Warnings, as the title of the other one suggested, the child sacrificing god, Moloch is in this.
A lesson in theology
The group, consisting of Clarke, Monroe, Niylah, Wells, Finn, Pascal, Harper, Fox and Jasper, turned and ran, as the figure bearing his helmet and an actual machete, began to go up the stairs towards them.
"So, there's now a god worshipping murderer on our asses," Clarke said as they moved, "I feel like this time, it's definitely my fault."
"Clarke," Monroe hissed as they moved, her hand around Clarke's protectively, "Now is not the time."
As they were halfway across from where they had stood by the stairs, Clarke came to a stop, making Monroe stop, and causing several of the others to slow down.
"Wait a second," Clarke said, "We're all armed. That guy just has a machete on him. Why don't we just shoot him?"
Wells glanced over Clarke's shoulder at the figure that had gotten to the top of the stairs.
"I mean, she's got a point," Pascal said.
Looking fearfully at Clarke, at her darling Clarke, Monroe felt her chest hurt at the possibility of any harm befalling Clarke. And if it meant killing one more person to protect Clarke? Could she refuse.
"I've got this then," Monroe said, daring to release Clarke's hand only for a few moments, to reach to her belt and pull out her gun, taking the safety off and aim it at the oncoming figure, who she could see gradually, as the mist cleared up.
The man got closer, now running, and Monroe had a clear shot, pulling the trigger.
The bullet clearly hit its target, because the charging man stiffened, then dropped down on his stomach, the machete falling out of his grip.
Monroe breathed out in relief and Clarke laughed. "Well, he was easy to get rid of," she said.
They got closer, Monroe lowering her hand with the gun. They stepped closer to where the body lay…when the hand of the supposedly unmoving figure, suddenly moved, lifting up and grabbing the machete's handle.
"What the-?" Wells asked, jumping back as the others gasped.
The apparently, not so dead attacker, lifted himself up to his feet fully and Clarke and the others, save for Niylah, gaped.
There was a bullet wound on the man, alright. It was right on his neck. Right at the front. There was…there was no way this man could be standing on his own. He by alrights, should have been dead!
"On a second thought," Clarke said, feeling the blood leave her, "I think it's time to go now."
"Yeah, Monroe said, gun in one hand, her other hand grabbing Clarke's hand and she, Niylah, Wells and the others began to run again, "Definitely time to go."
The man, who Clarke had gotten a better look at, after he had gotten up and was closer to them, was tall and thin, but his face was a mask of hate, with short, straight, light brown hair and burning dark blue eyes.
The helmet that adorned his head, was gray and curved, not dissimilar to a Roman helmet, only without the plumage and with ornate curved metal add-ons.
There were odd bird wing shapes along the helmet.
The group of nine, made their way down another path, that curved around where they may have been before.
Honestly, they didn't know, it wasn't like this place was very distinct in any fashion, whatsoever.
Fortunately, after discovering that their would be attacker, was not as mortal as they thought him to be, they had run much faster and were out of the man's reach.
However, the man in question, Damore, realized, upon seeing the nine figures disappear into the distance, hissed and dropped his arm to his right-hand side, his hand still gripping onto the machete.
He knew he could not catch up with them. He sucked in a breath and his free, left hand, reached to the collar of his loose-fitting brown shirt, reached under it, and pulled out the rectangular, bronze pendant which hung from his neck, by a thin, brown cord, and he pressed his thumb against the tab. He whispered, feeling the dread build up in his chest, "Master, forgive me. I wasn't able to get you a new kill yet. But I will."
He felt his skin heat up, and a sharp pain slammed into his throat, as the bullet thrust it's way out of his throat. Damore yelled, eyes clenching shut, as the bullet ejected from his throat, and blood flowed down his neck.
The bullet dropped to the ground and slowly, Damore's throat began to heal up, till it wasn't even visible, save for the blood.
Damore gasped, smiling. "Thank you, my lord," he said, grateful.
A low, deadly voice spoke then, a voice only he and others like him could hear, (Don't fail me again, Damore. Or the next person to die slowly and in pain, will be you.)
Damore swallowed and answered dutifully, like any servant of Moloch would, "Yes, my lord."
He placed the pendant back under his shirt, then began to move again, no bullet wound in his neck, armed still with the machete.
He would have to offer up a sacrifice, soon.
With the other group, Anya, Sekena, Anya's other warriors, their captive, Abby, Joey, Leah, Trina and Monty, kept moving, and as they reached an odd turn in the path, a good number of them gasped when they saw a light up ahead.
"Oh, hey," Monty said sheepishly, "Light at the end of the tunnel."
