Lexa sat in the lobby with the other novitiates, waiting for the gate to rise to begin the conclave. There's a certain kind of nerve that fires off when you know that you might be waiting to die: That this could be your last day. That you're going to find out what's on the other side of the living world. There is no sense of curiosity or readiness, just fear, anxiety, and nausea. She wasn't ready to die, and she was sure no one else in this room was either. Typically Lexa was brave and unnerved in the face of battle, but this was different. Odds of survival felt higher in battle than in comparison to the Conclave, where it was a guarantee that only one person would make it out alive.

This was it. She would have no one else to talk to after this moment if she did not succeed. Desperate to leave a legacy, a last imprint on the world if she should fail, she walked to the wall opposite of her and the other waiting candidates. It was the wall that all novitiates had visited before their conclaves- a wall to leave their name, their dreams, beliefs, and names of loved ones, anything that they wanted to be remembered by forever after they passed through that gate. It was covered completely, leaving little space for future novitiates.

Lexa picked up one of the many thin paintbrushes by the wall and dipped it in the bowl of thick black paint. Lifting the brush to her arm, she delicately swirled an infinity symbol on her left inner-wrist, the sacred symbol of the Commanders. She had never received any communication from her soulmate, so she had always assumed that they just weren't old enough yet to begin the soulmate search that was triggered once you became sixteen, or just simply that they did not want to communicate. Yet she hoped, on this fateful day of her nineteenth year, that somewhere out in the world, her soulmate would sense her desperation in needing their presence. That they would understand the importance of this symbol and realize their soulmate was about to compete in the Conclave; that today could be the day that started their life without their soulmate.

She stared at her arm for what seemed like an eternity. She heard the gate rise and the novitiates rise to their feet. Her arm still received no reciprocation. She heard the traditional speech being said outside in the arena, signaling the commencement of the Conclave, and she was ordered to join the line. As she walked in the single-file line, the sun shining ruthlessly on her face, she saw the enormous crowd that had come to see the birth of the new commander. As the orator continued the ceremonial speech, Lexa took one last desperate look at her arm.

Don't let me leave this world without one word from the love of my life, she begged in her mind. And as if blessed by the gods of fate, she felt a tingling sensation on her arm. Her heart beat with the last bit of excitement she may ever experience as a trinity symbol began to seep into her skin next to her infinity mark. It was a symbol she couldn't associate with a clan in her area, and assumed that her destined lover was in a clan far beyond the borders of Trigeda and the other eleven Clans. This also explained why she never received any lucid dreams when in proximity to her soulmate.

Invigorated by this first communication with her destined lover, Lexa felt herself standing tall and ready. If she were to die today, she would be content, knowing that she had someone out in the world who was made for her, and if she succeeded, then she would spend every last waking hour trying to find the clan who brandished this symbol.

Two years later

Clarke Griffin surveyed her cell, looking at the different pictures she had sketched into the white walls and floors with the few pieces of charcoal the guards had given her. Imprisoned to solitary confinement for the act of treason against the Ark, the only thing she was given to keep herself from going mad were the few art supplies Chancellor Jaha had assigned to her, a special treatment no inmate in the history of the Ark had received. Because her family had been close friends with the Jaha family, she guessed this was the Chancellor's way of administering justice and mercy.

She was not allowed to communicate with other inmates, and she was not allowed to communicate with her guards, with the exception of protocol responses, such as "yes sir, no sir", and the like. She even suspected that she had been given charcoal because of how faint it left marks on the skin, as if they didn't want her communicating with her soulmate either. That was the cruelest implication of her punishment; that her government had went out of the way to make sure she couldn't even have spiritual peace given by soulmate communication. Clarke tried anyway, though. She liked to assume that whoever they were, that they could still see the faint lines of her drawings. She did not want her soul mate to start thinking that she wasn't interested in them anymore, despite her death sentence.

