I own nothing but my own words.
Chapter 17: Yep, That's Me. A Warrior.
18 years ago...
Seylah was spit out of the endless darkness in the dead of night.
With only moments to take everything in, she saw that she was standing on the edge of the very same pit of tar she was tossed into however long ago, completely covered in the mud like substance. She saw metal stairways and platforms connected to the ops room accessed by keycard only, with specially sealed windows. She also heard an alarm going off to signal her return had not gone unnoticed.
But the most disturbing thing she noted was her stomach protruding in front of her.
Years of shutting down her emotions as she entered battle was the only reason she was able to meet the threat of the advancing guards. Quickly counting the number of men closest to her, she mentally prepared her escape.
Careful not to slip, she ran up the stairway. Midway to the top, with guards running down toward her, she grabbed the railing and jumped up to a crooked crouch on the edge before propelling upward to the side platform rails. She pulled herself through the slots, and sprang to her feet.
Guards were already rerouting toward her. She needed to get through them if she had a prayer of escape. She also needed a keycard.
They were closing in, though they would have to kill her as she refused to be captured and sent back to the pit again. Or worse, studied like a lab rat for whatever she harbored in her abdomen. Years of training made it easy to dispense with most of them. She kicked, she punched; she twisted and broke someone's neck. She managed to push one over the edge of the platform, ignoring their scream as they fell into the pit.
More and more kept coming at her though, and she was racing to come up with an alternative option when cries from the guards coming through the door registered.
Something else was rising out of the pit, and she lost half of her pursuers as they split their attention between them.
The added advantage of all the guards attacking meant the mud on her hands wiped off with each hit. She was able to grab a keycard without smudging the scan bar. She fought her way through a few more guards before finally reaching the door.
Fortunately, that one was propped open as another guard made his way through. She tripped him and pushed, sending him screaming into a free fall down the stairway into the pit.
Whatever else had risen from the pit was fighting for its life, much the same as she had. She didn't know what else had returned with her and she wasn't going to stick around to find out.
A guard she tangled with in the ops room had an actual gun on their belt instead of the tranquilizers the others held. Grabbing that, she used the bullets sparingly as she slid the card to escape the room and run through the long corridors.
She had been fighting all her life for survival. Nothing was going to stop her now.
She fled into the night, using the cover of darkness to escape from her pursuers. This was a secret army base and the vehicle doors were hardly ever locked. Why worry about someone stealing them? She easily crawled into one, being sure to keep her body from view. Preparing to hotwire it, she noticed the keys were still in the ignition. She started the vehicle and drove off, ignoring the shots ringing out. These vehicles were bulletproof, the only thing she had to worry about were the guards hopping into vehicles to follow her.
It didn't matter; she already knew where she was going.
She plowed through the front gate, once more ignoring the shots. She sped to a familiar low hanging bridge she had noted however many years ago as she traveled repeatedly through the region. Stopping in the middle, she ran out of the vehicle and made a perfect dive into the water beneath.
She swam along with the current beneath the surface, holding her breath longer than most could. She had been first trained by the best in a country where military service was required by all citizens—even women.
Eventually this water source would increase in current before falling over a cliff. She stayed beneath the surface as long as she dared before rising and searching for an outcropping, grateful for the moonlight that made it easier to see. She swam toward one side, hoping that was the one that would have what she needed.
Just as the current started picking up speed, indicating she had hit a down hill portion, she saw a group of rocks peaking through the surface. She tried to grab hold, slipping off the first one, but it gave her enough resistance to slow her down in order to grab the next.
The mud had long since washed away, so it was just her, clothed in her dark clothing, gripping for all she was worth until she was able to pull herself up and out of the water, clawing at the rocks.
Breathing in relief, she knew it wasn't over yet. She had to get out of this out cropping and find a place to hide in the trees along the forest side. Triad would comb this entire area, all along the riverbank. Hopefully they would eventually assume she had gone down into the falls and perished.
Making her way to land, she fled into the night, finding another vehicle to break a window and hotwire—a couple camping nearby would miss it come morning.
But by then, Seylah would be long gone.
"Now, what am I supposed to do with you," Seylah said to herself, looking down at her stomach.
Discovering only two years had passed since she went into Malivore, she was relieved as secret accounts she set up under pseudonyms were still active and accruing interest.
Not having to struggle to survive, at least financially, was a relief for her. Knowing that her former employer had forgotten she existed was perhaps an even bigger relief.
But that was where the relief ended.
Judging by the size of her stomach, she guessed she was five or six months along. Though given that she had no idea what was in there, it could be more or less.
She didn't know what happened to her in that pit to make this happen, but it tore at her. She trained all her life so no one could ever take advantage of her. She saw it happen to her mother when her father left for the states and started another family. Her mother fell into the worst situations, choosing the worst men and suffering for it. Seylah swore that she would never repeat her mother's mistakes.
