I Am The Last Nightblood (the 100)

17 Seconds

It didn't feel real. As soon as Clarke and I stepped through, the air changed. The familiar earthly fragrance was gone, something more... artificial lingered in place. I felt as if I was suspended in air, but my feet were firmly on the ground. My body felt uneasy, unnerving. 'What is this?'

The room was peculiar, as if we had walked into another dimension. Pristine white is everywhere I look. The tile, the counters, the walls and what I could only assume to be machines. I feel the need to squint when I'm looking around. Where the hell are we?

I look to Clarke and I can't help but take note of her expression. The confused recognition is evident in her eyes as they flicker.

"Clarke?" It was no more than murmur, but in the dead silent room, I know she had to have heard it. She opens her mouth to speak, and there's a shift in the atmosphere.

"Commander." Of course I expected the sound to come from Clarke, so when her lips didn't move, fear struck my heart. The voice isn't Clarke's. The very feeling I'm quite familiar with erupts. The churning of my stomach, my heart in my throat. The dread and fear crawling it's way out of the darkness. The suffocating despair. I knew this emotion. I had no words for it. I turn around, and I lock eyes with the keeper of the sound. Her face is pale, her cheekbones unhealthily evident. Her skin clings to her bones in her face and neck. Her body is slender, all except for her tall legs. Her brown auburn hair is pulled back into a tight high pony tail. She wears a lose hanging sweater, a dark hue of an earthy purple. Her eyes are focused, young, yet a hint of wisdom rings clear. I can't bring myself to look away from her face, her eyes. I squint and blink, frightened by the image I see behind my eyes lids.

A dream I had long ago. The girls screams still ring in my head. I see her clouded face, shadowed by the flames below her. Her eyes glisten, her voice is hard and ragged, her throat hoarse from her screams, so full of pleas that even she knew wouldn't be answered. I open my eyes and focus on the figure before me. My body relaxes slightly, the alarm still ringing in my head.

"Becca." I greet her.

"I'm glad you two made it." She confided. I feel Clarke's eyes on me. My feet move toward her slowly. Becca's eyes scan me up and down, a honest smile playing on her lips.

"You're Becca Pramheda, the first commander." Clarke marvels. Her boots click softly behind me.

"Becca is just fine." She answers, almost shyly. Her eyes meet mine, urgency sudden in her brown orbs. "There isn't much time." She swiftly turns around and walks to the end of the long -once again white- table, stopping at the end. I follow in her steps, slowly with caution. There's a single object in the middle of the table. A silver and white lever. Her hands are outstretched as she leans over the table. "This is it. Only the minds in control can operate this lever." Her eyes move between us two. I look over my shoulder at Clarke, and we both step forward, Becca moving out of the way.

My hand wraps around the lever, and the warmth of Clarke's hand on top of mine radiates. I look at her ocean eyes, and nod, my hand beginning to apply pressure to pull the lever down.

"If you pull that, you will be killing everyone." Confusion swirls in my chest. The sound of her voice came from the wrong direction, how'd she manage to move without noise? I turn around, and I see Becca, who also apparently had time for a wardrobe and personality change. My ears pick up the sharp intake of air next to me, and to my dismay, Becca stands there, still in her dark purple shirt, her brown eyes unreadable. I turn to face the imposter before the three of us.