10.

The sun nearly burned away her eyesight when she walked step by step further into it. Once her eyes adjusted to the brightness, she took in her surroundings. Every which way she turned, she saw nothing but vast, barren desert, with mounds of dunes that looked hundreds of miles away. Surprisingly, despite the environment, it was not as hot as a normal desert would be. Instead, it was a dry, stale, temperate climate. Also, the sand beneath her feet was not scorching as it should have been.

She knew there was only one place in the world she could go to now. If only she could figure which direction to head when she was, quite literally, in the middle of nowhere.

Her thoughts were interrupted when she felt a presence behind her. Turning her head back, she saw that a horned agent standing in the entryway of the Institution, its emblem staff held in its hands. Its weapon made a forward strike for her head, but Eve was quick enough to duck so that it missed. Then she made a run for it while the agent gave chase.

She ran faster and harder than she ever had in her entire life. Though she was fast enough to remain out of its reach, it remained always just behind her. Her chain swung in her fist as she raced for her life. She had no way of knowing to where she was running. All she cared about was getting as far away as possible as quickly as possible.

The more she ran, the more familiar this scene felt to her. She tried to focus solely on evading the agent that pursued her, but she could not deny the truth that was becoming all the more apparent. This was all exactly as she had seen it in her dreams, her prophetic visions of this world. The "masked girl" who she had seen was, in fact, herself. Eve knew that this also meant that her fate would be the same; her life was going to come to an end all to soon. But with this knowledge came a great revelation: if she were to die now as she foresaw, it would lead to the end of F.E.A.R. The Wild Ones would be ignited into forming a legion and lead an uprising against F.E.A.R. and would rise victorious, and she knew in her heart that was exactly what needed to happen.

So, Eve slowed her pace to a halt and turned back, only to see that the agent had vanished. When she turned again, it was standing just before her. Its staff swung for her head once again, and Eve, on instinct, jumped back, landing on her back to the ground. The agent approached her, ready to strike. Eve took up her rosary and held the medallion out at arm's length, wordlessly informing it that she would not surrender. With the end of its staff, it batted the object from her hand, then rose to make the final assault.

Eve gave it her final words of spite, "The Legion will end you," then the agent's spear ran her through. As it was pulled loose, Eve's blood spilled freely across the ground, staining the white sand red. And just like that, the agent dissipated into a cloud of dark smoke, leaving Eve for dead.

Just as she expected, the attack did not kill her, only mortally wound her so that her death would be slow and agonizing. And that it was. The only thing that allowed her to withstand the agony was the wait in hopes of the Prophet making his appearance. Any moment now, he would come to take her to the Wild Ones' camp. It was only a matter of time.

Time, however, was not on her side. With each passing second, more and more of her blood flowed from her body into the earth beneath her, slowly but surely draining her life. Steadily, her strength lessened. All too soon, she could feel herself becoming ever weaker. She knew that she could not last much longer, while still there was no sign of the rebels' leader she was awaiting.

Her hope diminished just as her very life did. As her hands reached across the ground to retrieve her rosary, her heart shattered to splinters in her chest. She had failed. F.E.A.R. would thrive and the Wild Ones would continue to bow beneath their rule, and there was nothing she could do. Now, all she had to look forward to was the peaceful oblivion of death.

But just when Eve was prepared to relinquish her grip on this world, a sudden darkness cast over the sun. Her eyes turned up to see a tall male figure standing above her. When he crouched down, her barely-beating heart leapt. The Prophet had arrived at last.

The Prophet took her up into his arms, cradling her as he carried her away. She had no strength left in her exsanguinated body, so all she could do was dangle in his grasp as if she were already a corpse, using what little might she had left to keep hold of her medallion.

They traveled through a path that was concealed between two sand dunes, then across a mile long field, eventually coming upon a dilapidated power plant, the home of the Wild Ones. Samantha, a young girl with stringy blonde hair who acted as the lookout, descended from the tower on which she stood and alerted the others to the Prophet's return. One by one, the rebels emerged from their hiding places; men, women, and children of all ages, each of their faces dirty and their clothes ratty and torn. All came forward, including the four other Fallen Ones, as the Prophet arrived with the seemingly dead masked girl in his arms.

