He woke up with Lydia's head on his chest, her hair tickling his chin. For a moment, Stiles was startled by the fact that no one had kept watch the night before, but there was nothing to do about that now. They were safe and that was enough. There was no use getting worked up over it, especially because he didn't want to wake her. She looked so content asleep, so peaceful compared to the despair of yesterday. He wanted her to stay that way as long as possible.

Last night was sort of a daze, not in the way that he couldn't remember but in the way that it all sort of blended together. Lydia had kissed him. Stiles kissed her back. Isaac was dead and nothing was okay but if they could just hold tight to each other then maybe they could feel like it was. He wouldn't really call it a make-out session because that made it sound like they were two naïve teenagers stupidly in love. So they had kissed for a while, and they were very very close while doing so, but it was partly a distraction.

Partly. Lydia had said it herself. She liked him, but she was also smart enough to be realistic about the situation. Now here they were, lying side by side, and Stiles finally understood the way Scott and Allison never got sick of each other. They were so ecstatic about seeing the person they love even if they had only been apart twenty minutes. They loved so unconditionally, so unselfishly. He had always teased them about it playfully, but now he was looking at Lydia as if she were the whole universe.

Stupidly in love. Maybe that was an accurate description. One thing is for sure, this is what Derek had been warning him about. "Don't get attached," he said. If Stiles thought he was fucked before, he was definitely fucked now.

"You awake?" a soft voice asked.

"Yeah," he answered.

She traced circles on his arm absentmindedly, still resting against him.

"What's our next course of action?" Lydia questioned.

Stiles hummed in thought, noticing the way she closed her eyes as the sound vibrated his chest.

"We're good on food and water right now, right?" he inquired.

"Pretty sure," she replied.

"I guess we could just stay here until we run out again," Stiles stated.

Abruptly, Lydia sat up and looked at him thoughtfully.

"Don't you think we should, I don't know, do something?" she said, rolling her eyes slightly.

He blinked and pulled himself up to lean against the cave wall. The redhead was probably right. Damn it, she was always right. Hiding out wouldn't work forever. Eventually, they'll have to deal with the Careers.

"Okay, so we should start doing some offense," he agreed, "But what? We couldn't win with outright attack."

Lydia nodded.

"We need something subtle and effective."

He bit his lip and allowed his gaze to roam the cave, going over their food supply and weapons before settling on the discarded parachute and container. Stiles narrowed his eyes and stared at them, a plan starting to formulate in his mind.

"You would trust a parachute, wouldn't you?" he asked her.

She looked at him confusedly.

"Yes," she replied slowly, drawing out the word.

"You wouldn't question it at all?" he continued, getting a bit excited, "You'd take what was inside and use it?"

"Unless there was something to make me suspicious, yes," Lydia answered.

He grinned and stood up, picking up the container and holding it out to her triumphantly.

"So let's abuse that trust," Stiles proposed enthusiastically.

She took the parachute and switched to a cross-legged position, examining the silver container with a small half-smile.

"It could work," Lydia stated, lifting her gaze to meet his, "but it needs to beep again, or else it becomes suspicious."

His grin instantly disappeared.

"Well, how are we supposed to do that?" he exclaimed.

The redhead merely smirked.

"You think I can't figure out this simple piece of technology?" she questioned wryly.

"Oh," he responded, taken aback but quickly recovering with a laugh, "How could I ever doubt you."

"Not sure," Lydia replied with a faked sigh, "I thought we already established that I'm a genius."

"Oh, I could never forget that," he said matter-of-factly.

She smiled softly, this one completely genuine, and just looked at him for a moment. Nervous under her marveling gaze, he sat down across from her.

"Anyway," she continued, swallowing and holding op the parachute, "we still need something to put in it."

"Right," he agreed.

"I suppose we could walk through the forest until we identify something poisonous," Lydia stated.

"I'm kind of counting on it."

And so they did. The pair armed themselves and packed their bags before setting out into the woods. Stepping out was difficult though. Stiles had nearly forgotten where yesterday's whole ordeal had begun, but now it was all back. He and Lydia watched the sky for those birds almost more than they scanned the plants. The more they were outside, the more anxious they became. Every little sound was an incoming Career or a vicious Capitol creation. Both were terrifying prospects. Finally Lydia identified the dark berries on a bush as nightlock, a deadly and fast-acting toxin. The pair gathered several large handfuls and quickly headed back to the cave.

