Chapter Text
Air. There’s no air.
Your eyes shoot open, and you are surrounded by water. It is deep and dark, and you are so tired. You look up, and you can see light pouring in from above. You don’t think. Instead, you propel yourself upward, lungs screaming in agony until you break the surface.
You take in deep lungfuls of air. Well, not quite. The coughing and sputtering up water begins to prevent that. Your legs and arms ache as you try to keep yourself afloat, and you search frantically for a shore.
You find one not twenty feet from your right. When your eyes land on the shore, your heart almost stops. You stare in awe as you paddle closer, mouth slightly ajar at that beautiful sight before you. You crawl onto beautiful white sand, so powdery that it’s like crawling through snow, and you don’t bother to brush it off as you shakily stand. You’re still coughing, and you still feel like there’s pins and needles in your lungs, but your amazement far surpasses those feelings. As the coughing settles and your legs begin to steady just a little bit more, you’re nearly knocked over again as waves of memories come rushing in.
Your head is spinning, so you allow yourself to fall backward onto the sand. You lean forward onto your knees and stare at the whiteness as the memories play like a movie in your mind. You just barely register the clothing you wear: a plain grey t-shirt and denim shorts that come down just to your knees. You can feel the bindings on your chest and the boyshort-like undergarments, and you feel a slight sense of relief at the familiarity.
When your head clears and you find yourself left with thousands of memories from not even fifty years of life, you allow yourself to once again take in the beautiful island before you.
The trees are incredible. The bark is strong, and the leaves are greener and brighter than you ever thought possible. There are flowers all of colors, shapes and sizes, along with various shrubs and grasses. It is so alive and glowing in a way you have not seen in all of your years.
To your left, you notice a small wooden canoe. Though it rests on land, its sides are still darkened with dampness.
You freeze. If it has been used recently, that must mean that there is someone else here.
You stand back up again, and this time, your footing is much stronger. Though you cringe at the feeling of sand squishing through your toes, you muscle through it and trudge onward toward the mini forest. You catch sight of what appears to be a clearing and decide to pass through it.
It does not take you long to realize that this forest is a ring around a sandy center. This land, you realize, is actually an island. Your heart races as you approach the other end of the forest. With a quick pause and a deep breath, you step out into the clearing.
In the center of it is a huge tree, easily hundreds of years old. It towers above the forest, and you wonder how you didn’t see it before. In the tree is a shelter build from wood and bound by makeshift nails and clay. It is huge, easily the size of your tent as Commander, and a rope ladder with wooden rungs hangs from it.
Around the tree are various sites, such as a firepit and a place where meat is butchered and tended to. It appears almost as if there are stations surrounding this massive tree and it’s equally massive shelter that has been built into its branches. One look around tells you that, as you suspected, someone indeed has been here recently.
Seeing no other logical option, you climb the ladder slowly. At the top of the ladder, there is a small ledge to step onto before opening on the door. You climb onto it, limbs still shaky with weakness as your stomach growls. You pray that whoever is behind that door has food, and drinkable water, though you’re not sure that you’re all that thirsty anymore.
You reach for the door knob, its silvery smooth exterior looking foreign to the rough wood that the entrance is made of. It turns easily, and you push the door open.
Before you have time to even take in the room around you, somebody grabs you from behind and pulls your back to their chest. A sharpened piece of metal is suddenly at your throat, and you shudder slightly. You swallow hard and don’t allow your fear to show, however.
Your eyes fall downward to examine the person holding you hostage. It is clearly a woman. Her skin is tanned but not overly dark. Her fingers, long and slender, are dirty from what you assume to have been work or hunting. It is not until you notice the lines tattooed around the diameter of her leg that realization hits you like a freight train. Out of curiosity, you look down at your own arm and find a strikingly familiar tattoo. You don’t know how you couldn’t notice it before.
You hear footsteps approaching you, and despite the blade pressed to your neck, it is the sound that startles you most. You jump, and you swear you hear the girl holding you hostage giggling.
The first thing that comes out of the shadows is a long, slender leg, appearing to push out of a slit in a beautiful and elegant gown. The second is the end of a staff, made from wood but painted with something black. Your eyes follow the length of it, where the branches from which it was carved tangle up together to encase a dark red crystal. You’ve never seen anything like it, and you’re mesmerized.
You nearly jump out of your skin when you see a huge black panther, at least the size of a young child, follow the staff's path. It settles calmly on its hind legs, its front paw directly next to the end of the staff. When you decide that it will not attempt to kill you, you return your gaze to the beautiful red stone at the top of the staff.
When you follow the hand wrapped around it up slender arms, past solid shoulders and up to an incredibly familiar face, your mesmerization becomes much like a trance. You can’t move. You can barely breathe as you meet braided blonde locks and icy blue eyes that carry the depths of the sea.
It’s her.
For a moment, you can’t speak. She tilts her head slightly sideways, her wild blue eyes alight with wonder.
“Clarke,” you whisper. She smiles, wide but controlled. She keeps her emotions at bay.
