Experiment of Fate ~ A Bellamy Blake story

3 - Mount Weather

Isla Griffin sat slumped on the cold, unforgiving floor of the room that had become her prison over the past five years. Every inch of her felt heavy with the weight of exhaustion, a kind of weariness that stretched deep into her bones, making it nearly impossible to do anything but exist. Her body, once strong, now felt fragile—too weak to move, too drained to fight. It was strange, this silence that had settled around her. For over a week, no one had come. No doctors, no researchers, not even Emerson, the one who had once made promises of greatness and experiments that would change the world. The very thought of him, the one who had dragged her into this nightmare, brought a bitter taste to the back of her throat.

The stale bread and the meager cup of water they continued to bring her felt more like a cruel joke than sustenance. They were enough to keep her alive, barely, but nothing more. No transfusions, no blood tests, no experiments. It was as if they'd abandoned her, left her to rot in this isolated mountain facility. The questions gnawed at her—what could have possibly happened to make them stop? Why had they ceased their cruel, relentless work on her? It was the kind of silence that whispered of dread, the kind that made her wonder if something far worse was about to unfold.

She had stopped hoping for a miracle, long ago. Those thoughts, once filled with the desperate desire to escape, now felt foolish, hollow. She had accepted the truth: she was going to die in this room, in this mountain. The thought no longer brought anger or fear, only a dull, aching resignation. The people she loved—her twin sister, Clarke, her adoptive brother Lincoln, her dad—were so far away now, their faces fading from her memory like distant dreams. She would never see them again. She would never get to experience the life she had once longed for—the joy of falling in love, of living freely, of being whole. It was all gone, lost in the darkness that had swallowed her whole.

Her body, once vibrant, was now nothing but a shell, weakened by malnutrition and the torment of years of neglect. The chains that bound her to the cot had become more of a reminder of her helplessness than a true restraint. The handcuffs, once tight and restricting, now hung loosely from her wrists and ankles, useless and mocking. After the experiment had gone wrong—after everything had shattered—she had been left to wither away. No longer strong enough to summon her fire, her power had become a distant memory. A cruel irony, that the one thing that could have saved her was now out of reach.

Isla's gaze dropped to her own reflection, if it could even be called that. Her strawberry blonde hair, matted with sweat and dirt, hung in limp strands around her face. Her white bra and shorts were stained with blood and grime, clinging to her like the remnants of a life she no longer recognized. Bruises, dark and purple, covered her skin from head to toe, a map of the torment she had endured. Her blue-green eyes, once full of light, were now hollow, sunken into her face like the eyes of a ghost. She was a skeleton, a shell of the person she had once been. She no longer recognized the girl who had arrived here full of hope and determination. She had become a stranger to herself.

And yet, despite everything, there was still a flicker of something inside her—something that refused to fully extinguish. Even as she sat there, beaten and broken, she could not let go completely. Maybe it was the faintest thread of hope, or perhaps it was just sheer willpower, but for the briefest moment, Isla refused to surrender entirely. She wouldn't go quietly.

--

Unbeknownst to Isla, salvation was closer than she could have imagined. The hum of Mount Weather reverberated in Bellamy's ears as he moved through the dimly lit corridors, the guard uniform still clinging to him like a thin shield of protection. Each step was measured, every glance over his shoulder a reminder of the ever-present danger. He was deep within enemy territory, his life hanging by a thread, but he had no choice. His friends were still trapped, held captive by those who sought to harvest them for their marrow. His heart raced, the urgency of his mission clear: save them all.