As the redhead fiddled with the wires inside the container, Stiles cooked a small rodent over the lava stream. He couldn't help but feel guilty over the fact that they were eating what Isaac essentially died for. That's what they had been outside for yesterday, to get more food, and the fourteen-year-old had paid the price. He should have protected him. He deserved to live just as much as Stiles did. Tears pricked his eyes again but Stiles hurriedly pushed them away.

Lydia caught him though. She paused in her work and stared at him thoughtfully.

"He wouldn't be mad," she told him quietly, "And neither would Erica, for that matter. They knew what could happen, what was likely to happen, really… It doesn't mean it stops hurting though. I understand how you feel."

He let out a shuddering breath and nodded.

"It's just…" Stiles bit his lip, "What gives us the right to live over someone else?"

"What gives anybody the right to live?" she responded, "And anyway, don't get ahead of yourself. There are still three other people left."

And, god, wouldn't it be a miracle if one of them made it out. Stiles couldn't help but think that, and he knew she was thinking it too. What they were doing now was only postponing the inevitable. Unless something else happened, one of them or maybe both would have to face a Career. They weren't superior fighters. Stiles could hold someone off for a while but he wasn't good enough to make any damage on the person. As soon as he tires out, he's a goner.

He picked at the cooked rodent and deemed it finished, calling over Lydia to eat while it still tasted mildly good. She gave a distracted answer, clearly caught up in figuring out the container. Slowly eating his share, he watched her, taking in all the little quirks. She bit the inside of her lip and wrinkled the space in between her eyebrows when she concentrated. The waves falling in front of her face didn't even seem to bother her at all.

Suddenly a clear beeping sound rang through the air and Lydia looked up at him with a beaming smile.

"Never doubted you for a second," he stated with an equally wide grin.

"Well, I would think not," she smirked as she closed the panel over the wires and reached for the nightlock.

"Wait," Stiles spoke up, causing her to pause, "why don't you eat first? That'll be there when the food's gone."

She licked her lips and nodded slowly, giving him a soft smile.

"I guess you're right."

Lydia sat next to him and picked at the meat, eating just because she had to. It was the only reason these days. The beeping sounds continued in the background but what usually might be annoying was simply comforting. It was a hopeful noise, giving them something to hold on to, like maybe it could solve all their problems. As his right knee bumped her left one lightly, he felt altogether at ease. Stupid, he knew, but at this point he relished it. After all, it couldn't last long.

The beginning signs of evening were just showing in the sky when the duo left their cave. Lydia had wrapped the container in his jacket and stuffed it in a backpack to muffle the beeping as much as possible. They entered the forest heavily armed, still far too anxious about not being safely in their shelter. Lydia even had Isaac's wooden arrows within reach. Neither of them knew how to properly use a bow, but it felt like a tragic waste not to use them. Besides, as the redhead had pointed out earlier, they could stab a person at short range easily.

After filling up their canteens, the duo decided to follow the stream as closely as possible while staying relatively covered in the woods. As far as they could tell, it was the only source of freshwater in the arena. Sooner or later, the Careers would come by it. Stiles wanted to place the container farther down the trail, away from the volcano and closer to the cornucopia where he assumed they had made camp. The Careers usually took advantage of that plentiful area in the Games.

"How about here?" Lydia suggested.

He glanced around the area and eyed the distance from the volcano, making a noncommittal noise.

"Uh… I guess so," he replied.

"Stiles," she said, slightly annoyed, "what's the issue?"

He shook his head.

"Nothing, it's stupid," he muttered, "Let's get this over with."

She made a displeased sound but didn't press further. They walked to the edge of the forest, just by the banks of the stream, and quickly but carefully pulled the container from Lydia's backpack. She hooked the parachute back to the device and held it high as Stiles, the taller of the pair, forcibly snagged it on a tree branch. In the quiet of the woods, the beeping was shockingly loud, and their anxiety grew with each passing second. As soon as the trap was set up, they rushed away from the area and headed back to the cave.

The walk back felt longer, but at least they were treated to a beautiful sunset. It was fabricated by the Capitol of course, yet Stiles couldn't help the warmth he felt just by seeing it. That array of orange, pink, and purple was something to be enjoyed no matter what. As they walked, Lydia gently nudged her little finger towards his hand and, without words, they linked pinkies. He didn't know why exactly they did this. All he knew was that it felt right, as if they didn't just plant a poison for someone to consume. As if they were just two teenagers with nothing better to do but give each other butterflies in their stomachs.