"Yeah," Trina said, "Let's hope there are no huge alligators or explosions or murderous tribes waiting for us."
"You sound like Clarke," Monty chuckled.
"That might not be such a bad thing," Trina said, "Given our experiences," Trina stopped herself from saying, "Not to mention what might have happened to us if Clarke hadn't left and we went with her."
No, Trina wouldn't say that. She had promised Monroe that she wouldn't tell anyone about the different timeline.
And if that was in fact, what was happening here, then it was probably better if no one else knew.
Since who knew how Jasper would react if he knew just why Clarke hated him. Or how Finn would react if he knew he'd been killed in the last timeline by Clarke as a mercy, in order to keep him from being tortured to death.
At what Trina had said out loud, Monty said after a moment, "That's a good point."
"Quiet," Anya hissed, holding her hand up, as she neared the opening, where the light was coming in, "Be perfectly silent."
Anya got closer to the opening and walked out, stepping into the light.
Trina breathed out in relief, when she saw natural sunlight bathe over Anya, indicating that they were close to the outside of…wherever this place was.
Anya looked from side to side, making sure there was no threat nearby. She then looked into the tunnel of where the others were and nodded to them.
"Alright," Sekena said, moving to the exit, "Everyone walk out."
She walked to the opening and went through and the Grounders carrying Abby, walked out and Trina, Monty, Joey and Leah, followed them.
Trina almost laughed when she saw the sunny outside world.
She had worried they might be stuck there forever.
"Where was that?" She asked in disbelief, looking back to the opening.
"Don't you Sky People pay attention?" Anya asked dryly, "That was a dimension that ran from different countries and continents, to here, in Ytaaliy. And it will close up eventually. Which is why I need to go back inside and get Klark and Niylah."
"I'm going back in too," Sekena said, "I'm not leaving Klark."
Anya nodded.
Anya then looked to the Grounders she and Sekena worked with and barked some orders at them in her native language.
The Grounders gave muffled answers back. And Trina presumed they were going to be stationed there to guard Abby and her and Monty.
Anya looked to Joey and Leah. "We will be right back," she said, "With Klark, Munroh, and the others."
Joey and Leah looked at attention. "Can't we come with you to find Monroe?" Leah asked hopefully.
Anya shook her head. "No," she ordered, "The two of you are too young and you haven't been trained properly. You are not going back in. You both are staying here."
At Joey and Leah's huffs, both Anya and Sekena bolted back into the opening of the portal and went after Clarke and the others.
Trina and Monty saw some of other Grounders blocked the children from trying to go back into the portal. Trina looked around the area they were in.
Trina knew instantly that they were in a city. Large buildings made of stone, clearly very old. There were several modern buildings too.
Trina had no idea where they were.
Back in the portal, Clarke, Monroe, Niylah, Wells, Finn, Pascal, Harper, Fox and Jasper kept moving, checking behind them ever so often, to make sure that the man that was armed with the machete, wasn't gaining on them, which he wasn't.
Clarke shook her head as they moved, "So, now there are people that can heal from a bullet in the neck?"
"Apparently," Wells said, "Turns out, the world is a lot more bizarre than we thought it was."
Clarke almost laughed. That went without saying.
Gargoyles existed. Time travel existed. Gods existed. Magic existed. And as it turned out, people that could out, people that could heal from a bullet to the neck, existed too.
So, yeah, there was that new batch of insanity that they had to deal with now.
Clarke blamed herself a lot. A lot. But this? For this, Clarke blamed herself more than anything.
She had consciously made the decision to get them away from the Shallow Valley tribe, and it had ended with them here.
If there was ever a time when she had endangered her people, it was now.
When they made their way around some more large mounds of dark ground, they ran into someone, and Monroe gasped, raising the gun, before seeing the woman in front of them.
It was Anya.
Monroe heaved out a breath of relief. "Anya!" She exclaimed, shocked.
Clarke gasped, seeing the older woman. Sekena got close up next to Anya.
"Clarke," Sekena said, smiling, looking at Clarke with such soft relief, "You're safe."
"Yeah," Clarke said, snorting with quiet laughter, trying not to feel affected by the loving and tender way in which Sekena looked at her, knowing that Sekena wished for her to be the woman's daughter, "But maybe we should run now, or else that'll change soon."
"Right, let's go," Monroe said and they kept moving.
Getting the idea, Sekena and Anya started running with them, Sekena and Anya both staying close to Clarke.
Anya led all of them to the tunnel that she had found with the others.
"Oh, hey," Monroe said, grinning, "Sunlight."
They all filed out of the tunnel and reached the outside, which was when they saw the group of people outside of the hole.
