A HANDFUL OF DUST
By Elleirabird

Disclaimer: All characters, places, and concepts from either The Underland Chronicles or The Hunger Games series are completely owned by Suzanne Collins. This work, however, as well as the character of Ari and all other original characters and concepts, are owned by myself, Ari/Elleirabird, also previously known as Seraphania. Please do not redistribute in any way. Thanks!

Author's Note: This story used to be called "Gregor and the Prophecy of Flight;" I changed the title because there's no longer a prophecy in the story, so it didn't fit. Sorry for any confusion! Much thanks.

PART ONE: SECRETS
CHAPTER ONE: FALLING

The dream started like it always did. Innocent. Beautiful.

Treacherous.

He was flying, soaring, above an ink-rushed sea of shadows. The darkness couldn't be penetrated, and normally that would have scared him, but there was no fear. Just joy, the pure, unadulterated sense of flight. The rush of currents around his air as he and his bond dove downwards, wings tucked in, muscles taut with excitement. They moved as one.

And then things changed. The darkness would shift, changing from their safe-haven to a world of nightmares. If darkness gained form it did so here, grabbing at them with intangible tendrils, pulling them apart, pushing itself between himself and his only link to light –

With a sudden twist and crack he was then falling, plunging down into the darkness.

"Gregor! Gregor!"

Gregor awoke with a start, his head jerking upwards. Something inside him clicked even before his eyes opened; his hands flew out and grabbed whoever had touched him, pushing them away. He jumped up, eyes open and taking in his surroundings. He was shaking like a wild animal.

"Gregor!"

Old Mrs. Costello stared oddly at him. She was an elderly woman with frail bones and a penchant for flowered dresses – in other words, the absolute picture of safety. It did nothing to calm Gregor down, at least for another few moments. His breath came in short, almost painful gasps. His hands, clenched into fists, shook uncontrollably. Sweat beaded his forehead.

Calm down, you have to calm down…

"Gregor, are you alright?"

The question helped Gregor focus a little. He swallowed. "Yeah," he muttered, voice rough. It sounded more like a growl. "Sorry."

Calm down. Just a nightmare.

He realized that the entire eighth-grade science class was staring at him with various degrees of curiosity, suspicion, and amusement. Only Larry, who Gregor caught shaking his head in his peripheral vision, looked truly worried. Well, him and Mrs. Costello.

Just a nightmare…

Still shaking, Gregor reached down and picked up his chair, which had fallen over when he'd woken up. It felt eerily light.

"Sorry," he repeated, clearing his throat. "I – dozed off."

Mrs. Costello peered over her spectacles to give him a stern look. "One more time and I'll have to send you to the office. Understand?"

He took a seat. "Yeah. My bad."

The teacher opened her mouth to continue the lesson (what were they studying, again? Astronomy, biology, electricity? Gregor wasn't sure.) but the bell interrupted her with its jarring ring, which served to only put Gregor more on edge. He felt his muscles instinctively tense up and had to fight to pretend that nothing was wrong.

"Read chapter fifteen," Costello called over the din of scraping chairs and heavy books slamming against each other. Gregor grabbed his backpack and slung it over one shoulder, halfheartedly pushing his way into the crowd. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed some of the other kids giving him wary looks.

"Hey, Gregor! Gregor! Wait up!"

Larry caught up to him before Gregor could do anything about it. He looked different than Gregor remembered, like he had filled out, gotten some sun. Unlike Gregor.

"Are you okay?" Larry asked.

"Fine." Gregor avoided eye contact and tried unsuccessfully to move ahead.

Larry gave him a shrewd look that Gregor pretended to ignore. "You had a nightmare, didn't you?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"You said something," Larry continued, evidently refusing to give up. "Actually, you screamed or something. I dunno. It was freaky – "
"I don't want to talk about it," Gregor snapped. Larry, and a few other of his classmates, froze, and Gregor realized that he had been shouting. He ran a hand through his shaggy hair and sighed.

"Sorry," he said, but Larry only turned around to give him one last glare before disappearing into the masses. Without meeting anyone's gaze, Gregor awkwardly navigated down the crowded hallway until he was almost at the front door of the school. It felt like the only words he was saying these days were I'm sorry, or something similar. Sorry for disrupting class again. Sorry for getting into a fight again. Sorry for saying the wrong thing – again. Sorry…

It didn't help that the nightmares were starting up again, either. Mrs. Cormaci had told him that they would slowly ebb away, but they hadn't; in retrospect, they had come back for more. Over the last few weeks, the dreams had only gotten stronger, both in intensity and length. At first, he had only had the falling nightmares, but lately, they had changed, morphed into a completely new terror. Now blood spattered against his dreams like flowing wine, and Gregor watched helplessly as the people he loved were killed by useable enemies that he could not fight. He would wake up, bathed in sweat and panting though it was the heart of winter, his heart thrumming as he would look around for the people that killed the ones he loved.

And when Mrs. Cormaci had asked him about his nightmares, Gregor only replied that they had changed. He refused say anything else.

