Chapter 17

(Ryan)

Strange visions flashed behind his eyes—his apartment, his father... Hope. Feelings and images came and went, tormenting him before being torn away like film left on the cutting room floor.

Ryan grimaced, not daring to open his eyes for fear of the world being ripped away again. His head was spinning and pounding—it was worse than the very worst of his hangovers.

And he'd had plenty of those.

"Clarke!" a voice shouted from nearby.

Too loud…

He cracked open an eye to see Hope leaning over him, eyes shining and cheeks flushed with color.

"Hope?" he croaked out, pulling himself up into a sitting position. His whole body ached, but his chest hurt the worst. It felt like someone had just beaten him within every inch of his life.

A feeling he knew all too well…

"You remember!" she shouted, smiling widely.

"What do you—?"

Without warning, she threw her arms around him, practically tackling him to the ground. It was different than the last time he had held her. She had been tentative and reserved then, but now… She was… happy?

He could tell that she was pouring all of her strength into the hug, burying her face into his chest. It was the strangest sensation. He found himself terrified to move.

"When we were in that void…I was so scared," she whispered, face still pressed into his chest. "And Mailovre, he was so cruel to you. I didn't know when I brought you with me. I'm… I'm sorry, Clarke."

He froze, realizing that what he had been experiencing was much more than a bad dream. His first instinct was to pull back, but he could feel her emotions—relief and empathy swirling around her in equal measure.

He slowly put his arms around her, resting his chin on the top of her head.

"Thank you, Hope," he said quietly.

She released her hold and sat back on her heels.

"For what?" she asked, brows drawing together in confusion.

"It's fuzzy on exactly how, but I think you saved me," he said.

She laughed somewhat nervously. "I guess that's just what we do now," she said.

"It's more than that," he said, not knowing how to articulate exactly what he was feeling, but it felt deeper.

He wasn't surprised when she nodded in understanding, feelings were quickly becoming something that they didn't need to speak to understand.

She moved to sit next to him. They stayed like that for a few minutes, not saying anything.

"My dad had an abusive father," she said softly. "His name was Mikael. My dad was the product of an affair and Mikael hated him for it," she explained thoughtfully, playing with the pendant around her neck.

"But it was more than that—he hated my father for what he was, a hybrid. So he tormented him, mercilessly. No matter what my dad did, he could never live up to his father's expectations and it twisted him."

Ryan sat quietly as he listened. He knew the Mikaelsons were one of the most powerful supernatural families on the planet, but he had never heard their story so intimately before.

"I loved my dad," Hope said quickly, "But he did terrible things in the name of family, and I think a lot of that came from the way his father treated him."

Her eyes were glistening again, but she continued her story.

He admired her strength.

"I'm sorry to say that you probably know exactly how he felt," she said softly. "But he didn't let it destroy him, not completely. He forged his own way—maybe not always in the way that he should have…" she laughed.

"I'm sure you've heard the stories," she said with a crooked smile. "But, I guess what I'm trying to say is that there is always hope."

"Yes," he said. "I do believe in Hope…" he finished with a smirk.

She threw her head back and laughed at that, the joyous sound echoed around the outcropping, causing his heart beat strangely. He couldn't remember the last time he let someone get this close.

God, he was in trouble.

"Hey," she said, "It stopped raining."

Indeed, it had stopped raining sometime during their conversation. The darkness outside seemed to have lightened as well, indicating that it was what passed for morning in this hellscape.

"Do you think we should keep moving?" he asked.

"Maybe we should rest for a little while," she said. "It's been a long night…"

"You can say that again," he agreed, leaning back against the wall behind him. He looked up at the dark, rocky ceiling above him and shivered.

"What's wrong?" she asked, immediately aware of his discomfort.

"Enclosed spaces...unsettle me," he admitted.

"Oh my God," she said with a laugh. "You're just like Landon."

He bristled at her words—he couldn't help it.

Why does it always have to come back to his little brother?

He could tell that Hope felt his frustration; she moved back slightly, pursing her lips together.

"He is your brother…" she said hesitantly. "I know there's bad blood there, but I think if you got to know him, you may get along."

"I doubt it," he said resolutely.

"Don't be so sure," she said. "I never thought I'd like you, but here we are… "

"You like me?" he asked quietly. "Or am I just a substitute for Landon now that he'll never remember who you are?"

Hope winced at his words, pulling her arms around her chest.

"Why would you say that?" she asked, clearly hurt.

"It's the truth," he said. "No one is going to remember you."

She just stared at him with those big doe eyes.

"This isn't about that," she said. "It's about Landon. You hate him even though you don't know him. You should give him a chance, he's kind and brave and—"

"And everything I'm not," he said bitterly.

"What is wrong with you?" she hissed.

"Care to take a guess?" he asked, leaning in closer.

She scooted back, only stopping when she was backed against the rocky wall behind her. He moved with her, leaning down over her.