The sky had only been getting dark for a few minutes by the time they reached the cave. That is, their shelter was barely within their sight when the cannon went off. Lydia and Stiles stopped dead in their tracks and tightened their hold on each other's fingers. He took in a shuddering breath and let it out with a barely suppressed sob, eyes fixed on the lingering pink of sunset still on the horizon. Lydia wrapped her arms around him, head buried in the nape of his neck as he tightly held her. Suddenly, at the boom of music, they jumped apart and looked towards the sky where the Capitol insignia was blazoned.

This was soon replaced by a teenaged girl with a high ponytail of dirty-blonde hair. Stiles stared at this picture and studied it like nothing before. He saw her tentative smile and dark brown eyes, her crooked nose and dash of freckles. And he saw so clearly in his mind's eye what wasn't in the picture. Her parents sobbing, taking gasping breaths, at the sight on their screens. The life she could've had, cruelly stolen. Stiles killed her.

"Oh," Lydia let out with a wobbly voice, "I see."

He turned to her, eyes glistening with unshed tears.

"What?"

"Why you were hesitating before," she told him, "I was just thinking about the moment, I was focusing on the technical. I… I forgot…"

Stiles swallowed and simply took her hand, this time holding it completely, and guided her towards the cave. The picture had disappeared anyway. Once safely inside, they dropped their bags and weapons immediately. Both still in shock, the pair stood trembling for several quiet seconds. But he couldn't take it anymore. Stiles gently embraced her, kissing her temple lightly and placing his hand on the back of her head.

"It's not your fault, Lydia," he said softly, "I was there too."

Slowly but surely, she returned the hug, silent tears dampening his t-shirt. They stood that way for nearly a lifetime, and he hated what they were feeling. It was truly ridiculous. The Capitol is what forced them to devise that plan. It's what really killed that girl. She was a Career but she didn't deserve death. She was just as much of a victim as they were. President Gerard is the murderer. Stiles knew that and he knew Lydia did too, so why did they feel so utterly broken? The guilt was all-consuming, crawling through his veins and threatening to take him over.

He needed to be stronger. They couldn't afford to get caught up in this. Which is why, when they finally pulled apart and sat down, he tried to stop the shaking that began anew with Lydia's next words.

"Did you realize there are four of us now?" she asked quietly.

As a matter of fact, he had. In the midst of the adrenaline and fear that had made up the day, there was a moment where it crossed his mind. At the time, it had felt very far away. Now, though, it was inescapable.

"Yeah," Stiles answered hoarsely, "and I remember what we decided too. We still… we still need to do that, don't we? We can't… I mean-,"

"No, you're right," she interrupted, biting her lip slightly, "We need to break up the alliance. It's for our own good."

He swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded firmly.

"But…" He took in a hopeful breath and searched out her gaze. "One more night won't hurt, right?"

Her green eyes met his amber ones as she gave a tiny nod.

"One more night," she whispered.

They moved so that they sat as close as possible and took out the last catch left from Isaac. Although they had already eaten a large-ish meal that morning, it felt like the right thing to do. It'd be unfair for someone to leave with food and someone to leave without, and anyway, this whole thing was quickly coming to an end. Neither Stiles nor Lydia said it aloud, but the feeling was almost tangible. They knew the Gamemakers didn't let things stay quiet very long, and with only four tributes left the finale was practically at their doorstep.

As the bird cooked, Stiles and Lydia leaned into each other, fingers intertwined. Her head rested lightly on his shoulder and the weight helped him breathe easy. She made him feel put-together when all signs pointed to his inevitable falling-apart. All he needed was to hold on, hold on, and maybe he'd never feel broken again.

But that was stupid, and naïve, and everything Derek had warned him about. Stiles couldn't hold on no matter how much he wanted to, and he couldn't ask Lydia to either. A few minutes later, the bird was ready to eat, and they began picking at it quietly. Yet it wasn't an awkward silence. They had gotten past that. Now it was the type of silence they could be comfortable in. With little glances and timid smiles, no talking was necessary. Besides, they were eating.

And when they were done, night was fully upon them. Stiles settled in the corner where they usually slept and Lydia lay beside him, not quite parallel, so that she could rest her head on his chest and he could wrap his arms around her. Their breathing synchronized and she gripped his hand, firm but not too tight. Stiles sighed and closed his eyes. At that moment, it was easy to pretend they were somewhere else. And so he did. He kissed the top of her head and fell asleep, as if all his troubles could fade away in the night.

