A capsule floats down towards me, blinking from the eye of Henna's profile. I watch it apprehensively, wondering what the gamemakers would give me for the tribute feast. Henna's gift weighs heavily on my mind and I dread a similar fate, but the memory of Engle reassures me. They wouldn't kill me before getting their final battle. Until I meet Engle I am going to live.
The capsule takes its time, floating gently down and beeping every few minutes. I look to the forest below me. The lightning has stopped. Engle must be close enough to the hill. Glancing up at my capsule, I duck into the cornucopia in search of the Careers' hoard of supplies. The pile is lying at the very back, half covered by a tarp. I search for only one thing, finding it towards the edge of the pile wrapped in cloth.
Grabbing a leather wrapped hilt, I remove the cloth from a long blade that tapers gracefully at the end. Firelight glimmers on the cold steel and I see my dark reflection on its face. I frown at myself, brushing at the tangle of hair that had come undone with the absence of Prema's needle. The image is savage.
I hear a soft rustling of grass and turn to see that the capsule has landed just past my circle of fire. Gripping my blade, I slowly approach it. Up close I see that the capsule is more of a flat box about the size of a small brief case. I crouch beside it, running a hand over its face as I look for a way to open it.
The box opens at my touch, its metal lid sliding back against the strings of its parachute. A layer of foam fills the inside, cushioning a tablet and a large bottle of clear liquid. I pick up the bottle first and flip open its cap, taking in its heavy smell and sneezing. Lighter fluid. I remember the smell from summers with my family. Dad would use it for grilling and Justin would take it to build a bonfire.
Turning the bottle around in my hands I find a note stuck on the bottom of it. Carefully I peel off the sticky paper and read Prema's message.
Light up the night, Darling. Give them your message. –Prema
I grip the bottle, throwing the message into the nearby flames. What could she have meant by this? And what message was I to give?
The tablet awakens in its casing, interrupting my thoughts. Returning the lighter fluid to its place, I take up the tablet and stare at its blue screen. A message is typed out in black lettering and I instantly know who sent the tablet.
Think of your parents, Emma.
President Snow's message blinks out and is replaced with a video of my home. My parents are sitting on the couch, their attention focused on the television just out of sight. No doubt the channel is turned to the local news as they wait for some update on Justin and me.
My gut twists at the thought that they will never see us again. They will never know what we have been through and they will never know who is responsible. Would Snow even return our bodies to them? Probably not.
I rock back on my heels, my face crumpling as I begin to sob over the image of my home, my family. How could he do this to me? So you can be weak, says a cruel voice. So you can die. My side clenches and I rock forward, feverishly brushing the faces of my parents and tracing the outline of the couch, our rug, and our family portrait hanging behind them.
Something in my head clicks and I still, the tears slowing to a stop. The family portrait, the glass is moving. No, the glass isn't moving, but the reflection on it is. I lean forward, almost pressing my face to the screen and study the reflection. I don't see a mirror image of our news station. My breath hitches. Impossible.
It's faint and slightly distorted, but I see a video of myself standing on a circular platform. The image jumps and the reflection slowly pans over the faces of several tributes, Careers and Captured alike. It is the beginning of the games, the beginning of the Hunger Games. I can barely believe what I am seeing and it is like I have just broken through a brick wall, coming out dazed but invigorated.
My parents are watching the games. Snow was broadcasting to the world. I look up as the screen shorts out and goes black. They are watching me and I know now. Snow's ego had gotten in the way. He had meant to scare me, to make me weak. I don't believe he realized that the television's screen could be seen in the reflection. He probably doesn't even realize that I now know what he has done.
The world is watching. Suddenly I remember Prema's cryptic note and the bottle of lighter fluid. She said to give them my message, but what if it isn't really my message? What if it is Justin's? The numbers he had traced on my palm before his death are still there, imbedded in my mind's eye. It dawns on me then what the numbers mean and I grab the lighter fluid with a sudden idea.
Tossing the tablet into the box, I rise with the sword and bottle and find a large patch of earth within the ring of flames. I hold the bottle between my teeth and thrust the sword's blade into the dirt, dragging down. The blade makes a deep gouge with ease and I begin tracing out Justin's message. Reaching the end of his code, I retrace my steps and go back over it with the fluid.