Her unspoken bond with her soul mate was difficult to explain. She felt so connected to this person already, and would communicate multiple times a day with them. Her mother Abby would try to get Clarke to stop at least for an hour or two so she could focus on her medical classes, but nothing held Clarke's attention like the intricate designs she found constantly appearing on her body. Whoever her soul mate was, they obviously were gratified by the attention too, as Clarke often received marks immediately after making her own.

Clarke was also intrigued by this person to the fullest. All their markings were intricate and bizarre tribal looking ones, and her friend Wells had suggested that probably her soulmate was some kind of anthropology nerd. She wondered just where on the Ark her soulmate resided. The station was enormous, full of different countries attached together in different sectors. Perhaps her soulmate was someone from a country that still valued cultural symbols. It didn't matter now though, because within the year Clarke would be floated, as she was sure she had just turned eighteen recently, or it was coming around the corner any second now. Her soulmate would be left alone for the rest of their life.

As she thought on this depressing idea, she felt a sensation dance on her arm. Lifting her limb, she watched another intricate tribal design grace her skin. Smiling at her soulmate's never-changing theme, Clarke reached for another piece of charcoal and began to draw a triskel symbol. She wanted to make her soul mate happy, continuing the theme they had never stopped since the day she received the infinity symbol on her wrist.

Clarke would never forget that memory. She had just turned sixteen only two weeks before the drawing had appeared, and for those fourteen days she couldn't stop inspecting her body for the first marks of her soulmate. She loved the idea of knowing that there was someone who was destined to love her, and any message she would receive would be cherished by her. Her parents laughed at her, finding her eagerness adorable, but continued to encourage her to focus on her medical career.

When the infinity symbol had appeared, Clarke's whole world had stopped. She was in the process of attending an interview to start an internship in the Ark's medical program and the design bore heavily on her wrist. When she sensed it, she was in the middle of answering a question, and glanced down at her wrist. She stumbled over her words, as she stared at her first message ever. The Director of the Medical Program had to take a glace for himself, curious as to what would make this star pupil so distracted. He ended the interview quickly, on account of not wanting to interrupt this significant moment for his young applicant, telling her they would reschedule for tomorrow instead.

Clarke had rushed outside the office and dug inside her bag, searching for a marker. When she found one, she looked at the infinity design with excitement once more, and tried to remember just which Ark station had that as their patch. Too excited to think of something better to draw, Clarke went with the first thing off the top of her head, the trinity symbol shared among many stations of the Ark. In hindsight, Clarke hated that that was the first thing she sent to her soul mate. She was an artist for crying out loud, yet the first thing she sends is a basic trinity. She hoped her soulmate would understand.

Outside her cell, she heard power-locked bolts begin to unlock, and Clarke jumped to her feet. She had already received both meals for the day, and her shower, why would her door be unlocking? Overwhelmed, her mind resorted to the only plausible answer, and it sent her into an instinctual panic- it was time for her death. They had come to execute her by sending her into space, floating her just like her father.

"Prisoner, turn away from the door and face the bedside wall with your hands behind your head!" commanded a guard before the door had fully opened.

Clarke wasn't ready. This couldn't be it. She wasn't ready!

She tried to steady her hand as she held her arm up once more, needing to see- well, talk to- her soulmate once more. Just once more before she died, she had to let her soul mate know…

"Prisoner!" The guard spat, seeing that Clarke had not obeyed his order. "Drop whatever is in your hand and face the wall!" He stepped inside, and began to rush at her.

Hastily, Clarke scribbled on her arm, her breath shaking and her legs trembling. This was it. This was the end. The guard violently grabbed her drawing wrist and gripped it tight, causing her fingers to drop the charcoal. He grabbed her remaining arm and forcefully bent Clarke over to restrain her wriggling. Cold steel handcuffs pinched her skin. The guard jerked her back to a straight posture and pushed her out of the cell, catching a quick glimpse of her forearm, which sloppily read an incomplete: Goodby