To have this happen to her with no memory of how? Or what?
She spent two years in complete isolation, the loneliness a constant. Even before, she never had many friends. Her mother long since dead, as well as her father though he had been dead to her years before—her mother had reported him dead after he left Israel so she could dissolve her marriage without the added stigma of divorce, leaving only one person she wanted to see.
Her little sister.
Her father had another family, so when Seylah was offered a job working in the states, she discretely sought them out in her free time. She never revealed to her employers that they existed, preferring to keep her business to herself. Discovering her father had passed away didn't bother her, but she was curious about the rest of the family. She found his new wife had also passed in a car accident just the year before, leaving behind their only daughter, Cynthia.
At first she had done it out of simple curiosity, wanting to know more about the girl. What she discovered was a comrade in arms. She was much like her, except she volunteered her service to this country while Seylah had been forced into hers. Not that Seylah didn't end up enjoying it more than she thought she would.
Once a month, if she could get away, she would make her way to Kansas to see her little sister. Eventually she befriended her at her favorite local coffee shop. It would be at least a year before Seylah finally told Cynthia the truth of their relation. Fortunately, her sister knew of their father's previous family but always thought they would be lost to her.
From that moment on, they would meet at that same coffee shop—with the worst coffee in Seylah's opinion—once a month. Sometimes Seylah could only get away long enough to stay for an hour, but it didn't matter. It was enough.
Now Seylah longed for that relationship again. She hated to admit she needed anyone, but she did. She needed Cynthia to ground her, to calm the storm threatening to engulf her as she decided what to do with the fetus growing inside of her.
"You can join me," Seylah said with her slight accent. "I don't think there are any other options."
It was the busiest time of morning at the simple little coffee shop that had become a staple of their life. Her sister came to this place every day when she was on leave, so Seylah knew she would see her eventually. She arrived early to garner a table and waited.
Cynthia looked around, noted that she was correct, swished her honey blonde locks back, and sunk gratefully into the seat across from her. "Thank you."
Approachable as Seylah was aloof, Cynthia began chatting like she had known her all her life. That was just the way she was. Tough, but cool as a cucumber.
"What's that you have?" Seylah asked, noting that instead of coffee her sister had a smoothie of some green concoction.
"Vitamins in the grossest form possible," Cynthia held the cup up, giving it a mocking glare before setting it back down. "Can't have coffee right now, but I love the smell of it."
"Why not?" Seylah asked.
"Caffeine is bad for the baby," Cynthia said, before glancing down toward Seylah's own cup and bump. "Yours is decaf?"
"Uh, yes," Seylah lied. She hadn't even thought of that. She was ill prepared for this... she also didn't know how caffeine could hurt the child. She pushed her cup away anyway. "You're with child?"
Eyes twinkling, her sister's face lit up with a smile. "Yes, only a couple months along though. You look like you're nearly there. How far along are you?"
"Quite a few," Seylah hedged. "You're married then?" Cynthia hadn't even been dating anyone when she last met up with her. So much had changed in so little time.
"A year now," she nodded. "He's overseas. He doesn't know yet. Should be quite the surprise on our next video chat."
"Tell me about him," Seylah asked, relaxing as her sister worked her magic, making her feel like somehow everything would eventually work out.
Befriending her sister again proved to be just as easy as the first time. She kept her secret though, not revealing their blood ties again. She also wouldn't know how to explain what happened to her as she had long kept the secret of magical creatures from her. Eventually she did reveal that she didn't know who the father of her child was and, while she didn't explain the circumstances, she did indicate that she wasn't compliant in its conception.
They bonded over being alone in their pregnancies. Cynthia's husband wasn't due home until after the child was born, so she was grateful to have a friend by her side to support her through all the changes in her life. Seylah was grateful to have family with her as she took the biggest step in dealing with her own problem.
An ultrasound.
She knew it was risky to do this at a medical facility, but what other choice did she have? She would make a run for it if something truly scary showed up on that screen. It would mean leaving Cynthia, but if she was harboring a monster, perhaps it would be for the best.
With bated breath and an encouraging smile from her sister, she waited for the ultrasound technician to gasp or scream.
"Everything looks good," the tech said with a smile.
Looking at the screen herself, she saw a form that resembled what an actual human baby should look like. "There's... Nothing looks abnormal?"
"Nope!" the tech said brightly. "A perfectly healthy baby—do you want to know the gender?"
"It doesn't matter," Seylah said, distractedly staring at the screen.
"Boy!" the tech said. "It's a boy!"
Cynthia gripped her hand, smiling at her. "Hey, wouldn't it be cool if I were having a boy too? They could be best buds."
Seylah didn't have the heart to tell her yet that she wouldn't be keeping the baby. Knowing that the child was human changed everything.
Before, she was worried she would have to jump off the nearest cliff to kill whatever was growing inside of her. But, now?
