The Wilted Rose

Chapter 44: Prophecies (Vol. 1.5 finale)

Beacon

9:03 PM

188 Days to the Fall

Y/n Pov

I found myself back in the barren wasteland in my mind. The same wasteland where my dreams showed me things. I don't understand what this place really was. Was it really my mind or was it something else? Why was I here now? I looked around, unsure of anything anymore. In the distance, I saw two figures. 

One looked to be made of complete darkness while the other looked to be made of light. I took a step forward before my head felt like it was about to burst. Flashes of things that have yet to happen exploding from my mind. I couldn't make sense on any of it. It was going by too fast. There was one thing I was sure of. These dreams, these visions.... There's much more to them than I initially thought. 

-Y ur t sk is not  et co plet d- 

-A aken Cha p on. B eak y ur cu se and  e fre d-

The whispers were broken and incomplete. Like there was something that was blocking them from being completely heard. These dreams.... These visions.... Their of me. A previous me. I looked back at everything that's happened. Were those premonitions or memories? The first to come to mind was that night I had the vision of Weiss' death by Callows. Did that really happen and I was remembering?

The notion was disturbing beyond words. Why does the visions come and go the way they do? No. The better question is why are they happening again? My head flashed me another image. It was of Yang and Blake laid on the ground. Yang was dead, missing a arm and Blake with a gut wound, likely about to join her in death. The flash ended, knocking me to my knees. I felt weak. As I tried to stand up, I was met with another flash. 

This one was of the woman with black hair. Her face was distorted so I couldn't make her out. I was laid on the ground, the feeling of blood loss weighing heavily on me, clouding my thinking. I managed to pick my head up enough to see how bad off I was. I was covered in bullet holes, burns, slashes and stab wounds. The fact that I had survived all of this was shocking.

I tried to release the Lazarus energy to heal my wounds but found that all I could manage were wisps of green smoke. I don't know the limitations of the Lazarus energy, but it looks like this was it. Why was it failing now? It had healed me when I had been gutted by the explosion at the warehouse. If it could heal that, why cant it heal this? 

I laid my head back down before I heard a familiar voice. I couldn't place why it was familiar but I felt a surge of hatred for it. I noticed it was coming from the woman with black hair. She was about as fucked up as I was. Her arm missing and her clothes in tatters, showing several burns littering her body. I couldn't figure out what exactly was happening with my senses waning. The feeling of blood loss coming and going in waves. 

The woman limped over to me before stopping at my feet. She kneeled down, pain evident in her movements. She released her hold on the stump that was her arm. The wound looking as though it had been cauterized. Reaching down, she picked up something that I recognized immediately. It was one of my pistols, White. I absentmindedly looked over to the left and saw my other pistol well out of reach.