There were the other Grounders that Anya and Sekena had had with them. There were Trina and Monty.
And there was Joey and Leah.
"Monroe!" Both Joey and Leah cried out as Clarke, Monroe and Niylah jumped out of the portal, with Wells, Pascal, Finn, Harper, Fox, Jasper, Anya and Sekena.
"Hey, kids," Monroe laughed breathlessly as everyone got out.
Joey and Leah both ran to Monroe and hugged her, clinging to her tightly.
"It's okay, kids," Monroe said, quickly putting her gun away, to make sure it wasn't anywhere near the children, "We're all out now."
"Yeah, well," Clarke said, turning back to the portal, "Is there a way of making sure that guy doesn't follow us out here?"
"Not that I'm aware of," Niylah said, "So, we should keep moving."
"What does Klark mean by that?" Anya aksed Niylah.
Niylah looked at Onya, aware that for now, Onya could be trusted, "There was a follower of the god in this region. He was shot in the throat, but he got back up. Clearly the magic of the deity he obeys, keeps him alive."
Onay sucked in a breath. "Wonderful," She grumbled, "Quickly, we need to move."
"No shit," Clarke said, glaring at Anya, before moving. Monroe held one child's hand in each of hers and led them after Clarke. Niylah, Wells, Finn, Pascal and Trina, who reunited and hugged each other, Harper, Fox, Jasper, Monty, Anya, Sekena and the Grounders with Abby, followed.
Clarke checked behind them every so often, to make sure that the man wasn't out of the hole and following them.
He wasn't. At least, not yet.
Abby tried to talk to Clarke every so often, which would lead to Sekena or Anya snarling at the woman to shut her mouth.
Clarke didn't want to do anything that might indicate to Anya that she appreciated anything the older woman did, but hearing Anya snarl at Abby and cowing Abby into submission, made her smile, smile wide.
She tried to turn her head before either Sekena or Anya could see her smile, but she caught their expressions out of the corner of her eye, and she saw that they saw her smile, because she noticed them smiling soon after.
She wanted to curse them out, but decided against it. Their main objective right now, was getting away from that man with the machete or anyone like him.
The group made their way across a cobblestone road, and Clarke tried to get an idea where specifically in Italy they were, by observing the buildings and the roads and what road signs remained after the bombs.
Clarke was by no means an expert on Earth geography, let alone geography that was outside of the lands of the tribes. All she knew of was the territory that she and the others had survived in as long as they had.
But she knew nothing about the different countries and continents outside of where the tribes were located.
Sure, she knew pretty much what every educated Ark person knew about the different countries. Rough histories and that was all.
Clarke, like with all countries and continents, save for the history of the U.S., had only a rough knowledge of the history of Italy.
And she barely knew anything about it, anyway.
She looked at Niylah as she spoke, but right now, if any of the other Grounders answered her, even with her anger, she suspected she'd appreciate it, "Do you have any idea, where in 'Ytaaliy,' we are, right now?"
Niylah shook her head. "Not sure," she confessed, "We just know that wherever this god rules in Ytaaliy, it's in the northern region of Ytaaliy. Which means this is likely somewhere in the North."
Clarke nodded. Okay. Somewhere in northern Italy. Which told her almost nothing. Just that they were right now, somewhere far away from the "heel" of the "boot," that was the country of Italy.
South was around the heel. At least, if she remembered her limited geography of Italy correctly, it was.
So, they were away from the heel.
Which told Clarke absolutely nothing about where they were.
Northern Italy covered a lot of ground.
She knew that much, if nothing else.
If she remembered correctly, northern Italy had Rome, and that was the extent of her knowledge of northern Italy.
Clarke's eyes traveled from one building to the next, having no clue where they were, when Monroe suddenly spoke up.
She said, "Oh, wait, I think I know where we are."
Clarke looked at Monroe, startled. "Wait, you do?" She asked.
Monroe nodded, pointing to something and Clarke followed Monroe's gaze and pointed finger.
Monroe was pointing at a large, stone structure, with many archways for windows and doors and many spires on top of the roof of the building. The building had severe damage from the bombs, clearly. It looked almost white, and had several shattered windows, and one of the spires had snapped off. There clearly was meant to be another part of the building sticking out of the back, and it was almost entirely destroyed. Mostly rubble remained.
Clarke had to assume that it used to be some sort of church or cathedral or something.
"You know that building?" Clarke asked, glancing at Monroe.