She would give birth to this child, but she couldn't keep it. She didn't want to. She never wanted a child of her own, and due to her circumstances, she would spend the rest of her life looking over her shoulder. She couldn't do that with a child. She didn't want to do that with a child. She didn't ask for this but neither had the child. She would give birth to him, but then she would give him up.
"Seylah?" The tearful voice coming through the phone line worried her.
"What's wrong, Cyn?"
"There... there was an attack. Max, he's...he's gone."
"I'll be right there," Seylah said.
Rushing to be by her sister's side was difficult as her stomach had ballooned even further. She had maybe one more month, and her feet and back were wishing it was over sooner rather than later.
She stayed by her side every step of the way though, gripping her hand during the 15 gun salute, letting go only as the folded flag was handed to her.
After that, Seylah moved in with her. There was no use keeping separate places, not when Cynthia needed her so much more now.
And Seylah still needed her too, for she had one last request.
She needed to give birth at home, not in a hospital. There couldn't be a paper trail between her and the child.
With the birth drawing nearer, she finally told Cynthia her intention.
"You're not keeping him?" Cynthia asked in disbelief.
"I can't," Seylah explained. "I'm not cut out to be a mother. I never even wanted to have kids. If this had never happened to me..."
As she trialed off, Cynthia nodded her understanding.
"And I don't want my name to even be on his birth certificate," she said. "I don't want him to ever track me down. No one should know their life began in such a violent way."
When the day finally arrived, Cynthia had everything ready. Seylah knew despite her wishes if anything went wrong during the birthing her sister would call for help. She sincerely hoped everything went smoothly.
It did.
Long hours after labor began, Cynthia was handing the baby to her so she could cut the cord.
Using a damp towel to wipe his little face, Seylah stared down at the beautiful child lying in her arms.
For one brief moment, she considered keeping him, but that moment didn't last long. Hers was no life for a child. She didn't want to deal with everything that would come. She had to give him up.
But, first, she would name him. Landon. She had always thought that was a beautiful name.
She spent two weeks with the child at home, making sure he grew strong enough and was developing well. Plus, she needed the time to recover before she could continue with her plans.
Cautious that her sister would continue to try to convince her to keep the child, she began to wear her old necklace with Triad's logo in the privacy of Cynthia's home as a reminder that her enemies were close and she shouldn't even try to entertain the thought of keeping the child.
As suspected, during that time, Cynthia dropped many subtle hints that she should keep him. Even taking photos of Seylah with Landon against her wishes. Seylah destroyed all of the photos though.
She didn't know Cynthia kept one.
She also wouldn't know until seventeen years passed that her sister followed her that fateful day and waited for her to walk away before tucking the photo into the carrier with baby Landon, providing him with a name and clues to aid him in his search if he ever wanted to find his family—if he ever wanted to find his way back home.
Present Day...
Leaving for Kansas took longer than they anticipated. Hope and Clarke ended up spending all of the following day fighting monsters. By the time they were finally able to get on the road, night had fallen. Hope insisted they reach Lawrence before they stopped for the night, so he kept driving.
"Maybe Lizzie should get a burner phone too," Hope said. "That way I can call her and she can call me and we don't have to worry about being traced. Right?"
Looking heavenward, Clarke said, "I agree she should have one and give us the number, but only for an emergency. Look...I know you're bored but—"
"I'm not bored," Hope said with a look of surprise.
He raised an eyebrow at her. If she wasn't, then why was she being so quiet in between fighting monsters and kept wanting to call her friend?
Sighing, Hope said, "I'm just trying to distract myself from making a decision."
"In regards to?"
"I just...we don't know if you're immortal still," she said. "I keep thinking maybe I should be doing this alone."
"No."
"But—"
"No."
He pulled over to the side of the road. Stopping so he could turn to face her and make sure she heard him loud and clear.
"I'm not leaving you alone."
"If you die, you won't really have a choice in the matter," she said.
"You're stuck with me whether you like it or not," he said firmly.
"Okay," she said. Maybe she would stop feeling like she was being selfish now that he had taken the decision away from her. He didn't want to leave her alone. She couldn't really argue with that.
She gave him a small smile.
"For the record, I like it," she said.
He smirked at her before putting the car in drive again and taking off.
She quickly wrote out and sent a fire message to Lizzie about getting a burner phone. At least a fire message couldn't be traced by Triad.
He had hardly driven five miles after that before a large burst of fire flew at them in the darkness.
Cursing, Clarke swerved clear of the flame.
They pulled over immediately to investigate. There was an unspoken rule that they got clear of the vehicle as soon as monsters attacked so they didn't find themselves stranded.
Getting out, they ran for the woods to draw the monster away from the main road so there wouldn't be any witnesses even in the dark.
"Another one!?" Hope exclaimed as she ran. "Isn't this, like, the fifth one today?!"
"What, you thought they were gonna let up?" Clarke said, sprinting behind her.