Eventually the tide of moving feet brought Gregor to the main doors; he blinked as he stepped out into the open air. The frosty January air nipped at his skin. It didn't bother him much.

"Gregor!"

Everyone seemed to be calling his name these days. His first reaction was to tense up and ignore it, but the voice was too familiar – Lizzie. She waded through the sea of kids, which was finally dissipating, and took his hand.

"Hey, Liz," Gregor said, forcing a smile onto his face. "What's up?"

"Nothing," Lizzie replied. Their eyes found each other, and he knew that Lizzie could see through his lies just as much as he could see through hers. Good thing nobody else did.

"Come on," Gregor said. "Let's get him." He could feel her little fingers, even through the gloves, and moved closer to her in an effort to keep her from getting too cold. She was still so little, even at ten. It kind of worried him.

Taking the lead, Gregor pushed through the crowd, keeping Lizzie in his wake. He mindlessly shouldered other kids out of the way, until -
"Hey!"

Their pathway was suddenly blocked as a throng of winter jackets and backpacks moved backwards. "What's going on?" Lizzie cried.

"Dunno," Gregor said, standing on his toes to get a look. For once he was glad he was so tall. "Oh, Liz – it's a fight. Stay with me."

Two kids were circling each other in the middle of the school yard, surrounded by an eager, frightened, bloodthirsty pack of spectators. There weren't any teachers around to do anything about it.

It was ironic beyond belief that Gregor, the so-called Warrior, hated fighting. And doubly ironic that he seemed to be doing more of it than ever. Someone insulted him? He fought. Some kid was mean to Lizzie? Definite fight. Another student was being bullied? He didn't even think about it. It had only been four months since Gregor started school again and he's already had detention nine times, sent to the office three times, and had in-school suspension once.

Yeah, he was turning into a regular rebel.

"Gregor? Can we get out of here?" Lizzie looked freaked out, and Gregor snapped back into reality.

"Yeah," he said.

A roar erupted from the crowd, and Gregor caught another glimpse of the two opponents. His blood froze. It was a guy he'd fought before, called Erik. He towered over Gregor, even, and was a fair bit more muscular. But that didn't matter. What caught his eye was the guy Erik was fighting – well, the girl. God, she was tiny. She was almost as small as Lizzie, and she was cowering against the ground, shaking, terrified. Dark eyes flashed beneath an avalanche of streaked hair.

"Stay here," he ordered Lizzie before angrily pushing through the crowd. Despite his old injuries, despite the nightmares and the depression and the guilt, Gregor felt the instantaneous reaction of a rager.

"What are you doing?" Gregor demanded as he stepped into the open area. Erik and the girl were flying around each other, punching and kicking whenever and wherever they could. Before Gregor could intercept, Erik punched the girl in the gut, and she slumped to the ground.

"Hey! Hey!" Gregor grabbed Erik by the collar of his jacket and wrenched him up. "Stop that!"

Erik pushed him off, nearly making Gregor lose his balance. "Get out of my way. This isn't your business."

"You think you're cool, hitting a girl?" Gregor accused.

Erik lunged at him, and Gregor nimbly dodged the attack. Letting his backpack slide to the ground, Gregor closes his eyes, letting the rager sensation surge through him, unchecked. His eyesight focused and sharpened, giving him clear snatches of Erik's weak spots – the belly, the throat, the face, the groin, the backs of the knees and the solar plexus. Blood boiled and rushed through his veins, giving him an insane rush of energy and strength that he normally couldn't achieve.

Control it, he muttered inside his mind, trying to withhold the sudden power that welled up inside of him. Control it.

Yeah, sure.

The fight was quick and brutal, ending almost as soon as it began. Erik swung at Gregor once more, and this time Gregor responded, whirling around and catching the other boy by the legs, causing him to fall to the ground. Erik landed with a sickening thump, and Gregor couldn't help but wince a little on his behalf. He straightened up, feeling the blood pumping through his body. There was no joy in this. As good as he was at it, Gregor didn't particularly like fighting. Especially like this. He felt like a bully, now.

Shaking it off, he turned his gaze to the victim. The crowd was quiet. "Are you okay?" Gregor called to the girl

"She deserves it," Erik muttered from the asphalt. "She called me a – "

"I called him a sleazy douchebag," the girl snapped as she pulled herself up. It was obvious that despite her fighting back, Erik had gotten in a good punch; she was holding her arm tenderly. "Not like you don't deserve it."

"Shut up, you little wh – "

"Keep talking and I'll actually hurt you," Gregor said. The words were out of his mouth before he really thought about it, and the sudden ferocity in his tone was kind of surprising. And kind of frightening. "Come on," he said to the girl, putting a hand on her arm. "I'll – "

"Get away from me!" she hissed, flinching as though Gregor had slapped her. Pushing back her ragged bangs, Gregor saw a glimpse of her eyes.

At first he thought they had been brown, dark brown, like his. But they weren't. They were black. Entirely black. Not just the irises or whatever – every part of her eyes was a deep, flat black. Like a rat's, or a bat's. Like a monster.

And in their distant reflection, Gregor saw himself, a rager, a warrior, staring back.