Monroe nodded, dropping her arm. "Yeah," she said, "When I was living in the different alleyways of the Ark, I'd sometimes look at pictures in books or magazines, to look at stuff that was from Earth, before our ancestors had to leave. And there was this one magazine I looked at that had some pictures of buildings in Italy. And I saw that one. It's called the Duomo di Milano. We're in Milan."
Clarke gaped at Monroe. Holy shit.
"Damn," Clarke said, "You sure about that one?"
Monroe nodded. "I damn well am," she said, "Of a lot of the places that I wished I could go to, when I hoped to be anywhere else but being in the Ark? I'd imagine being in a lot of places in northern Italy. One of them was Milan. So, yeah, I recognize that building. Trust me, we're in Milan."
Clarke nodded, trying to ignore how her heart clenched, hearing what Monroe had gone through on the Ark.
Joey and Leah moved closer to Monroe, squeezing her hands, trying to comfort the braided girl and Monroe smiled at them.
Life hadn't been easy for Monroe.
If Clarke had a series of reasons to hate all of humanity, Monroe probably had about a billion.
It was one of the reasons why Clarke didn't get how Monroe could be still so willing to give other people a chance.
Including Clarke herself.
How did Monroe not throw her hands up and say, "you know what? Fuck it."
How didn't she do that?
It was one of the reasons why Clarke had tried so hard to push Monroe away. Because shouldn't Monroe be aware by now, just what human beings were like?
Still, Clarke sucked in a breath, ignoring how her heart ached for Monroe, and she said, nodding to the church, "Okay, so, we're in Milan. That's useful to know," and Clarke meant it when she said that, "When you read that stuff about Milan, was there any note of the people there worshipping anything that wasn't of any Abrahamic religion?"
Monroe shook her head. "Not a one," she said, "I don't think I have to tell you, that investigating the religion of Milan, was the last thing on my mind, when I looked at these pictures. I just assumed that almost everyone on Earth before the bombs and radiation, practiced Christianity."
Monroe then added, looking awkward, "Sorry, but I wasn't even aware that some communities were Muslim, Jewish, Buddhist, Hindu or anything else."
Clarke nodded, smiling wryly. She imagined that Monroe wouldn't be aware of that. People rarely even liked some of the educated kids in the Ark, knowing that.
A good majority of the Ark's culture, was influenced by the society that had existed in the United States, before the radiation and all the bombs.
As such? Almost the entirety of the Ark, tended to not like most children learning about any religion that wasn't Christianity.
Clarke's parents and to his credit, also Thelonius, had made sure to tell their children that they could practice a religion if they wanted to, but not to let fanatics in Christianity affect how they thought.
But the point was, if anyone followed any religion, a good majority of the Ark, made sure that religion would be Christianity.
So, Monroe could easily be excused for thinking that Christianity was the only religion that people on Earth had followed, before the bombs.
Monroe said, seeing Clarke's expression, "I know now that there were all types of religion that people practiced on Earth, before the bombs. And that's still the case with the tribes. And that there were multiple religions practiced in the Ark." She shook her head, "For the record? I don't think I'd ever want to practice Christianity. If there's any religion that I might embrace. That's literally the last one I'd ever embrace. It's just so hypocritical."
Clarke chuckled and nodded, having to confess that Monroe was right. Christianity was filled with hypocrisy. One could argue that all religions were, but Clarke didn't buy that for a second. And even if all religions had hypocrisy too? Christianity was responsible for so much horror, so much pain.
The crusades. The witch hunts. The genocides and colonization of so many countries and continents and the enslavement and mass rape of so many tribes throughout the world.
So Clarke saw Monroe's point.
Monroe continued, "But yes, to the point? I recognize that building. Even if I wouldn't go anywhere close to it."
Clarke nodded. She understood that.
You could know about something, and still want nothing to do with it.
"Okay," Clarke said, "So, we're in Milan. And we have no idea what the religion is that that guy with the helmet and machete follows. That's alright. Let's just keep moving."
They started walking again and every so often, Niylah, Sekena or Anya would give input about what they knew about whatever religion it was that that guy with the machete followed.
That the god the man worshipped, was a god of child sacrifice. Lovely.
When the group passed by one small building, Clarke said, "Wait, stop for a second."
The group halted and Clarke looked at what was set on the stairway of the building. It was a small, wooden figurine.
Not of anything winged or batlike, with the statues of the gargoyles back in the land of the Luwoda. But with no wings or any tail, as far as Clarke could see, a bull's head. A bull's head and straight, pointy horns.
Clarke got close to the stairs and peered at the small statuette.
It was a bull-headed statuette, like she'd thought, its arms were raised upwards at its sides in claws.
Clarke gestured to this statuette. "Any idea what this means?" She looked at Niylah, Anya, Sekena and the others.