They burst through the trees and came to a wide clearing with little to no cover.
She could see a large house in the distance with a barn far enough away from the house they wouldn't draw attention.
As another huge fire ball came through the trees, burning everything in its path before it hit the ground, she yelled, "Go for the barn!"
"Don't want to fight it here?" he asked.
"Not when you don't have anything to hide behind and I can't see what kind of monster I'm fighting," she said, racing forward again.
"Damn it, Hope," he muttered. He could take care of himself. He thought she already knew that. Why was she being so protective all of a sudden?
"Fire and barns don't mix!" He yelled at her but kept following her anyway.
They made it to the barn. She motioned for him to go inside while she turned back to search for their latest adversary.
Hope looked sharply all around, her vision seeing things in the dark most normally couldn't, but she didn't see anything. Not wanting to go far from Clarke in case she had to protect him, she went back inside and closed the barn door.
She sprinted from one end to the other, cursing when she saw the back side was wide open. If the monster circled around back, it could already be in there with them.
"Clarke?" she called out. "Where are you?" There was no answer.
Hearing shuffling from one of the horse stalls, she ran to it. Seeing a horse, of course, she decided to look in all the stalls.
At the third one, she was faced with a vision of a woman that practically glowed with long blonde hair, elf-like ears, a bright band around her head, and a short outfit made of white material that flowed around her.
She took it all in before the woman extended her hand, forming a large ball of fire that she shot straight at Hope above the stall door.
"Expello!" Hope said, stopping the fire ball and sending it back at the woman, causing the stall door to fall forward off its hinges with the force.
When the fire ball missed its mark, hitting the back side of the stall, Hope remembered Clarke saying something about fire and barns. Cursing at seeing the fire hit the hay, she quickly put up a boundary spell around the cell, creating a force field so that nothing could get out or in—not fire, and especially not the strange woman.
The woman let loose with another fire ball but it sprang back at her this time when it hit the force field.
"That works too," Clarke said, coming up next to her.
She glanced at him. "Glad to see you're alive."
"I saw her," he shrugged. "Couldn't give myself away."
"Right," she said. "Now, what am I supposed to do with her?"
She looked at the woman in the stall, who was looking at her silently now.
"Kill me," Clarke said.
"Don't temp me," she grumbled.
"Kill me," Clarke said again.
Looking at Clarke, noting the change in his voice, she saw his eyes were glazed over. She glanced back at the woman in the stall who was still staring at her.
"What did you—"
"He tortured us all," Clarke said. "In the dark, he made us tell him all of our secrets, everything about our powers. We were all alone until the cages opened. He will never let us free. Not all of us are evil, but all can only do his bidding."
"Who are you?" Hope asked the woman.
"I am Joan, of Wad. Together with my beloved, Jack, we ruled the pixies. We meant no harm to others, just spread a little mischief for travelers, and guided them home with my wad—my torch—when asked...
"I don't want to hurt you. You have to kill me."
"Isn't there a way to free you?" Hope asked. She had read about the Queen of the Pixies in Cornish Folklore, as well as Jack of Lantern. She thought Joan would've been much smaller though.
"No. I revealed all my secrets except for this one. Mind control. Not even your legends know of it. I didn't know why he wanted to know my powers, could he access them? If so, well, you see why I kept my secret."
"What does that have to do with killing you?"
"Because he will know, if not right now, it's only a matter of time. I need you to kill me before he figures it out. Kill me before he forces me to kill you."
"I could try to figure out another way..." Hope offered.
"There's no time. You frighten him. You are the warrior this world needs to stop him. Stop this darkness and maybe one day I can be reunited with my beloved."
With great reluctance, Hope asked, "How do I... kill you?"
"You must put out the light. Destroy its source. The crown."
Hope looked down, fortifying herself silently.
Clarke blinked. "That wasn't pleasant."
Hope turned around and walked with determination to the wall across from the stall. Grabbing the axe, she turned back toward the woman.
Sprinting forward as Joan once again conjured a ball of fire, Hope used her werewolf agility to jump high into a forward pounce, dropping the force field as she flipped over Joan's head.
Before Joan could even turn around, Hope landed swinging. The axe swung into the crown, destroying it and burying into the top half of Joan's skull.
The fire all around the stall went out, as did the light in the crown.
The pixie queen collapsed.
Hope let go of the axe, stone faced despite the tears now sliding silently down her cheeks.
"Yep, that's me," Hope said. "A warrior."
She left the stall, Clarke following close behind.
"You're crying," he stated the obvious.
She wiped at her eyes and shrugged, continuing her walk out of the barn.
"You could've let me do it," he said, seeing how much it bothered her. He followed her.
She shrugged again.
"Each one makes it a little easier," she said.
"For what?" he asked.
She stopped and looked at him. "To do what we both know I might have to in order to end all of this."
He stared, surprised she had even contemplated having to kill Landon.