But as expected, everything was still terrible in the morning. They barely spoke as they packed their things, wordlessly dividing what was left of their rations as equally as possible. Eye contact was practically off-limits, as if sharing a glance would be enough to make Stiles tear up. To be honest, it very well could be. But he couldn't dwell on that, couldn't think about it too much. That's what he's been doing all this time. It just wasn't quite working anymore.

"Are you going to look at me now?" she snapped, though most of the bite was missing.

Leave it to Lydia to call him out. They stood outside the makeshift cave doorway, everything having been cleared, and he felt like something inside his chest was snapping. A miniscule part of it wasn't even leaving her, it was leaving the cave itself. Without that shelter they would both be dead. That's a simple fact. It represented safety and security. Even in the midst of the Games, it felt like a haven. And now as Stiles finally locked eyes with the redhead, he couldn't help but feel… well… helpless.

"Lydia, what are we gonna do?" he whispered.

Her lips twitched into a half smile.

"You go one way, I go the other," she suggested softly.

He nodded minutely. It's not what he meant but it was clear she knew that. He felt like saying something meaningful but there were no words. What could Stiles possibly say? He didn't even know how to describe what he was feeling. Love was too strong a term at this point. It wasn't possible, but that potential was there. And, he supposed, that's all it will ever be now.

"Remember why we're doing this," he told her, voice trembling, "I care about you too much to ever hurt you."

"I know," she replied quietly, "We don't have another choice. When this ends, one of us will be going home. There's no use in both our promises being broken."

He nodded again and then they just stood there staring at each other, as cliché as that sounds. Both sets of eyes misting, both people refusing to make the first move and leave. Stiles couldn't stop looking at her because this was it. This would be the last time he saw her no matter who won, so he wanted to take her in, to breathe in everything that was Lydia Martin. Not only those light green eyes, soft red waves, and beautiful face, but her unapologetic genius, her snapping remarks, and her faithful compassion. And still he barely knew this girl. There must be more to know, more to love, and he would never get that chance.

So without even thinking about it, he leaned forward and kissed her. It was only meant to last a second but she pulled him closer and continued it. Eyes closed, he placed a gentle hand on her cheek and realized it was wet. He couldn't help but a laugh a little and she pulled away slightly at the sound.

"Are we only gonna kiss when we're crying?" he asked, because he was too.

How could he not?

"It seems that way," she replied with a small smirk before kissing him again.

Her lips were soft and she was so warm and full of love and he didn't want to leave her. Please, don't make him leave her. But everything had to end eventually. When she finally pulled away, she gripped his hand tightly and led him outside the cave.

"No matter what," she began.

"Try to win," he finished.

Neither could say the actual goodbye. It wasn't necessary anyway. Almost as if it was rehearsed, they turned their backs on each other, hands still clasped together. With shaking steps, they began walking away until their fingers could hold on no more. His skin brushed hers for the last time and he refused to look back. Stiles forced himself to keep moving and keep his head facing forward. There wasn't enough self-control in the world to keep him going if he looked back.

Time passed. He just continued walking. The tears dried on his face in the blistering heat and he took tentative sips from his canteen. It occurred to him that perhaps he should have a plan. As it was, he was just going to keep going until he ran into trouble or night fell. Whichever came first. And maybe he would win in a fight, and maybe he won't. He should perhaps also be more worried about safety, but what was the point.

It was late evening now. The beginnings of night were starting to be shown in the sky as he leaned against a tree and chewed slowly on the last of the dried fruit. That's when the cannon went off. The sound almost caused him to choke and tears pricked at his eyes. Lydia, that could've been Lydia. He had no way of knowing for at least another hour or so but he couldn't stop the thoughts. She could be dead.

And how could he go on. Damn, that was dramatic, wasn't it? Derek would roll his eyes so hard they'd hurt if he knew that thought had just run through his head. And he had to keep his promise. Try to win, try to win, try to win. Come home. And, god, did he want to go home.

As he was mulling these thoughts over, he heard a dull roar, then a massive cracking sound. And there was the roar again. Confusedly, he turned to wear it seemed to be coming from, slightly scared of more Capitol creations. What he saw was fifty times more terrifying. The volcano was erupting. Some part of him had always suspected this was part of the Gamemakers plans, but it shocked him nonetheless. Molten rock spewed from the top of the formation and more was exploding from it every couple seconds. He stared at it for a bit before the instinct to run kicked in, and then he was sprinting through the forest. For a while he just ran for the ocean but doubts soon sprang up. What if the arena barrier was too close to shore and he wasn't safe there? How deep into the water did he have to go to avoid being killed by lava? He had no answers, so he switched directions slightly. The Cornucopia was made of strong metal, surely able to survive the molten rock, and if he could climb to the top he'd be fine. Hopefully, at least. He really didn't have another option.