"Not sure," Sekena confessed, "But from what I've heard, it resembles the god that the people here worship."
Clarke nodded. A god with a bull's head.
She knew there was one god in Egyptian myth that had a bull's head. A goddess. But from what Clarke remembered of the goddess, that was no deity of child sacrifice.
She knew that in some Chinese illustrations of gods and demons, there were bull-headed demons.
While that might sound insane to possibly believe in, Clarke had learned over time, that since she and the others, lived in a world where gargoyles, magic, gods and time travel existed, she might as well embrace the insanity, you know?
Monroe asked, as Leah and Joey both squeezed her hands, "Any idea where exactly the origin of this god comes from?"
"I don't know," Sekena confessed, "But I heard the name of this god mentioned one time. Back in the Trikru's land. One of the Trikru sent out to find resources in other lands, came back and spoke of a god that the people here worshipped. The child sacrificing god. The name mentioned was something like 'Molek' or 'Molet.'"
Clarke stiffened up, her mind suddenly jumping to a piece of knowledge she knew about some god from a Mesopotamian religion.
Clarke slowly turned to look at Sekena, staring at the woman. "You mean 'Moloch?'" Clarke asked, her voice quiet.
Sekena nodded. "That's the name," she said, she then narrowed her eyes as she asked, "You know that name?"
Clarke felt a sticky feeling of unease as she nodded. "Unfortunately," she said, then looking back to the wooden statuette, "Uh…I think this situation just got a lot worse."
"What do you mean?" Wells asked.
Clarke sighed, "Wells," she said, "Think. A bull-headed god. Named Moloch. A god of child sacrifice. And it's from Mesopotamian myth?"
Clarke turned to Wells and she watched his expression, watching as his eyes widened and he paled somewhat.
"Oh, hell," he mumbled, "You mean that 'devil guy?'"
"'Devil guy?'" Monroe echoed, appearing confused.
Clarke sucked in a breath and faced Monroe and the others, deciding that if they were really dealing with this 'Moloch' god, everyone might as well know the origins and why Wells referred to the god as the 'devil guy.'
"Okay," she said, "Lesson in theology. The countries you now know as 'Kuwait,' 'Turkey,' 'Syria' and 'Iraq,' used to be all of Mesopotamia. Mesopotamia doesn't exist in the way it did two thousand, five hundred and sixty-one years ago. It covered a lot of territory. And there was one religion where I think Moloch comes from. From Canaanite religion. Canaan was located in a different location from Mesopotamia, but from what I looked up? Apparently, he counted as a god believed in, in that area."
Clarke took a breath as she continued, "Now…Christianity has always copied things from other religions. Christians always go, 'the devil did it,' because they don't want to take responsibility for their own actions. Or acknowledge that some people are just evil. But the thing is, there is now devil in Christianity. Not really. I've never read the bible," she added, looking at Niylah and the others, "The bible was a book that the Christians used, but I don't believe they ever read it. My advice? If you ever find a bible? Don't read it and throw it in the trash. That's where it belongs. Anyway, Christians copied a lot from other religions because they weren't inventive enough. Christians just made the devil up to find something to blame, other than themselves."
Clarke continued, "They copied the whole 'creator god' from multiple religions. But my dad came up with a theory about the source where they copied the idea of the 'devil' from."
At Monroe, Pascal, Trina, Jasper, Monty, Harper and Fox's curious looks, Clarke answered, "Other gods from other religions. Christians always love demonizing other gods. The devil is portrayed as having ram's horns. Wanna know where they got that? From the Greek god, Pan. But Pan, if anyone bothers reading anything about Pan, they'd know that Pan was no devil. But that's never mattered to Christians. To Christians, there is no god that they won't cut down to make their own look good. But for the malevolent aspect of the devil? I think the Christians got it from Moloch."
Monroe's eyes widened and looked at the small statuette.
"That's basically the devil?" She asked.
"Very roughly," Clarke said, "I'm positive that the Christians copied from the religion that worshipped Moloch. Moloch's in some Hebrew writings as well. And the Christians took the worst aspects of Moloch and made their devil that way. They just added Pan's ram horns."
"Okay," Monroe said, nodding, "We're dealing with the god where Christians got the idea for the devil. Not great."
"Nope," Clarke agreed, "Not great at all. And it fits. Moloch is the god of child sacrifice. And fire."
Monroe tried not to curse. Well, this kept on getting better and better, didn't it?
"I'm not sure I entirely understand what was just said," Niylah said, "But if I understand some of it correctly? You understand, Klark, that the god in question, is extremely dangerous?"