"Is that her?" asked the Deviant as the Prophet passed, who answered with a nod as he lowered her down onto a shaded area of ground.

The Prophet himself had foreseen this. For years he had seen the arrival of this masked girl in his dreams, and now she had come at last. But what importance she had, he did not know; his visions hadn't shown him anything beyond this very moment.

"Who is she?" somebody asked from within the crowd.

"She escaped the Institute," answered the Prophet, "And was attacked by a horned agent." Then turning towards the Mystic, asked, "Can you help her?"

The Mystic stepped forward and went down to his knees so he could inspect Eve's condition. "She's lost way too much blood," he sighed, shaking his head, "There's nothing that can be done." He then looked to the Mourner as he said, "She's on the cusp."

The Mourner then himself sank down to one knee at Eve's head, his fingers touching to her temples. "No, not yet," he said in a near-whisper, his eyes closed, "Her time isn't over. She isn't ready to leave."

"Are you fucking kidding?! Look at her!" the Destroyer exclaimed, "Why don't we just end her suffering and just get it over with?"

To which the Mourner snapped, "You don't fuck with the design! F.E.A.R. has been doing so for years and look at what's happened!"

The whole time the Fallen continued arguing amongst each other, Eve was searching through the crowd, knowing that she indeed had one more task she needed to fulfill. Once she caught sight of him, she extended her arm across the sand, pointing a finger to a small boy clutching his father's arm. Seeing this, the Prophet beckoned him forth. The child, eight-year-old David, was escorted by his father. Once he stood beside her, Eve turned her hand over and opened it, holding out her medallion.

"Take it," she told the boy, her voice a barely audible wheeze. After an affirming nod from his father, David took up the chain.

"What… what is…" David stammered, confused, "I don't…"

"You'll know," Eve rasped, "You'll know."

When the Prophet saw what she had given David, he could not believe his eyes.

"Show that to me," he ordered the boy.

David meekly relinquished the chain to the Prophet, who inspected it with scrutinizing eyes. It was indeed the one.

Turning her head so that their eyes could meet, he held up the tarnished gold star as he asked of her, "Where did you get this? Who are you?"

With her final ounce of strength, Eve lifted up her arm, around which still remained the laminated ID bracelet. The Prophet licked his thumb and was able to scrape away the layer of dried tar caked onto it, revealing her name: BLACK, EVE.

"No," he gasped underneath his breath, "It can't be!"

Still gazing into the girl's eyes, he saw that they were indeed the color of deep brown that he quickly recognized.

"Evie?"

The shock the Prophet felt was then shared by Eve. There was only one other person who called her by that. With his face now so close to hers, she could at last see his face. In it, she could see the young man she remembered him as, his features now hardened, with a deep scar running across his right cheek from his mouth to his ear. His eyes, ringed with shadows, were the brightest blue she had ever seen.

Eve smiled. "I knew…" she spoke in a whisper, "…you were alive."

"Fuck, Evie!" the Prophet choked. His chest tightened and water began to flow from his eyes. "Why- What are you doing here!? You shouldn't be here!"

"I…" Eve croaked, her voice so weak the Prophet had to lean in even closer to hear, "I saw… what you saw… an… and more…"

"What? What else did you see?"

But Eve could not tell him all that she knew, all that was vital for him to learn, for at that very moment, they were joined by another, one that only she and the Mourner could see: a woman cloaked in robes of black satin, chains hanging from her neck, silver rings on each of her long, slender fingers, and her face adorned with tattoo designs to give it the resemblance a skull. When she reached to take Eve's hand, Eve looked her last at all the Wild Ones that surrounded her, and uttered in her dying breath her final word, what sounded to him like:

"Legion."

all that's left to this is a Final Chapter and Epilogue [which will lead into a sequel ;) ]