With one swish of her hand, the girl holding you hostage lets go. She steps to your side, and you look over to meet her eyes. Your suspicions were correct, and you smile softly at her. Then, the two of you divert your attention to the woman before you. A war is raging inside you, a beautiful one, but you seem to be predisposed with the same ability to keep said emotions at bay, too.
“Here, I am Asuriel,” the blonde says. Her voice is soft, comforting, and calming. Her Australian accent is all but gone, and she sounds infinitely more like Clarke again. Your heart flutters in your chest.
“She is the leader of the Wodakru,” the brunette woman next to you announces. The language sounds like music to your ears. “I am Imin.”
“The language...it is still used?” you ask. Asuriel nods.
“I am respected as their Heda, but we are a peaceful people based on strength through love,” she says. She looks to Imin now, then rolls her eyes. You’re slightly taken aback for a moment at the sudden change of demeanor.
“Well, except for that one,” she says. Imin grins ear to ear like a proud child, and you can’t help but smile, too.
Asuriel leans the staff against the wall now and sighs. “Okay, I’m done with the act. Imin promised me the first cut of meat on the night when you arrived if I tried to act high and mighty.”
“It worked, though, did it not?” Imin says, grinning. Though the extremely formal, high and mighty act has been dropped, you admire the way their language is still somewhat elegant. Much more so than your previous life’s, at least.
“Are you truly Heda here?” you ask. Asuriel nods.
“I am the leader, and I am called Heda, but it’s not nearly as rigid as what you would remember it is. I’m more of a guide than a Commander,” she explains. You nod and smile, wondering how peaceful and wonderful it might be to live that way.
“Is there war?”
Asuriel shakes her head, her hand absently reaching over to pet the panther sitting next to her. You think to ask about it later. “Not so far.”
“Are the others here? And where is here, exactly?”
Imin walks over to the window, where the curtains are pulled over it. She pulls them away and lets light shine in. You resist the urge to gasp at how beautiful the blonde in front of you looks, shimmering in the light. She appears to be wearing some sort of glitter, and you smile.
“Most of them are here. Imin and I have been here since the beginning. Every so often, someone new will come by,” she explains. She lets a small smile creep onto her lips. “It is true, what Gustus said. We are drawn to each other.”
Your smile widens. “Where are they?”
“Most of them are in the other room. I told them to wait there until we knew who had arrived,” Asuriel says.
“Am I the last?”
“No,” she says. “We are still waiting for Ontari, Octavia, Travis, and Chris."
Your heart races at the sound of their names. You miss your stepfather and stepbrother terribly, but you realize that this means your mother and brother are already here. You can feel the years of distance piling onto you, now, and you are suddenly anxious to get into the other room.
“I presume they all have different names, now, too?”
Imin nods.
“You said most of them,” you press, walking closer to Asuriel and Imin. The space between you and Asuriel is becoming smaller and smaller, and your heart thuds in your chest.
“Gadriel and a few others, including your trainer and your teacher, have gone to the City of Angels for supplies,” she says. Somewhere, something in your heart tells you that Gadriel is Bellamy, and you wonder how you know that.
“City of Angels. Does that happen to be the remains of Los Angeles?”
“It does,” Imin grins. “You’re as wise in this life as you were in the first.”
You smile back at her, and a comfortable silence falls over the three of you. You can hear birds chirping through the cracked open window, and you have to resist the urge to close your eyes and just breathe in. Instead, you focus on the two people standing in front of you.
“What is your name?” Asuriel asks suddenly, breaking you from your trance.
You pause for a moment, trying to rack your brain for any memories of the life you are in right now. Images pop up of snow, and lots of it. You wonder how you wandered from somewhere covered in snow and ice to a place so beautiful as this, but you decide you will question it later. You search your brain incessantly until you find your name.
“Ai laik Siobahn kom Ashdaunkru,” you announce. It rolls off your tongue effortlessly, but you shudder at the similarity to the Ice Nation.
Imin’s smile, however, quells that fear. In this life, the Snow People and the Water People must get along much better than they did before.
“Imin, go tell the others who has come,” Asuriel requests. Imin nods, her smile unwavering as she turns and walks toward the same door that As first walked out of.
As. It sounds like “Ahz” in your head, and it sounds perfect. You wonder what gave you the instinct to give such a nickname.
"Come, Natblida," Imin says suddenly, and the panther that has been silently by As' side lets out a sound of acknowledgement at Imin's command. You smile wide as the name brings back memories of a tiny black kitten found in a ditch. To your surprise, the panther, Natblida, walks toward you and nuzzles your hand for a moment before following Imin into the other room.
When Imin and Natblida have gone, you barely have time to turn your head before arms are being thrown around you and a body is being pressed to yours.
You don’t hesitate in hugging her back, and you breathe in deeply. She still smells the same after all this time. Just before your eyes fall shut, you catch sight of the broken infinity sign tattooed onto the back of her neck. There is no scar.
“Welcome home, Lexa.”
“Oso don hit choda op nodataim.”