Clarke chuckled, "Don't worry, I think I got the idea of that."
On a ship, miles and miles away, halfway across the ocean, was the ship, steered by a good portion of warriors from the Luwoda.
Two of the queens from the Luwoda, Demona and Elisa, were aboard the ship. Their wife, Fox, was back in the land of the Shallow Valley, looking over things.
Demona and Elisa were going to go rescue Clarke and the others. For Clarke. The girl that Demona apparently, had imprinted on.
Elisa looked at her wife, Demona, who was at the left side of the ship, peering over the frothing waves.
Elisa sighed and walked over to her, embracing the gargoyle from behind.
It was daylight out right now. So, Demona was in her human form.
Elisa asked gently, snuggling into Demona's back, whispering in her wife's ear, "You alright?"
Demona chuckled, "I will be. When we find them."
"Don't you mean 'her?'" Elisa asked knowingly, "When we find the girl you more or less want to adopt."
Demona scoffed, "Well, I didn't make it too much of a secret." She then glanced back at Elisa. She asked, "Does it surprise you, my love? That I decided I wanted to take in a human?"
"Maybe a bit," Elisa confessed, "But I think it's a good thing."
Demona smirked. Elisa would, wouldn't she?
Down below, were the gargoyles that were brought with the human warriors of the Luwoda. The gargoyles onboard below, were all currently stone, since it was daylight out.
Among those gargoyles, was the dog gargoyle, Rory. Demona had figured since the gargoyle had gotten attached to Clarke, he would be useful in protecting her.
Demona and Elisa had realized that by now? Clarke and her group most likely, had gotten through the portal that led from Ireland to Italy. What the tribes referred to as "Ytaaliy."
Which meant they had better set their course for Italy. Which they did.
They knew that the portal was located somewhere in northern Italy. Which didn't tell them much.
In northern Italy, there were four portals that Clarke and her group could have come out of by now.
One was in Bologna, one was in Turin, one was in Pesaro and one was in Milan.
The only question was, which portal Clarke and her group came out of.
"Well," Elisa said, "It will hopefully be night by the time we reach northern Italy. Then we can send some of the gargoyles out to glide around Italy and investigate the four different cities."
Demona nodded.
She hoped they'd find Clarke soon.
Back in Milan, Clarke and the others moved through the city, very worried about what they had figured out soon.
And it was only added to, when Wells asked Clarke, "What do you think happened to all the Ark people?"
Clarke kept moving, trying to ignore the unease in her at that question.
It was a good question.
And it deeply worried her. Where were Callie and the rest of the Ark people?
They'd been taken, right?
So, who had them?
This Moloch and his followers clearly had something to do with it.
But nevertheless, it didn't answer where the hell the Ark people were.
The group went past a more modern building, which had several shattered windows, and a part of the building that was curved upwards, was smashed off, and the edge that was smashed off, was on the streets, almost blocking Clarke and the others' way.
They went around the metal and glass rubble and kept moving down the street.
When they were about to make a turn, checking to see if the coast was clear, a scream was suddenly let loose behind them.
The group gasped and spun around. Monroe grabbed her gun, pushing the kids and Clarke behind her, and Niylah, Anya, Sekena and some other Grounder warriors, pulled out their sharp weapons.
The source of the scream, as it turned out, came from a figure that was standing there, several yards away, a figure with big arms, that had claws, and big, long horns on its head.
"Shit," Clarke said, as she and the others backed away. Soon, more figures appeared out from behind the buildings. More figures with horns and claws.
These weren't gargoyles. For multiple reasons. It was daylight. Aside from Demona, no gargoyle seemed to be flesh during the day. And there were no wings on these creatures. And no tails.
Just horns and claws.
"Clarke, Joey, Leah, get back," Monroe instructed, pulling her gun out and so did the others that had access to firearms, and they began shooting at the clawed figures with horns backing away.
The figures lunged, but the bullets hit them.
The first charging figure got hit by one of Monroe's bullets and went down, and as soon as he did, the group saw something startling, but revealing.
The first charging clawed figure with horns that got hit by Monroe's bullets, went down, and as he did, the horns came off of his head, revealing it to be a headdress of some sort.
As more of the figures collapsed and the horns came off, it hit them that they were dealing with a bunch of humans, dressed to look like the god that they worshipped. Dressed to look like Moloch.
They felt relieved for just a moment, when, and this was something they probably should have seen coming, but the figures that had dropped from the onslaught of bullets, got up from the ground, bloody, but apparently, very able to keep moving.
"Oh, shit," Clarke grumbled, eyes going wide, feeling ice hit her heart.