"I know you don't care," she said. "But for my sake...I hope it doesn't come to that."
With that, she turned and continued walking back across the clearing to the car.
She couldn't help but wonder if she would ever stop feeling like a monster.
13 years ago...
Five years after the birth of her son saw Seylah living a pleasant, if cautious life.
With Cynthia's help, she opened her own little coffee house, one with coffee much better than her sister's favorite. Since she loved to bake, she also served pastries and pies. The shop was moderately successful. She didn't have identification she wanted to chance using, but she wanted to run her own business. Putting everything in Cynthia's name made things much easier.
She didn't spend as much time with Cynthia anymore as life had many big changes for her. Her sister struggled with making a life for herself and her children. Nearly half a year after giving birth, Cynthia gave in to the loneliness with a one night stand that left her expecting again.
Having two little ones to chase after as well as maintaining a full time job made little time to spare for Seylah.
Seylah didn't mind. Now that the worst part of her life to date had passed, she just wanted to relax in the cautious peace she found for herself. They still made plans to get together at least once a month, and Cynthia stopped by for a coffee-to-go quite frequently. Seylah made it a point to never see her sister's children. Cynthia assumed it was too painful for her since she had given up her own child. The truth was, Seylah just really didn't like kids.
One bright and beautiful Sunday morning, a trip to the local market didn't go as planned.
She had just placed some tomatoes in her basket and excused herself as she walked around a man in her path.
Glancing up, she made eye contact with the man who gave her a surprised look.
Taking it in stride, she kept walking, but she knew something was wrong.
That man had recognized her, as she had recognized him. She had last seen him many years ago. He worked as a scientist for her former employers, Triad Industries.
She observed him as she checked out. She watched as he checked out too, then she followed him home.
Scoping out the house, she determined no one else was home before she rang the doorbell.
Seeing her, he quickly tried to slam the door shut but it was no use. She held up her gun, preparing to end his life, when he hollered out, "Wait! Wait! I can help you!"
"I don't need any help," she said, her finger ready at the trigger.
"I can restore the memories!"
She hesitated but still determined to shoot him if need be.
"How?"
"I don't work for Triad anymore," he said. "My wife got sick and they let me go to take care of her."
"You have thirty seconds," she had no patience for ridiculous details.
"But when I did, my colleague and I were tasked with running all kinds of tests on the material from the pit," he hurried to explain. "One day we discovered a way to reverse it. To return all the memories."
She raised an eyebrow. She didn't think Triad would take kindly to that.
"My partner decided to use the serum, to see if it would work," he said. "When it did, he was quick to report our findings. He didn't mention me at all, but only because he wanted all the glory for himself."
"They killed him," she said.
"Yes," he nodded. "They didn't want something like that to exist."
"You took it," she observed.
"Yes," he nodded. "But only after I found a way to leave."
"What did you mean," she asked, "you could help me?"
"I have another vial," he said. "I could give it to you. There has to be someone you want to remember you. If you spare my life, I could help give you that?"
Thinking, she stepped back, lowering her weapon slightly. "Where is it?"
"Downstairs," he said hopefully.
"Let's go."
And give it to her he did, right before she shot him quickly through the forehead.
She pocketed the vial, knowing she wouldn't give it to Cynthia because she didn't need to, but she would tuck it away for a rainy day.
The man, though, he had to go. He recognized her.
She couldn't let anyone live who remembered her.
Present Day...
They had finally made it to Kansas but still weren't in Lawrence.
Hope decided she really needed to get some sleep, so they stopped in southern Kansas. They left bright and early the following morning though.
"Why is Kansas so important anyway?" Clarke asked. "Yeah, its possible Seylah sought out a friend or family, but what does that have to do with anything?"
"If it's a family member, we have a bloodline," Hope said. "You, of all people, should know the importance of a blood link." She used her finger to draw a magical line in the air, just to be silly.
He laughed slightly at that. He did indeed. He wouldn't be there now if it hadn't been for his essence linking to her via her blood.
"Do you think that will help get Malivore out of Landon?" he asked. He still thought it would be best to kill Landon and get it over with, but she was struggling with the idea so he would humor her.
"I don't know," she shrugged. "Doctor Saltzman and Lizzie are working through the possibilities."
Seeing a rabbit in the middle of the road, she said quickly, "Don't hit the bunny!" She had enough senseless death to last a lifetime.
He missed it but not from trying, "It's a rabbit. If it doesn't move, its road kill." He shrugged.
He passed another rabbit, but this time he noticed something about it.
"Did that thing have teeth?"
"I think two?" she said, laughing. "Right up in the front? Kind of big and bulky?"
"There was nothing bulky about that," he said, twisting to try to see it again. "There was a bunch of them and they were pointy."
"Have you been watching B-rated horror flicks with Lizzie or something?" she asked. "Sounds like some random movie with scary rabid rabbits attacking."
