The third book in the Ascension Series.
After the destruction of Mount Weather and the end of The Shadow Bloods, Commander Lexa mourns the loss of Clarke Griffin.
Unbeknownst to Lexa, Clarke survived the fall of The Mountain and has made the heartbr...
Falling through nothing but empty space is a strange sensation. You feel the rush of air against your body as time ceases to exist, leaving only the last thought you held in your mind playing over and over again. For me it was her. It was always her. My Warrior Commander, my Lexa. She filled my senses as I fell towards deaths cold embrace. I hoped she'd stay strong for our people after I was gone, she was a Warrior Of Trikru as resilient as the tall tree's that sheltered her Clan. Yet, Lexa had a gentle side to her nature. She felt more than most, but was rarely allowed to show it. Instead she saved what she held in her heart for the moments we shared in private. Her smile, her laugh, her tears offered to me alone and I accepted them with honour and humility. Leaving her behind was hard but to some degree my death would be a blessing. To live after everything that had happened would bring a lifetime of complications not only for myself but my Clan and my Commander. The Mountain Men had turned my red blood black, forced me to do unspeakable things to my own kin and although they had stripped me of my free will, it still felt like I had betrayed those I once swore to protect and fight for. There was no longer a place in the world for the fallen warrior known as Wanheda. At least dying for my people was an honourable way to bow out of this existence. As my body surged towards the river that flowed at the base of Philpott Dam, I breathed what was meant to be my last breath before hitting the ice cold water. The impact sent a painful shockwave through my bones as I found myself pulled into the undercurrent, unable to reach the surface. I gave in to this force of nature, allowed it to take me to its icy depths, my body crashing against the sharp rocks until I felt the last pocket of oxygen leave my lungs. I thought it was over, I was ready to find my peace, but it seemed as though death wasn't quite ready to lead me away from this life.
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I broke the surface of the water and gasped for oxygen, struggling to breathe the bitter cold air into my lungs. The current of the river had finally steadied and had washed my beaten body onto a small rocky beach deep in the heart of Trikru territory. I fought hard to move, grasping at the stones with what little energy I had left to pull my body out of the shallow water. The cold was unbearable, like daggers made of ice stabbing into my bones. I had survived the fall, survived the river, but winter was a cruel companion to those unprepared to face it's harsh nature. My body had begun to seize up and freeze as I lay there amongst the rocks and snow. I felt my breathing slow, my warm breath turning to mist in the cold breeze. Fatigue has begun to overwhelm both my body and my spirit, I could no longer fight against it. As my consciousness began to fade I heard footsteps crunching through the snow. The sound moved closer and closer, but I was unable to move, to see if this stranger was friend or foe. Focusing my eyes I saw a woman with braided, blonde hair kneeling above me. A concerned look rested upon her face as she spoke. "Can you hear me?" She said, the sound of her voice somewhat muted as I struggled to once again focus. As she glanced over my body to check for injuries I knew she'd seen the colour of my blood. In the eyes of any Grounder, that could now only mean one of three things, I was either a bearer of the sacred Nightblood of Becca Pramheda, a Shadow Blood who had escaped The Mountain or thirdly I was the one known as Wanheda, The Commander of Death and betrayer of The Thirteen Clans. I feared that the sword she carried by her side would take me from this world, but instead I felt the warmth of her furs cover me as she continued to talk. "Can you tell me who you are?" She pursued. I looked up at her, conscious enough to hear her words and to make the decision to keep my identity hidden. "I am no one," was my simple reply to this kind stranger who now held my life in her hands.
