Carved by the Gods

The Kraken

Traveling to Rockburn proved its challenge, the deeper we got into the forest, and the closer we became to our destination, the more dangerous it seemed. Bounty hunters were searching for not only Clarke, but me as well. Now known as her accomplice thanks to Cage Wallace and his many spies. She stood tall though, she didn't back down when someone came too close for comfort, I forced them away so she wouldn't have to use her power on them. To spare at least a fraction of her soul. Our hearts were still heavy, we talked about Maya a lot. She hadn't known her long but she had been fond of her for the short time they had with one another. Clarke admired her willingness to forgive. To forget. Her ability to move forward despite all that life had thrown at her. It gave Clarke hope, which in turn gave me some as well. We talked about everything, I told her about training with the guard at my home, I mentioned my mother and how she was one of the most talented seamstresses in the land, and how my father was a fisherman, she looked at me funny when I told her that both of my parents were mortal.

"But I thought...they called you Son of Marcus." She said confused. I nodded and bit back on my jaw.

"I may be a half-blood. But I don't know him. He wasn't there for me my whole life, my father was." I replied. I stared at the back of her head as she nodded slowly.

"Don't you want to know him?" She asked.

"Honestly? I don't care. I didn't ask to be his son."

"I'm surprised no monsters have attacked us yet, your glow kind of gives you away."

"What glow? And maybe it's because I'm traveling with a monster. They all probably think you're dragging my corpse with you." I teased. Clarke chuckled lightly.

"You could be correct. Ok all I'm saying is, if you get the chance, I want you to meet him...set him straight. Show him that abandoning you and your mother was wrong."

"But it wasn't...my mother found love. She made a home. She had my sister..." I trailed.

"I would have liked to meet Octavia. What was she like?" She asked. I smiled widely as I told her about all of our adventures. How we used to play pirates when we were young, how her first word was Ba-Ba, meaning me, and how she was an expert fighter. Her spirit shone so brightly it would burn your eyes, her ferocity was palpable, and she never, ever backed down without a fight...which is why watching her give up...watching her die right before my eyes was the hardest part. The smile was wiped clean from my face...leaving me with nothing but sorrow.

"Bellamy..." She began, she stopped herself short, deciding to change the subject from my pain to hers. She told me about healing, how she loved to do it, it made her feel like she could truly make a difference in someone's life. Her father was a writer, and inventor, she giggled as she called him a cracked pot. How when everyone shunned them after he helped Gaia escape, she was still proud of him because he did the right thing, but couldn't help but wish it was her being forced to hold the sky. I admired her perseverance, so many would have just given up on life after all she'd been through. The trip was nearing its end finally, we had walked straight through, not stopping for anything except for the occasional stream to refill our canteens and eat what little food we had left. Suffice it to say, we were both exhausted. And I was afraid we wouldn't be able to help Raven the way she wanted.

"We should be approaching the entrance to Rockburn soon, Raven said it was under siege. Something about a threat made to the King." She panted. We climbed a long hill to see smoke, and minimal flames, we heard chanting, low and threatening coming from the land below. The only untouched buildings were dark brown, with hints of emerald and bronze. Raven's temples.

"You still have that dagger right?" I asked.

"I do." She answered. She'd made a small sheath using part of her chiton, and using some of the leather straps from her sandals to form a belt for it. Clever girl she was. We slowly headed down the hill towards the unknown city, she was wringing her hands again. I noticed more and more when she did that, it was always when she was nervous, starting slow by drumming her fingers, then she massaged them. Cracking her knuckles occasionally. The closer we got, the more dilapidated the town looked, it was as if the town had risen up in fear of something and attacked. Like wild animals.