Just then, one hopped from out of nowhere right onto the hood of the car, and yep, there were teeth. Lots of scary pointy teeth. Since when did rabbits hiss?
"Hit the bunny!" Hope exclaimed.
Clarke grabbed his gun and rolled down his window. Angling the gun, he managed to shoot the thing off the hood without damaging the car.
The rabbit basically exploded. Good. A 9 mm at close range on something so small would definitely blow it apart.
"There are more," she said, pointing.
"Looks like I finally get a turn," he said, happy to do something other than driving for once. "Climb over and take the wheel. I'll pick them off one by one."
She looked at him in amazement. "I don't drive. I haven't driven since I was fifteen."
He shook his head in exasperation. "Of course you don't. Gas on the right, break in the middle. This thing steers," he said motioning to the steering wheel.
"Come on," he insisted.
She really didn't feel like stopping the car to deal with a bunch of rabid bunnies, so why not let him handle it?
She looked at his side of the car. "How do I do this?"
He used the seat lever to slide back a little. He leaned back and motioned for her to move over in front of him. "Once you're over here, I'll take my foot off the gas and you can hold yours down while I slide out and over there."
She did as he instructed and ended up sitting on his lap before she steadied herself enough to lift up for him to scoot over.
"Sorry, sorry," she apologized when he grunted on contact.
Once he made it over, he glanced at her.
"Go fast enough they can't overrun us, but not too fast that I can't get a clean shot off. Moving target practice. This should be fun." He grinned.
"Right," she said, focusing on her footing and staying in the proper lane.
He rolled the passenger window down and shot another one.
"Don't you have a silencer or something?" she asked. That was really loud.
"I'll use it next time," he said before shooting another one, and then another.
"This is ridiculous," she said. "I don't remember any legends about killer bunnies."
"Ever heard of the Easter bunny?" he asked.
"Peter Cottontail, hipidy hopidy, and all that. Yes, yes, I have," she said.
He shook his head. "Long ago, rabbits were regarded as familiars for witches by some. The witches, who were being persecuted, used black magic to turn hares into what you see. They were spelled to attack any who were enemy to the witches. If they were friend, not foe, the hare was docile and left these beautifully decorated eggs for them. Thus, where part of today's tradition came from."
"After this, I'm seriously gonna reconsider celebrating any holidays!" she said, correcting the wheel when she started drifting to the side. At least she ran over a rabbit in the process.
"Except Christmas," he stated, smiling his lopsided grin at her.
"Except Christmas," she confirmed, grinning right back.
"Watch the road!" he said when she started drifting again. "Stay in the lane!"
"Sorry, sorry!"
Lizzie was beginning to feel like Hope's supernatural secretary.
Do this spell, get a burner phone. Take out the trash. Okay, that last one was just made up, but whatever. Hope spoke and she jumped.
Not that Lizzie minded much since this problem was partly hers to fix. She was just really impatient. Who knew she would have to wait an entire day for Vincent Griffin to get back to her on how to do that lineage spell? The current leader of the witch faction in New Orleans had apparently been busy, and when he did contact her, he wondered why she wanted to do the same spell he did last year? He told Landon then that his family was in Kansas. Lawrence, to be exact.
Making a face, she patiently explained the circumstances, to which he apologized for taking so long. Rude. Hope probably could've done this spell last year herself if she hadn't been trying to get Landon on a bus and as far from the school as quickly as possible. The only lineage spell the rest of them knew required blood. Mr. Griffin knew one that just required DNA.
In the meantime, Lizzie was going back and forth with her father, trying to figure out what to do if there were other blood ties.
"Dad, if this actually works, what's our next step?" she asked, preparing the spell first thing that morning.
"Well, I was thinking..." Alaric began. "So, Malivore is in Landon. But according to Hope, the pit is a hell dimension now that exists separate from Malivore... Malivore had his own body before he dissolved into the pit though. I'm still trying to theorize this all out, but what if a body, his body, actually still exists separate from the pit too? What if Josie recreated his body when she recreated Clarke's?"
"But how is that even possible?" Lizzie asked. "I mean, what if Landon just fell into the pit somehow and that gave Malivore the chance to take him over?"
"Also a possibility," Alaric sighed. "But if there actually is a body, then he would probably store it in the pit, right?"
"What does this have to do with Landon's possible family ties?"
"If a body existed, we could destroy it," he explained. "... Somehow."
"How are we supposed to do that if it's in the pit?" she asked.
"Because we know someone in the pit who will probably be more than willing to help us out," he said. "Especially if it would mean saving her son."
"So, let me get this straight," Lizzie said. "If there's another family member, you want to use their blood tie to connect to Landon's mother—not Landon—inside of a hell dimension and send her on a supernatural scavenger hunt for a body that may or may not exist? And then have her somehow destroy it? From inside the pit?"