And then he was thrown to the ground in one hard movement. It was eerily similar to the start of the Games with the District 9 girl, but this time he knew it was a Career. Stiles quickly got to his feet to see Ethan. Pulling out his sword, he brandished it and eyed the sea of lava approaching on the horizon. It seemed far off now, but he knew better.

"We don't have time to fight," he pleaded.

"When else are we gonna do it, 10?" Ethan spat back, his own sword gripped tight, "This is the finale, don't you see? One of us is gonna die."

He didn't wait for a response. Their weapons clanged together as Stiles struggled to defend himself, but this wasn't like his fight with Matt. This time he was on the move. He kept running towards the Cornucopia, fighting to his best ability. He was lucky though. Well, no. Lucky wasn't the right word. Ethan clearly wasn't at his best. His moves were desperate and angry, less calculated than he had seen in the Training Center. There was something in his eyes.

He was just… off.

And Stiles found that he understood. He was a Career, but he was still human. The lava was far too close now, and the smoke was everywhere. He began squinting against the harsh substance in the air just as they entered the clearing. He knew he was fast, so he made a break for it. He ran to the very back of the Cornucopia where he could easily climb on top. Ethan was close behind and went to slash his legs once Stiles had the high ground, but he moved just in time. Letting out an angry yell, he joined him on the structure and launched into a series of enraged moves. Stiles luck had nearly run out.

The blade sliced the back of his hand, causing him to cry out and involuntarily drop his sword onto the ground out of reach. But he'd come too far to give up. Frantically, Stiles decided to tackle him. They hit the metal surface hard. Ethan was certainly surprised, and it was just enough to loosen his grip ever so slightly. Stiles grabbed the hand holding the sword and slammed it on the metal while trying to pull the weapon away. It didn't quite work. What was he doing? Ethan was much more experienced at this. He managed to push Stiles to the side to get him off, and that area of the Cornucopia was narrow. Far too narrow.

He almost fell off entirely, but Stiles left arm hit the ground and supported him instead. The support lasted less than a millisecond as he felt lava up to the middle of his forearm. The pain was blinding and he couldn't even hear himself screaming. Everything was forgotten. It was just make it stop, get it away. He somehow pulled himself over enough to pull his arm up, the steady stream of tears continuing nonetheless. Still letting out occasional cries of pain as the wound throbbed, he realized that he should be dead. Where was Ethan?

Opening his eyes finally, he saw the Career still flat on his back, this time on the curve of the Cornucopia. Holding his sword with the tip against his neck was a familiar redhead.

"Lydia!" he cried as he struggled to get up.

She kept her gaze on Ethan, knowing better than to get distracted. Clutching his left arm to his chest, Stiles stood beside her and looked on the scene. Now that he was closer, he saw the tear streaks on her face and the desperation on his.

"Go ahead," he spat, "get it over with. I'm sure the Capitol will love to see the two lovebirds fight to the death."

They both flinched. It's true. Had they really underestimated each other that much? Both of them surviving was never in the plan. And where had she been that she was able to save him?

"It's not worth it anyway," Ethan continued as, to their shock, he started crying, "Aiden was right. I fucked up big time. I never should've volunteered. I'm never gonna see him again. I'm never gonna see Danny again."

Lydia and Stiles exchanged a stunned glance.

With renewed vigor, the Career pressed on, "You have to tell them I'm sorry. Tell them Danny I love him, and I'mso sorry that I didn't listen."

"Eth-," Stiles began.

Just then, Ethan grabbed the sword's blade and thrust it into his neck. The cannon went off in seconds. Lydia instantly dropped the weapon and let out a sob.

"Oh my god," she breathed.

He had to agree. And yet, he couldn't find it in himself to freak out about what had just happened. He was too busy focusing on the now.

"Lydia, we're the last two, aren't we?" he asked quietly, knowing the answer all too well.

She slowly turned her gaze to him with an anguished expression.

"Yeah," she replied softly, "I killed Kali."