My sword is the last to get a dousing of the bottle's remains. I don't light the blade yet, staring up into the night where I know the cameras are watching. It is time to give him a message, to let him know I am not defeated.
"So this is it." I say, my voice ringing over the crackle of flames. "Is this where I die? Where I lie down and take it? No. Not yet. Not now. It won't be here."
I pass my blade over the flames, watching as it slowly catches and turns into a blaze.
"You think I'm finished. You think that you have won, but you're wrong, Snow. After everything you've done to me, everyone you have taken." I begin to shout, a pressure building in my chest. "Caitlyn is gone, Clayton, Henna…Ronen died to save me and before all that…You. Took. Justin!"
My breathing becomes heavy, but I can feel the adrenaline coursing through my veins. It sings in my ears and sends shivers up my spine. I have been waiting a long time for this to come.
"What did you think it would do to me, Snow? Break me? Make me easier to kill? No, you have only made me stronger, because guess what? I HAVE NOTHING TO LOSE NOW! Nothing! You have taken everything away from me and that just makes me a dangerous opponent. So you want to bring me to my knees? You want me to beg? You'll have to kill me first, Snow."
I look at the flames licking my blade and feel the heat burn my face.
"Here it is, Snow! What you've always wanted. The end of it all. Here's your final battle."
I sink my blade into the beginning of Justin's message, the flames grabbing onto the soaked earth with glee. It spreads instantly, lighting up the night as the numbers 42.0000°, 174.0000° blaze. I stand back from the overwhelming heat, Justin's coordinates standing out clearly as a brand on the earth. The world will see this now, they will find us. If I die, then I die knowing that they will come. Snow's reign is finished.
"Come and get me." I say.
"Gladly."
I turn in time to have a weighted trap wrap around my throat and drag me to the ground. Wire cuts into my skin and I choke, frantically pulling the weights away, my fingers slipping on a thin layer of blood. Scrambling back onto my elbows I see Engle gliding towards me, passing through the ring of flames without hesitation. He is holding a cross bow, an arrow loaded and pointed at my chest.
Gasping I stand and hold my sword out, knowing that it will do nothing for me. Engle looks at it thoughtfully for a moment and then tosses the crossbow to the side. Reaching behind him, he draws his own blade from a sheath on his back and mimics my stance.
"Dou you like it?" says Engle. "I found it with pretty boy Ronen. I don't think he ever intended it to be used on you though." I remain silent and he grins widely before continuing, taking his time in the final fight. "You know I never imagined I would find you here, Sweetheart."
"The lightning didn't really give me a choice." I reply hoarsely.
He grimaces, jumping forward with a swipe to my head. I barely catch it, bouncing his blade back in an eruption of sparks. Engle is circling me before I can counter attack, lips spread tight and revealing his sharpened teeth.
"I wasn't talking about the lightning. You turned out to be more of a challenge… Girl who cannot be stopped. It seems your name has been proven to be true. A shame it has to end here."
There is another jab, another block that jars my arm. He dances to the side and lazily twirls his blade.
"Originally I had thought I might be facing Ronen, but he turned out to be weak. He wanted to trade his life for yours."
He spits in disgust, jumping forward in another attack. Our swords meet and he runs his blade down to my hilt. Engle's face is only inches from my mine and I can see the manic gleam in his eyes.
"Your boyfriend tried to make an arrangement with me to kill ourselves and let the games have you. I agreed right up to the point of the berries passing his lips."
"No." I whisper.
Angrily I kick him in the knees, sending him reeling back. Engle regains his balance quickly and charges. It is all I can do to block each of his attacks, his weight pressing down on me. We are driving towards the cornucopia, the ringing of metal filling the night, sweat causing the dirt on our faces to run.
I duck beneath a heavy blow and try to run out around him. Engle catches me by my shirt and I struggle as he wraps an arm around my neck. My sword is knocked from my hand and I can feel him dragging me back. All at once I stop struggling to pull away, falling back into him. Pushing into the dirt, I run him back and ram him against the side of the cornucopia.