"Maybe we could figure out a way to get her and the body out instead?" Alaric suggested. "That way we could destroy it?"
"Seeing as how three long dead supernaturals were the only ones who could destroy the body to begin with," Lizzie said, "I don't think this'll work. But it's all we've got right now."
"If there're no blood ties, it doesn't really matter anyway. So, go ahead and do the spell," Alaric said. "MG?"
MG, who had been patiently waiting for his turn, came forward for Lizzie to grasp his hands. The lineage spell could take a while to show them what they needed to know, so she would siphon power from him throughout the process. An added bonus being that Hope's blood still ran through his veins, so it would barely affect him.
She grabbed Landon's hair brush to put in the sacred circle to prepare, hoping there was enough DNA from the hair to make sure it worked.
Holding on to MG, Lizzie closed her eyes to begin but had a thought. She opened her eyes suddenly.
"Wait. If getting Clarke his body back also got Malivore his body back...what happens to Clarke if we destroy Malivore?"
Alaric didn't have an answer. "Let's...just find out if there's a link for now. We'll figure out the rest later..."
"Because Hope would be alone out there somewhere if something happened to him," Lizzie went on, ignoring what he said.
"If Malivore is destroyed, Hope won't have to worry about fighting monsters anymore, so she won't need Clarke," Alaric said.
She got the feeling Hope wouldn't see it that way.
Seeing her face, he hurried to say, "Like I said, we'll figure the rest out later. We don't know anything right now."
Placated for the moment, and knowing that either way they needed to know if there was a connection, Lizzie proceeded with the spell.
When all was said and done, three tiny white lights shown on the map.
And all three were in Mystic Falls.
1 year ago...
When her son showed up and she saw the photograph, Seylah realized immediately what her sister had done.
Seylah also didn't believe the boy was who he said he was at first.
What seventeen year old boy had the resources to track her down? No, she figured this 'chance' encounter had more to do with the necklace she wore in the picture than anything else. Cynthia had set into motion the events that would make Seylah's cautiously pleasant life crumble to dust.
Her paranoia convinced her this was a spy and torture was the only way to deal with one of those.
When he actually mentioned monsters and monsters began to attack, she realized that maybe this could be the real deal. Running to hide him, she tried to figure out what to do next. She gave him up to protect him from the very things chasing them. Monsters and Triad.
She listened to his entire story and his struggles with foster care, so when his new school's headmaster showed up with Hope, her son's girlfriend, she felt confident in leaving him with them. He may have lived a crappy life for some time, but now he was definitely better off. He just needed to escape the very same people who had taken her life from her.
She only told this Alaric the truth because she already made her decision to go back to the pit. Everyone needed to forget her again, including her son. Still, she knew things could be written down, so she refused to tell her former employer's location or even it's name. She also lied and said she had woken in the middle of nowhere when she was released from the pit. Again, to preserve its location.
In the end, returning to the pit was easier than she thought it would be. She knew it couldn't end the same as before, she had long since had a procedure done to prevent any future pregnancies. She also knew that her entire existence would be erased once more, though she had taken precautions so that the one most important person to her would never forget again. It was best that Landon forget all about her and the circumstances of his birth. It was best that everyone else forgot too, so that Triad couldn't find him.
She would do this one last thing for him.
Because, in her own way, she loved him.
2 weeks after that...
Cynthia stood, absentmindedly clasping her hand around her necklace. She suddenly realized she didn't remember it. She had worn it for a couple weeks now, wearing it without even thinking about it. She took it off and looked inside the locket. There was a picture of her kids on one side, and some strange numbers engraved on the other. What they signified, she couldn't remember. Maybe she was losing her mind?
This wasn't the first time she had that thought. When she had gone to her favorite coffee shop, the owner didn't remember her which was weird because she had been going there for over twenty years, hadn't she? For some reason, the taste of the coffee wasn't as good as she remembered either.
Shrugging, she closed the locket just as she heard a knock at her front door.
"Steve?" she asked, surprised to see an officer from the county that she knew.
"I thought that was you," he said. "We've had a report of vandalism at one of your properties. We've been trying to reach the direct contact, but it seems that person's missing. So the next step was to contact the owner."
"So...why don't you contact the owner?" she asked, confused. And what did he mean, 'one of your properties'? She only owned the house she was standing in.
"That's why I'm here..." he said, frowning. "You are."
The next few hours were the most confusing blur of activity since the coffee shop moment. How could she possibly forget that she owned a property? The deed said it all though, and it had her signature. She filed the necessary paperwork to report the vandalism. She went to a coffee shop that she swore she had never been to before. Who was Seylah? Or was that just a name used on the shop?
She couldn't tell Steve if anything was missing because she didn't know! She did know she would have to spend a lot of time throwing things out. The majority of the food items in the fridge had gone bad. The fruits on the counter in the back were growing mold and fruit flies swarmed her when she entered.