"Yeah, I think we need to run again," Wells said.
"Don't need to tell us twice," Monroe said as she and Niylah pushed Clarke, Joey and Leah away from the area and everyone else ran.
In an unknown location, Callie Cartwig got up, groaning, rubbing the back of her head.
Her eyes took in the large, dark room she was in. It was dim and dusty. The walls were rock, and there was a cell door down, in front of her, keeping her from escaping.
Callie cursed quietly, then mumbling, "What the hell happened?"
"You don't remember?" A familiar voice said from the right-hand wall, alerting Callie, and making her go to that wall, listening.
She recognized that infuriating voice.
Raven.
"Reyes?" Callie asked, "That you?"
"Yeah, it's me," Raven grumbled, "You don't remember? A bunch of freaks in masks with fake horns attacked us."
Callie's anger paused and her mind went to what happened right before she blacked out.
A group of people dressed in bull masks-they had added horns to their bull masks, and they had fake claws and had attacked.
They had thrown men, women and children alike in chains and dragged them off.
"Yeah," Callie sighed, turning and leaning her back against the wall, "I remember. Do we have any idea why these people did this?"
"Got no idea," Raven said, "But if you ask me? We should be blaming your princess for this one. She told us to come here, right?"
Callie snapped before she could help it. She spat, rage hitting her, "If we ever find a way of getting out of here? You had better keep your mouth shut. Or I'll leave you to rot."
Callie practically heard Raven's shock as the mechanic said, surprised, "Okay, okay. Wow." Clearly, Raven hadn't ever heard or seen Callie that angry before. So, she wasn't sure what to do with that.
"Just shut up," Callie said coldly. What she wasn't going to say? Was that Raven was dead anyway.
Raven would be dead, as soon as Raven outlived her usefulness. Then Callie would turn a blind eye while Clarke murdered the mechanic.
If that was what got Clarke to give Callie a chance to be a mother to the blonde? Then Callie would do it.
Besides, from what Clarke had told Callie about Raven? It sounded like Raven had it coming for a long, long time.
There was a clanking of what sounded like keys and Callie turned her head, to see a large, hefty door creak open and two figures came in, the both of them wearing those headdresses designed to look like bulls with large horns.
One of the masked men said, staring from behind his mask at Callie, "You are the 'chancellor' of the 'Ark?'" The deep, thick, male voice asked from behind the mask, "The leader of these people?"
Callie nodded, eyeing the masked figures cautiously. "I am," she said, unable to help but find it odd that this person was speaking perfect English, when she'd been sure they wouldn't.
The figure who had spoken, nodded, large bull mask looking almost comical as he did.
The figure spoke again, "We need you to come with us."
Back in Milan, Italy, Clarke Griffin, Zoe Monroe, Joey and Leah, Niylah kom Trikru, Wells Jaha, Pascal Williams, Finn Collins, Harper, Fox, Jasper, Monty, Anya kom Trikru, Sekena kom Trikru, the rest of their warriors and the emaciated Abby Griffin, who Sekena was still planning on killing, got to a part of the city that was far from where they'd almost been ambushed.
They were out of breath, tired and shaken.
They eventually found a place to sit for a few minutes, but they tried to stay on alert.
Panting, Clarke sat on a bench, sagging slightly, as she felt all five Monroe, Niylah, Sekena, Wells and Anya observing her, making sure she was alright.
She shifted, trying not to feel uncomfortable at their attention.
Joey and Leah sat on another bench, both panting.
Pascal and Trina were looking over each other, trying to make sure the other was alright.
Sekena glanced at Abi, who looked like she might just pass out at any moment and the Trikru woman made her choice.
She knew that she might not have this chance again. Abi might get killed by some of those warriors that were immune to bullets, apparently.
And Sekena could not allow that. Sekena was the one meant to kill Abi. For Klark's affections.
So, Sekena moved quickly. She reached to her belt and grabbed the hilt of her knife and pulled it out, the sound a chilling metallic slither, sliding out of its sheathe.
The sound alerted Clarke, and she stiffened, looking up, watching Sekena as if she suddenly expected the woman to turn that knife on her.
Sekena almost laughed. Her? Killing Klark? Ridiculous.
Sekena would never kill Klark, not unless it was to save Klark from a far more painful and far slower and humiliating death. And Sekena? She didn't want to think about that possibility.
All the more reason to kill Abi. The woman would just slow them down, make it more possible to be caught.
And Sekena would do anything to protect Klark from torture and death, especially if Onya was to be believed about what happened between Sekena and Klark in the last time.
