Lexa's mind slammed to a screeching halt as the vision before her settled into reality. Before Lexa sat something of a nightmare, whose flesh was as pale as the dead, whose eyes were as cold as the deepest colds and whose gaze pierced into her with such intensity that it sent a shiver into the very core of her body.

This woman, this person, this thing, that sat in front of her wasn't human, wasn't real, wasn't and couldn't be alive. Lexa blinked once, twice, three times as if to shake the vision from her gaze. But no matter how many times she tried clearing her vision and no matter how many times she looked away and then back, the thing remained seated in the throne of twisted wood and sharpened weapon.

The thing's gaze turned to Bellamy who was equally as fearfully stunned, and as their eyes turned to pierce into Bellamy, Lexa was sure she saw flashes of deep black webs that etched their way into the edges of its eyes, up the side of its neck and through its muscle, and as Lexa looked more and more closely she realised that what she saw were veins, and what must have been blood vessels in its eyes that made her stomach recoil and churn and twist.

"Take the man away," the thing said, its voice full of a rasp that echoed out around them.

The larger man, the one who Lexa thought was called Gustus stepped forward and picked Bellamy up by the shoulders as if he were a child before pushing him back with a large hand, the motion enough to stagger Bellamy and to send him stumbling backwards in a futile attempt to right himself.

The thing's eyes followed Bellamy and when Lexa felt his presence leave the tent its gaze snap back to her with that same piercing intensity. Lexa's mouth was dry, it felt raw, and as she swallowed in an attempt to clear her throat she found herself grimacing and trying not to cough lest she break whatever tentative reprieve from what she knew to be her soon to come demise.

"Are you thirsty?" it asked, and the question surprised her, it made her eyes widen and she couldn't understand, she couldn't make sense of the things she saw and heard. "Ontari," it said, her head inclined towards the scar faced woman.

And so Lexa's eyes snapped to the woman who had attacked her, who had snuck into her camp and kidnapped her and she recoiled as Ontari's lips parted into the most feral of smiles. But Ontari merely stepped forward, pulled out what Lexa assumed to be a flask hidden somewhere in her thick furs and forced it upon her.

One of Ontari's hands snatched out and ripped the gag from her mouth before it gripped her by the jaw and tipped her head back as she squeezed. Lexa grimaced, she tried to pull her head away only to find Ontari's iron grip tightening as she forced her mouth open. Ontari pushed the flask to her lips and tipped its contents into her mouth, the motion rough and uncaring.

Lexa spluttered, she gasped, gagged and tried not to retch too painfully as a bitter tasting liquid burnt against her tongue. Part of it made Lexa want to spit it out, to not swallow it, to let it spill down her chin, but somehow, someway, she found that the liquid seemed to dull and ease the thumping in her heart, it seemed to quench the burning in her throat and she tried to lean into its soothing presence, if only because she knew her life depended on whatever she was to say next.

Ontari stepped back to leave Lexa gasping for breath and trying with little success to wipe her chin on her shoulder, the bitter tasting drink having dribbled down onto her jacket and shirt to leave a pathetic mess of sticky liquid drying against her skin.

But Lexa's gaze moved back to the thing that sat in the throne and she realised its gaze had never wavered, it had never broken eye contact and it had taken in every little thing that it must have been seeing.

It shifted in its throne then, uncrossed its legs and seemed to unfurl as it reclined and made itself more comfortable. One lazy arm threw the red sash outwards as if to give it more space to breathe, the other hand lovingly stroked at the wooden arm of the throne it sat upon.

A single golden braid fell out of place as it tilted its head to the side as if to inquisitively inspect a trapped rodent beneath its foot, and as Lexa squirmed under its gaze she wished so very deeply that she could look away, that she could hide behind something more opaque than the air that separated them.

"Leave us, Ontari, Costia," it said and Lexa peered at the two women who had captured her to see them bow their heads with clear deference before turning and silently leaving the tent.

The only other presence in the tent was felt rather than seen, and Lexa was sure it was the beast of a man called Gustus who she assumed stood somewhere behind her ready to strike should she try to attack. But Lexa had no intentions of doing that, if only because she could see more weapons upon the things body than she could count.

