~ Dread: Verb ~

Anticipate with great apprehension or fear.

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Clip Nine - Rayla's POV:

As soon as the gates had closed behind us a shiver kisses its way up my spine, a haunting feeling that seems to be warning me against the foreboding gigantic spire in front of me. 

Our car had driven past several other fancy and well-lit buildings, heading towards the silver spiral tower situated in the center of the city, drawing every eye to its gleaming, yet faintly sinister, magnificence. 

We stop abruptly at the foot of the tower, and more men with dark sunglasses and black suits opening the doors for me and my mother. I get out slowly, forcing myself to keep my eyes trained on the spiral tower and not on the man next to me, who is studying me intently. 

I can't see the man's eyes behind his intimidating glasses, but I get the strong impression that he's searching me for anything that goes against everything that CAP has worked so hard to build. Anything that would give him an excuse to reach for his gun and pull the trigger. 

My heartbeat goes wild, and I twist my facial features into an expression of young and fresh innocence. No hints of guilt or nervousness. Nothing that could give me away. Nothing that could get me and my mom killed in a heartbeat. 

After several bated exhalations, the man looks away and I allow myself to let out a quick breath that I hadn't realized I'd been holding. My pulse doesn't slow however, and I send out a silent prayer into the universe asking that it doesn't show. 

I join my mother in front of the car and five men surrounded us in a circle. They began to escort us into the tower and I had barely enough time to glimpse the enormous metal double doors before they closed behind up with a resounding bang that echoed through the gigantic hall that we had entered. 

The sheer size and volume of the hall makes me stop breathing for several moments. It isn't particularly extravagant or special, but its ceiling reaches for the stars, so high up that I can't see where it ends. 

In effect, I feel exceptionally dwarfed in the headquarters of CAP, which I suspect is the exact effect they wanted to achieve. 

A clever tactic to intimidate enemies and impress allies. Problem is, I don't know which one they consider me as. 

A glittering spiral staircase entwines around a huge pillar that goes all the way up to the top floor, and branches off into different levels of offices, and we begin to ascend. I had always thought that I was in decent shape, able to run a mile or two a day, but now I was being proved horribly wrong. Within the first 30 steps I was panting like a dog and my face was heavily flushed with beads of sweat dripping down my temples. 

We climb for what feels like hours, my legs and lungs burning as the floor grows farther and farther away. I'm so focused on simply putting one foot in front of the other that I almost crash into the man in front of me when we stop. 

I look up to see that we've reached the top of the tower (Finally) and halted in front of gorgeous double doors. They were a stark silver, like the rest of the building, and were engraved with impressive floral patterns that twirled around the words:

~Chaos Cannot Be Trusted~

The guard's expressions remain emotionless as they open the doors, revealing yet another spacious room with 12 empty grey chairs placed around a long conference table. The entire wall to the left is made of glass, revealing the city below and the dizzying height that we've climbed to. 

Two of the guards prod me towards the room, and I hear my mother make a small sound of protest in the back of her throat, but one scathing look from the guards and she shrinks back. My mother and I have never been close, but seeing fear present itself so starkly on her face, fear not for me but for herself, I feel a surge of regret for the things that could have been.

I know that she will not fight for me should the Council rule against my favor. I turn my back on her and enter the chamber.

The doors close behind me with a resounding bang and before I can even blink eleven figures cloaked in white robes glide through the doors on the other side of the room.

They walk in a perfectly straight line and they all look like exact copies of the one before. A withered old man with so many wrinkles it looks as if his skin is slowly melting off of him. Their back's are severely bent and their hands gnarled and spotted with age. A faint pearly glow emits off of each one of them, giving the impression not of power but of submission.

None of them speak as they settle delicately into the high backed seats, so I'm left hovering awkwardly at the foot of the table, eyes roving from face to face. Then a figure emerges from the hallway beyond the doors and the already quiet room becomes absolutely silent.

The man doesn't look nearly as aged as his companions and is taller than the average human being with a sparkling bald head and large ears. He is clothed in the same white mantle as the other men with the exception of glittering silver trimming that gleamed with each step. The back of his head is what shocks me the most though, and I have to force myself to keep my expression neutral.

Light blue strands of what look like tendrils of code snake up his scalp, like sapphire technological roots growing upside down. It's as if he has a supercomputer compressed into his skull that's begun to infect his skin cells and sneak its way into his brain.

I know who this is. 

Samael Zeagler.

President of the Collective Alliance of Peace, the first man to begin to gather the last remaining families and shelter them in Central behind the Wall. The man who butchered 50 rebels publicly last year in a fit of insane rage that anyone dare resist him and his power. The mind behind the plan to distribute the Virtual Reality headsets and main advocate to increase the control. Always more control. 

Samael sinks into his chair at the opposite end of the table and I vaguely notice that his chair is much more bedazzled than the other seats, with an ornate backing and fancy armrests.

 A strong aura of light radiates off of him, but unlike his companions its color is a sinister grey that has me averting my eyes against my will. 

Then he speaks, his voice devoid of any emotion. Deadly. 

"Rayla Sallow...." The way he says my name makes my heart freeze. "17 years old and daughter to Henry and Julie Sallow."

The mention of my long-dead father lights a fire of rage inside of me, melting away the fear that had held me frozen moments before. 

For it was this man sitting in front of me who carted him away that dark night so many years ago, stealing my father without a trace. That event was what sparked the fierce passion inside of me to find the rebellion, to overthrow the Council, whatever it takes. 

Samael raises his head and locks his dark eyes onto mine. Nothing on his face gives away anything, and I twist my features into a similar expression.

Give nothing away.

"It has come to my attention that you are excelling in school at a highly unusual pace for someone of your age." Seriously? He called me here just to talk about my grades? 

"Particularly," He continued, "in computer programming." His eyes scan my face. Searching.

The other members of the Collective have remained silent but as soon as the words leave Samael's mouth they all convulse violently in their seats, and for the first time a flicker of emotion crosses their faces.

Fear. 

"I have a proposition for you, Rayla Sallow. My team is constantly combing the city for potential candidates for our Virtual Reality Training Program, and they seem to believe that you, a 17 year old girl, may be our next student." Shock fills me as I take in his words.

Give nothing away.

"I have decided to give you a chance. You will be admitted to the program on a probationary period of 2 months. Any attempt to contact anyone against the Collective, and you will be terminated." 

Terror ripples through my system. I have absolutely no doubt that Samael could make me disappear as though I had never even existed. 

"Do we have a deal?" I nod, shock making my vocal cords incapable of moving. A self-satisfied smile spreads eerily across his face and he motions to the guards that have been standing on both sides of the door.

They grab me by the elbows and pull me back and out of the room. Samael watches as I leave, never breaking eye contact or blinking. 

Something tells me that he's playing with me. I have a strong feeling that he knows. And if I slip up, its all over.

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AN - .........Okay. NOT my best chapter. (understatement of the century) 😂🤷‍♀️ 

I'm finding Rayla to be a very hard character to write. 🤔 

This chapter doesn't really have any flow. The main reason I included it was because I had to introduce a super important character and I couldn't think of a better way to do it. 

This chapter was super boring and so descriptive that it made you fall asleep (so much Purple Prose) so thank you SO VERY MUCH for reading if you read this far!!! 

*hugs*

I love and appreciate anyone who has given this story a chance, and I hope that you'll stick with me for the next part. (Zahara's POV!!)

Thank you again and have a completely wonderful day!

-Aspen♡

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