Sekena chuckled at Clarke's worried look, honestly finding such a ridiculous prospect as Sekena killing or hurting Clarke, amusing, and she moved fast, to the other Trikru warriors and ordered them to give her Abi.
The startled warriors stiffened, before nervously handing Abi to Sekena.
Sekena glanced at Klark, making sure the girl's eyes were on Sekena the whole time.
Sekena grabbed Abi by the throat and dragged the bound woman over to her, placing the tip of her knife against Abi's neck, her left hand holding the right side of Abi's neck as she pressed the tip of the knife against Abi's soft throat.
Abi's eyes grew wide when she felt the sharp metal against her.
"Understand this now, Abi kom Skaikru," Sekena said, her voice deadly, as she felt all eyes on her, "You are a vile thing that doesn't deserve the love your daughter gave you for years. You took something that should be as cherished as Klark's love and you threw it away. You murdered her father by telling your leader about what her father found. You neglected Klark. And I will not allow you to harm her again. Die now, Abi kom Skaikru."
"Kids, look away," Monroe ordered Joey and Leah, both children doing as their hero said, and looked away, closing their eyes too.
With her words finished, Sekena wasted no more time, and thrust her knife hard, all the way in, inside Abi's throat, the blonde woman's dark eyes growing huge and her face stretching in pain as she paled and blood gushed out from the wound in her neck.
Sekena smirked at the dark blood flowing over her hands, feeling its warmth.
She felt Abi struggle, for only a few moments, before her body became limp slowly.
Sekena slowly turned to look at Klark, as she felt Abi go limp, wishing to see the girl's reaction.
Sekena's smirk left her lips when she saw the shock on Klark's face.
Klark didn't look happy.
She looked stunned and confused.
"Why did you-?" Klark asked, her eyebrows furrowing.
Sekena paused, troubled. Had Klark not wanted this?
Hadn't this been what Sekena and Klark had agreed upon?
Sekena dropped the now dying Abi to the ground, the other woman in a pool of her own blood, slowly growing cold.
"Didn't you want this?" Sekena asked, lowering her blood slicked knife, "I said I'd do it for you."
Clarke swallowed, looking like she didn't quite know what to say.
"Yeah," she said quietly, "You said you'd do it. On the condition that I would be your daughter. That I'd give you a chance to be my mother."
All around, there were shocked whispers.
"Wait, wha-?" Jasper asked, looking between Sekena and Clarke, confused, also looking like he'd pissed himself, seeing Sekena just kill someone like that.
Wells, who had watched Sekena kill Abby easily, had sat back and been shocked. He hadn't felt bad for Abby, since it was Abby. But he hadn't expected this. That Clarke had made a deal with this Grounder, Sekena, in exchange for Abby's life being taken.
And Sekena wanted Clarke to be her daughter?
But what about Callie?
Seeing Klark's eyes staring at the knife she'd lowered, Sekena looked down at her knife and chuckled, shaking her head, "You think I'd hurt you, Klark?" She lowered her knife and smeared the blood on the blade all along the wood of an empty chair, "You have no need to fear that, Klark." She then sheathed her knife.
She then looked back at Klark, "And no, Kark, the deal wasn't that you would be my daughter. Just that you would give me the chance to prove I could be a good mother to you."
"Holy shit," Pascal said, almost laughing in disbelief at the grim scene he'd just witnessed, and at the reasons for it he had just heard.
Clarke tried not to curse.
Sekena had delivered the goods. So, now it was Clarke's turn. And worse yet, Callie wasn't here, so Clarke couldn't turn them against each other and watch the mayhem unfold and eventually hear them give up on her.
So, yeah, here was the other shoe. Dropping right down on top of her.
Clarke, almost by instinct, glanced at Monroe, who was smirking at her and Clarke half wanted to smack Monroe for that look.
The look Monroe gave her, practically said, "so, where's your plan to push Sekena and Callie away now?"
Leah asked meekly, "Can we look?"
"No," Monroe ordered, her smile though, not leaving her face, before she glanced at the dead Abby and said, "I think we should move," she nodded to the two children who still were looking away, "Unless we want these two to see the body."
"Right," Clarke said, feeling weak, as she got up and Monroe herded the two children off of the bench and the group moved.
Clarke kept walking, trying to ignore the feeling of Sekena's eyes on her.
Author's note
So, lots to unpack, as always.
Firstly: Abby Griffin is dead! Yay!
Secondly: For anyone wondering, I have no actual proof that Moloch is where Christianity got the idea of the devil, but that's the theory I have. It sort of fits. I think there's even another deity in Canaanite myth, whose name translates to "morning star." And let's face it, Christians really aren't that good at coming up with their own shit.