet, tresses of dark hair falling loose from her braids and flying over her face. Her features are shielded by dark war paint as she stares out across the road at Lyra. Waiting. Calculating. As if trying to discern whether Lyra is a threat or not.

And Lyra feels a chill move through her. The Commander is back.

Because it is Lexa.

Gleaming silver disappears as Lexa sheathes her swords. Her lithe and sturdy body is clad in Grounder armor, though it is not the same as when she was Heda. It is strapped with various sheathes and holsters, glittering with a great number of knives. She faces Clarke swiftly and then helps her to her feet, the two likely exchanging words, but Lyra is too far to make them out. Then Lexa is pulling Clarke into an embrace.

Without thought, Lyra attempts to rise to her feet. But she still has not regained control.

Slumped on the ground, she tries to open her eyes. But something is very, very wrong. Her limbs feel like dead weights. Her brain struggles to formulate any thoughts. There is a haze veiling her vision.