Chapter Eleven- Through the Gates of Hell
Clarke
The first thing that hits Clarke when she wakes in the dark, is the cold. A cold that doesn't just exist in the air but in the ground, in the trees, in the deathly silence of the surrounding woods. Her head aches and her body feels like she had been dragged over boulders for miles but even so, Clarke can't help but be struck by the glistening white softness that surrounds her. According to her earth studies, she is looking at snow. Atmospheric water vapour that has frozen, falling to the earth in ice crystals to create the amazing expanse around her. For a moment, Clarke forgets the pain and stares mesmerised, as she lays enclosed in strong arms.
A gruff voice in her ear brings her back to reality
"Good you're awake. You can walk now", dropping Clarke to her feet before continuing, "We are almost at Azgadea. The Queen will be pleased to see you. Don't do anything stupid, you won't be able to escape. It's best that you do as she wants. Or not. But you're suffering will be ten times greater. She'll be pleased to hear of The Commander's death"
"She will reward me greatly", he finishes mumbling, clearly pleased at the thought of the rewards he would receive for presenting the news and Clarke.
Clarke barely registers the words. The pain has gone, instead replaced with a bitter taste in her mouth and a numbness that Clarke feels all through her. Her feet sink into the snow with each step, the wet soaking through her thin pants, the freezing dampness only adding to the numbness. As Clarke clears the trees, she is once again awed. The moonlight dances off the frozen glacier that spreads before her, its gleaming perfection spreading for miles.
Her hands are bright red with cold after hours of walking through the snow. The bandages barely holding and her wrists raw from the chafing rope that still binds them. Staring ahead, Clarke blinks as a dark shape appears before her, swearing that only a moment ago it wasn't there. The moonlight outlines the walls of a crumbling building. The windows no longer filled with glass but rather wooden panels. A cross rises from the angled roof, bringing to Clarke's mind images of the religious monasteries she had studied about back on the Ark. As she and her captor near the towering building, Clarke studies the ornate iron gates that still stand surrounding the property. Guards standing stiffly just outside, the first sign of human life she has seen since leaving the battle.
As they reach the perimeter of the fencing, the guards extend their hands pulling the two gates apart, ushering Clarke and her captor forward with a nod. Clarke knows that she should feel fear, knows that the probability of her leaving this building alive is very little but the numbness still ebbs through her, covering her fear, like the snow that covers the green beneath it, hiding all traces panic. Lexa was still dead, Finn was still dead, Wells was still dead. She was just the next victim of this harsh life. Why should she fear when she cannot change the past or her inevitable future.
After walking through the foyer of building, they enter a room through large wooden doors. The magnificence of the room is undeniable. The ceiling stretches high above her, arched beams supporting its weight. Beneath centuries old dirt and grime, Clarke can just make out the image painted on its ceiling. Taking a moment to imagine herself, brush in hand, carefully sweeping the brush back and forth, carving out the cheeks of angels and the soft depth of the clouds they sit on, Clarke sighs. At least if she is to die, it'll be looking at something as impressive as the art above her. Broken of her trance by a clearly annoyed grunt, her captor pushes her roughly in the back before forcing her to her knees in front of an altar, once covered in rich red carpet which had since reduced to scraggly bits of thread frozen to the concrete. Looking up, Clarke observes the baroque wooden chair that sits before her and the figure residing in it, staring back with a menacing curiosity. Clarke swallows, her eyes trapped by the icy blue ones that look back at her which finally break through her numbness, bringing fear rising to the surface.
"Wanheda, we meet at last"