It stood then, and the motion was agonisingly slow. Each subtle movement it made was liquid, sensual and so very purposefully poised that Lexa wondered if it had rehearsed such movements. It came to stand, the flicking flames from a nearby candle casting its face in half shadow and sending its hair awash with molten light. But it began to approach, it began to close on her, it began to stalk forward with poised step after poised step until it came to tower over where Lexa found herself kneeling, her head tilted up to look at a face that was unreal, unnerving and unexplainable.

But then it knelt slowly and the only sound that came was the slightest creaking of leather or swish of fabric that gave way to its body. And then the thing came face to face with Lexa in the centre of the large tent.

They were close, so close that she could feel its breath as it brushed against her cheek, and even though Lexa wanted to look away, even though she wanted to close her eyes and fight back the fear that continued to creep into her mind, she couldn't.

Lexa was captivated by the sight before her. She was captivated by the woman, who knelt in front of her and studied her with open curiosity. Being this close to its face was unnerving. She could see the veins just barely under the skin. She didn't know if they were more obvious because her flesh was grey. She didn't know if they were obvious because her blood seemed to be black, and she didn't know if the veins were obvious because she simply looked for them. At first Lexa had even wondered for just a second whether what she saw was makeup or even paint of some kind. But now, as she was able to see the flesh in all its pale greyness, and now, as she was able to see the black blood vessels and the grey of her lips and gums, Lexa knew it was so very real.

Whatever made this thing's appearance so death-like, it made Lexa shiver, it made her flinch and shy away. A finger reached out then, and it was slender, it was delicate as it came to rest against her lips. But despite its appearance Lexa was under no mistake that the hand it was attached to would be more than capable of breaking her in two.

Lexa shivered at the prolonged touch and she tried not to do something too sudden, too obvious as to shy away, but still she tried to make space, she tried to make room and to put distance between her face and the finger that remained on her lips.

And she did so for the thing that looked at her was something so deathly, so pale, so empty of all the signs of life that she couldn't help but to feel sick, to feel ill-put and unsettled.

And then?

All the things she knew, all the things she saw, everything Carl had told her came crashing to the forefront of her mind.

And.

It.

Made.

Sense.

Whatever this thing was, whatever it had become, was something so close to death, so close to not living that it could only be described as one thing.

And that was a reaper.

A reaper of life, a reaper of death, and a reaper of the living and a reaper of those foul beasts that roamed the Earth's surface.

And Lexa understood the name now, she understood its connection to death, to life, to turning what was once human into foul beast and she knew what fate would await her, and she knew why Carl and his people called these things reapers. She knew why those other savages, Ontari, Costia, Gustus, listened to it, did its bidding and dared not to question. For who would question death itself? Who would dare to challen—

"Do I make you afraid?" the question cut through her thoughts and it surprised Lexa more than the barest hints of emotion she didn't expect to see in the vibrantly blue eyes that looked at her. But Lexa didn't need to answer to know the thing before her already knew her answer.

Lexa swallowed, and this time she was thankful for whatever drink Ontari had forced upon her, if only because it seemed to help her clear her throat without her succumbing to a coughing fit. She wet her lips and grimaced at the pain she felt as they cracked and seemed to taunt her very existence.

But then Lexa steeled her nerves, made sure her voice was as unwavering as it could be.

"I know what you are," she said and it surprised her just how strong her voice remained.

Surprise flashed across the thing's face, but perhaps Lexa should think of it as person, as woman if only because she was very much so a woman, no matter how dead she looked and despite the very obvious fact that she wasn't completely certain that it was actually human. However far fetched that may be.

"You know what I am?" the woman asked, and this time real curiosity coloured her tone as her eyes glanced over her shoulder and to where Gustus must have remained standing. "Tell me," she said slowly. "What am I?"

"You're a reaper," Lexa whispered and she braced herself for whatever was to come next.

But of all the things Lexa expected, it wasn't what she saw.

Disgust came first, it coloured the woman's lips and twisted them into a snarl. Revulsion and a hatred followed, and those emotions contorted her cold features into something grotesque and full of fury. But as quickly as those emotions seared across her face they faded into insult before melting into something close to sadness. But before Lexa could really analyse whatever had just happened the woman snapped to her feet with a suddenness that made her startle and fall back in surprise.

"Bring her," the woman snapped.

And with that Lexa felt herself lifted to her feet before being shoved around and led out of the tent with her thoughts scrambled and her mind so very confused.