Steve told her the primary contact for the property was listed as a Seylah Smith, and she lived at a home that was also in Cynthia's name. They didn't know whether to list her as a missing person or not because no one could tell if she had ever existed to begin with, and there were no photographs to provide a description.
Steve finally left when he did everything he was required to do, and she sat bewildered, trying to understand.
She returned to the back office and started going through the desk. Maybe that would offer some clues? No photographs were found, nothing personal at all. Everything else was organized pristinely: receipts, work orders, and payroll... that confused her even more. If this Seylah was missing, wouldn't there be employees searching for her too? Wouldn't they wonder why their place of employment hadn't opened in weeks?
During her search, she discovered a safe hidden in the floorboards under a rather sturdy table. She found it strange considering there was already a large heavy safe sitting by the wall in plain view. The vandals hadn't been able to access that one either. Sighing, she resolved to call in a safe expert along with a locksmith tomorrow.
Sitting back, she grasped her necklace and worried it as she looked around, still trying to understand how any of this could be real.
Suddenly, she remembered the numbers etched in the locket. I wonder...
She took off the necklace and went to open the floor safe using the numbers etched inside.
Shocked when the combination actually worked; she opened it to reveal a photo of herself next to a woman with long black hair. Their facial structures were remarkably similar, though she had a slight dimple in her chin from her mother. Who was this? Was it the missing Seylah? Why did she look like her? The only other thing in the safe was a vial of some sort with a note attached to it.
Ready to go down the rabbit hole? Drink this.
She knew she shouldn't drink strange random things, but there was too much going on here that was unexplained. Properties she owned but didn't remember buying, a locket she didn't remember wearing, a coffee shop owner who hadn't seen her in so long she forgot her, and now a photograph she definitely never remembered taking.
Feeling like she was losing her mind even more, she opened the lid on the vial. Sniffing it, she shook her head.
"Bottom's up."
5 months ago...
Living in solitude and isolation most of her life, the endless darkness didn't bother Seylah that much anymore, especially not now that she had thoughts of her son to occupy herself. All she had were a couple of days with him where he spent most of the time passed out from the drug she slipped into his food. But, oh, could she imagine it.
She envisioned him growing up, imagining how his life must've been. She saw him finding moments of happiness somewhere along the way, wondering how a child could go through so much and still come out a good person. And he was a good person. Once she accepted him for what he was, she could see it for the truth. Her boy was stubborn and surrounded by danger, but he was also surrounded by people who cared about him. One press of a button on a magical bracelet and they came running.
She thought about the girl, Hope, and wondered how Landon's relationship with her was going. The girl was strong, sassy, and fiercely protective. She liked that about her.
Time must've passed but she had no idea how long for. She wondered if she would age in here until she withered and died.
Sometimes she wished she could fall asleep and dream the time away. But she couldn't. Not here. Sleep wasn't needed or possible, so dreams were obsolete.
There was only memories and imaginings and nothing but darkness...
Until suddenly everything changed.
Dropping from out of the void, like a lock had been sprung on her cage, she was suddenly able to move. She wondered around, barely able to see, but see she did, enough to be wary of the shadows she saw beneath the near darkness.
What had changed? She didn't know.
And she couldn't help but wonder if she would have been better off still stuck in her cage, alone but safe from whatever the darkness hid.
2 weeks ago...
"Oh no, I do not like this at all!" Chad said, looking around. It was dark and scary and he could barely see anything. What had he signed up for?
"Hope?" Chad called out. "Lizzie?! I changed my mind! Get me out!"
"Hope!" he yelled.
He cowered back when he heard an answering growl in the distance.
"You're going to have them all on you in ten seconds if you don't keep quiet," he heard a voice whisper to him.
"Who are you?" Chad squinted, trying to see despite the dark.
"It matters not," a female voice with a slight accent replied. "You know Hope?"
"Yeah, she's kind of why I'm here," he said, lowering his voice as instructed. "Like, it was her idea but I went along with it and jumped in, I just didn't think..."
"You chose to come here?" she asked.
"Yeah," he looked down. "It was my fault someone died. I needed to do my part to fix it."
"You and I have something in common then," she said.
"How do we get out of here?" he asked.
"We don't," she said. "We just survive."
"I'm not sure how good I'll be at that," he said.
"We never know what we're capable of until we're put to the test," she said.
"I really hope I don't fail," Chad said.
Present Day...
Cynthia hung up the phone and laid back in her chair, sighing. The morning had only just begun, but it was going to be a long day.
"Hey, Sheriff Mac?"
Cynthia glanced up at her deputy.
"We've got another 187."
Sheriff Cynthia Machado rose immediately. "Let's go."
To be continued…
I listened to "Warrior" by Avril Lavigne on repeat while writing this chapter. I feel like that song perfectly sums up all the women here. I encourage everyone to give it a listen.
See my profile for more on "We Are Warriors."