"I will never be Landon," he said looking into her eyes, only a few inches from his own. She shivered as he looked down to her lips.

"Do you want to know what's wrong with me?" he whispered in her ear. "Everything."

He turned his head, just barely brushing his lips against hers before he felt her hands on his chest, shoving him with unbridled force.

"STOP!" she shouted. "How dare you?" she asked, fire burning in her eyes.

"Every time I start to believe in you, you show your true colors. You're cruel. Cruel just like your father!" she shouted.

Her emotions were like liquid fire, burning so hot that they seemed to scald him from the inside.

"Hope!" he called as he watched her scramble to the entrance of the outcropping and disappear from view.

Shit.

He jumped to his feet, bumping his head on the low, rock ceiling.

"Son of a bitch!" he swore, rubbing the rapidly growing bump on his head.

"Hope!" he shouted again, following her outside.

He looked around, but there was no sign of her—it was impossible. There was nowhere to go, just rocks and empty space. It was almost like she had vanished into thin air.

"You can't leave me!" he shouted, hearing his voice crack on the words. "You can't!" he yelled again.

But there was no answer, no trace of her.

(Hope)

She looked down at Clarke standing at the entrance of their makeshift hideout.

"You can't leave me!" he shouted. She held her breath, concentrating on the spell that made her invisible.

"You can't!" he shouted again.

Why? Why did he have to be this way?

His words still stung. It wasn't like he hadn't said something similar before, but it hurt so much more this time.

And the way he got so close to her…She moved her fingers to her lips, which he had just barely brushed with his own.

Was he really trying to kiss her?

She immediately tucked the thought away, burying it deep down. Whatever game he was playing, it was just that— a game. He was a manipulator and a liar, he had said so himself. She had no reason to believe anything he said or did.

But what about their connection?

Could he really manipulate her when she could feel him the way that she did?

His feelings always felt real, but she supposed it didn't mean anything. Whatever this bond was, it was magical in origin, and magic could be deceiving. Until she knew exactly how their connection worked, she had no reason to trust it.

She watched him begin to walk away from the outcropping, heading down the path that led in the direction of the largest rock formation—the place where Malivore was surely waiting.

She reluctantly began to follow him, taking care to keep her steps quiet as she walked along a slightly elevated but parallel path.

He walked in silence, occasionally glancing over his shoulder, presumably looking for her.

She honestly hadn't decided what to do—she knew he had no intention of assisting her defeat Malivore; however, the thought of facing more of Malivore's monsters on her own was concerning.

She had already expended so much energy just trying to survive that even the effort needed to keep herself cloaked was taxing.

Suddenly, something caught her attention. There was something lying on the path ahead of her—it seemed like some sort of paper, but she couldn't be sure.

She approached the object with caution, keeping an eye on Clarke walking ahead, oblivious to her presence.

When she got closer she saw that it was a tarot card—it looked like it belonged in the deck Gwyllion had used when she was masquerading as her Aunt.

It was the moon card.

She picked it up carefully, studying the familiar image of two dogs howling at the moon above.

The meaning came easily to her— Uncertainty. Intuition. Illusion.

She flipped the card over, finding a message scrawled on the back:

"Take heed," the words read in silvery ink.

The warning made her shiver in apprehension. Something big was coming… but what?

She glanced over, looking for Clarke, only to find that she had lost track of him.

How long was she staring at that damn card for?

Hope jogged ahead, looking for any sign of him on the path below, but he was just gone.

She considered reaching out for him through their connection, but she honestly wasn't sure if she should…if she reached out for him, would he feel it?

She had hoped that the cloaking spell would help hide their connection, but she hadn't considered the fact that she may actually need to use it.

She looked down to read the card's message again, but as soon as she did, it vanished in a puff of smoke.

"What the hell?" she asked, looking around for whoever may have been responsible. But there was no one in sight.

The realization caused her heart to sink like a stone.

Alone.

Suddenly, she heard a scream from somewhere up ahead. She broke into a run, letting the cloaking spell fall away. As soon as it did, she felt a burning sensation snake its way down her back.

The feeling pushed her to move faster, stumbling along the path in her haste.

"Clarke?" she called.

Had that scream been his?

She barely had time to stop before she reached the end of a large cliff. She tried to catch her breath as she looked over the intimidating precipice.

Suddenly, she heard the scream again, she looked around widely for its source, practically shaking in anticipation. Then, she heard a mighty roar coming from somewhere below.

She looked down, spotting an emerald green dragon in the canyon below, shooting upwards at a terrible speed.

She knew that dragon—it was Huan, she realized in horror.

But that wasn't all, the source of the scream was in fact Clarke.

He was dangling dangerously, being held in Huan's fearsome claws.

"CLARKE!" she screamed, but it made no difference—Huan was already just a speck of green against an impossibly dark sky.