He nodded, swallowed hard, and forced himself to walk to the top of Cornucopia before sitting down. He wanted to get away from Ethan's body, but mostly the adrenaline that had rushed through his veins after realizing Lydia was there had faded. His arm was disgusting and painful. The outer layer of skin was nearly gone and all that remained was bleeding agony. Stiles felt himself crying all over again as Lydia sat to his right. She leaned in close and her presence made him feel minutely better. The lava had engulfed the whole island and the resulting fumes were all over. They couldn't help but start coughing. Lydia gently wrapped her arms around him as embers swirled in the air. Even the metal beneath them felt like it was burning.

"W-what do we do now?" he managed to get out, eyes squeezed shut in pain, "I can't kill you, I can't."

There was silence for a moment. Only Stiles's pained breaths made a sound.

"We wait to die," she finally whispered.

He immediately snapped his eyes open and met her somber gaze. Their faces were as close as possible without actually touching.

"I recognize the type of volcanic eruption," she replied, "It's fast-acting and lethal. The lava's toxic fumes will kill us soon."

He let out a long, quiet breath.

"So… whoever last longer gets to keep their promise?"

She nodded hesitantly.

"Okay," he replied wetly, "okay."

Tears streamed down her face as she rested her forehead against his. Everything was hot and burning, but he still wanted to be closer to her. He grasped her hand with his good one and held it to his chest after kissing it lightly. She shifted slightly and placed her head on his shoulder.

"Stiles. I'm sorry."

"Don't be."

"Did we do anything right?"

His crying picked up again, making small noises with each breath. He held her tightly with his uninjured arm and kissed the top of her head.

"What else could we have done?"

Stiles closed his eyes again and tried to picture District 10. The far-reaching green pastures and quaint inner village. His father's loving but crooked smile. Scott's wide, puppy-dog eyes. Allison's mischievous smirk. Melissa's gentle touch on his shoulder. He tried to remember everything, and found that some aspects had already slipped away.

Or maybe he was slipping away. Stiles was tired, after all, and he could feel himself growing weaker. He tried to open his eyes to check Lydia but… just… couldn't. He should be panicking, yet he was fine. It'd be dumb to say he was at peace, but he didn't want Lydia to die. He wanted her to go home to her mother.

And he was so tired.


The first thing he realized was that he wasn't burning anymore. In fact, he was a little cold. That didn't make sense. He opened his eyes, slightly surprised that he could, and found himself in a narrow bed in a small white room. There was a dull beeping sound signaling the beat of his heart. So… he was alive.

Stiles screamed as someone rushed in the door, but he wasn't paying attention. Lydia was dead. She was dead. Dead. Gone. He sobbed and screamed and cried her name along with the word "no," because it couldn't be true. It couldn't be real. How could Lydia Martin be dead?

"Stiles!" the person yelled as he tried to keep him from thrashing around in anguish.

"Lydia's dead," he sobbed, "It's not fair! Why do I get to live? She deserves to live!"

"Stiles, she's alive! Listen to me, Lydia is alive!"

The voice finally broke through and he calmed just enough to look at the man holding his shoulders and see it was Derek. His eyes were tinged with red and bruised with sleep deprivation, his hair ruffled from the commotion, but it was definitely Derek Hale. And he said she was alive.

"H-how?" Stiles asked hoarsely, "What are you talking about?"

His mentor shook his head in disbelief.

"They saved you both," he told him firmly, but with a distinctive soft edge, "We just don't know why."

Stiles survived the Hunger Games. So did Lydia. He should be ecstatic, but it didn't make any sense. One of them should be dead. He still felt like he was playing the game.

Well, that was a long wait. I am SO sorry about that. I hit quite the writer's block, but I've had most of this written for a long time. Anyway, thank you to all my readers who are still around! You're so fantastic, I love you all. There are probably a couple questions about this chapter such as what happened during the Lydia and Kali fight and where was Lydia that made her able to jump in. Those will be answered in the next one. Cross your fingers that that one won't take as long. On another note, this chapter's title comes from Lana Del Rey's song "Born to Die" which I suggest you listen to in the wake of this latest installment. Thanks again for reading!

Special thanks to Miss Savvy xoxo for leaving the most wonderful reviews and girl I am SO SO SORRY that the wait was as many months as it was. Still, I appreciate the kind words you leave and also you staying up so late to read my story. You're the real MVP. Also special thanks to SelenaQuintanillaLOVER and dragneel49 for leaving reviews too! You people keep me going. I send you all my love!