OUT OF MIND² ━━ Bellamy Blake

𝐗𝐗𝐕𝐈𝐈𝐈: Alarms

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ALARMS

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SOMEHOW, INDRA'S DAUGHTER is both exactly like her mother and nothing like her in every which way.

     Gaia is the youngest Fleimkepa of a generation ━━ not to mention the final Fleimkepa left alive. She is the Grounder's mouthpiece, as Lyra has determined. Though she is not leadership, she is no Heda, she is their representative and the one who decides who gets to walk the path of the Commander. All terracotta skin and thick dreads and guarded eyes, she is no warrior like her mother, but she is fierce all the same. Both mirror each other without noticing. Indra reaches for her sword, Gaia her talisman. Like moon and sun, fire and ice, mother and daughter in perfect synchrony.

     "Lyra — Lyra!"

Lyra opens her eyes. There are torches above her, and a vaulted roof of crumbling rock. She seems to have curled tightly into a ball with a heavy jacket tucked around her shoulders and bunched in her fists. Her hair is lank with moisture. She feels physically ill. Her stomach is emptier than the crypt of the first Commander, nothing more than hollow catacombs. And her head ━━ oh, god, and her head ━━ that nothing more than a fireball of burning nerves. They feel shredded and rake at her skull until she feels as if she is bleeding from the inside out.

"Are you OK?" Octavia asks, looking nervous.

Lyra thinks one look at her should be enough to tell. She can't speak, so she shrugs.

"We need to contact whoever it is that's inside that bunker," says Kane, more nervously still. "I'll bet anything that it was Jaha who did this, but I know we'll have Noah, Bellamy, Abby, and Clarke all on our side — "

"Not Clarke."

Her voice is guttural, thick with anguish, and it makes her shrink back from herself. But there's no time to consider what this means; Indra, Octavia, and Kane have all turned to face her once more and more and Lyra struggles to straighten beneath the thick guard jacket. Listlessly, she realises it must be Kane's.

"Clarke did this," Lyra croaks.

Kane twists around and shakes his head. "No, Clarke wouldn't — "

"You weren't in the lab," she whispers in a shaking voice. "This was her. I know it was."

I bear it so they don't have to.

Kane looks stricken. Lyra is in far too much pain to care about coddling him right now and pulls away from the wall, beginning to sit up, her gut writhing, every bone screaming in defiance, her legs searing. Nobody stops her. She leans her back up against the raw limestone walls, ignoring the way it eats away at her tattered too, sweat beading across her forehead and snaking down her temple. She grimaces and then let's Kane's jacket drop down to the ground.

"Give me a walkie," she says hoarsely.

"We haven't been able to reach anyone," Octavia starts. "I don't think the walkie's are any good down there — "