A breathy grunt tickles my neck and I hear his sword drop to the ground on impact. Engle's arm is still holding me down and before I can throw him off, he tightens his grip.
"Can you imagine the look on his face?" pants Engle, running his nose along my exposed shoulder. "When he realized that he left you out here unprotected? Alone with me?"
"Shut up!" I growl, squirming under his touch. "Ronen was a good man, Engle. Nothing like you."
"Good isn't going to keep you alive in the games, Sweetheart."
I scream as Engle bites down on my shoulder, raking his teeth back through my flesh. Bile rises in my throat and I convulse, feeling him take away a chunk. His breathing becomes ragged and I am sick over his arm, kicking backwards to try and find his soft spot. A hot tongue laps at my burning flesh and I scream again, throwing my head back to get him off.
My foot hits the metal side of the cornucopia three times before connecting with my target. Engle releases me immediately and I fall forward, grasping my shoulder. It is wet, slimy with my blood and his saliva. Engle is slowly recovering and looks up at me, blood smearing his lips. I vomit again, unable to believe that he even exists. He isn't even human anymore, the games turning Engle into some sort of feral beast.
He licks his lips, approaching me with stunted steps as he regained movement.
"It's better than I imagined it would be." he says and laughs. "Ever heard the phrase 'tastes like sweet victory'?"
"Ever heard the phrase 'completely demented'?" I pant.
Engle's eyes are dilated, turning almost black in the blaze of the flames around us. I stumble back, afraid to look away, and my heel kicks against my sword. The blade swings out between us and he stops as we stare at it for a beat. My fingers twitch, the racing of my pulse somehow causing time to slow. The hilt is turned to the side, equal distance from the both of us and I meet Engle's hungry gaze. We are both thinking the same thing.
It's like a gun goes off, our reactions happening nearly at the same time. Engle races forward and I dive for the sword. His hand is around the hilt first and I dodge the blade as it whistles past my face. Dirt sprays up from the ground and I roll to the side, scrambling to my feet. Another swipe catches me along my collarbone and I feel the hot blood bathe my chest. The tip of the blade knocks me back and I fall on my stomach, my breath leaving me in a quiet huff.
Engle's footsteps are steady as he takes his time approaching. The world is fractured in front of me, bright colours sinking in and out of darkness. Through the fog I can see my last hope and reach for it. Engle is above me now and I scream, the sword biting into my back. He takes me up with a handful of my hair and turns me around to face him.
His face is dark, Engle's muscular frame back lit by the flames that surround us. He crouches down and lifts my face towards his still holding my hair so that tears are streaming down my face. The blade finds the jagged wound on my collarbone, cold steel digging into the hot flesh. My fingers brush something hard and knotted, curling around the leathery grip of Engle's discarded sword. Ronen's sword.
"Look at me." he growls, eyes flashing. "Look at me…You're going to die now. All that running, all that hiding it was just prolonging this moment."
Engle brings his blade up dripping black in the night and smears his fingers over it. The blade slices his thumb, mixing our blood as it drips between us.
"Tell me, girl who can't be stopped. Tell me you're going to die. I want to hear the words leave your lips."
My face twists up into a snarl and I place a hand over his neck, drawing Ronen's sword up and under Engle's guard. I hit flesh, the blade gliding through as if I were cutting hot butter.
"You're going to die." I tell him.
Engle's expression doesn't change at first, but I hear his sword clatter to the ground. A trickle of blood slips from his flared nostrils and he looks down. I watch his reaction, refusing to see what I know is to be true. That my sword was buried deep in his chest and I was the one holding it. I feel no remorse, no sense of victory, just a hollowness born in my heart that spreads to every fiber of my being.
I let go of the sword and tighten my grip on the back of his neck as he releases my hair.
"Look at me." I order.
Groggily he raises his head and I meet glassy eyes with a glare. Slowly I lean forward and press my lips to his ear, carrying his weight on a shoulder.
"You killed my brother." I whisper. "And this was for Justin."
He groans and I push him off me. The canon fire echoes above me before he hits the ground and a strange sensation washes over me. I am alone in the games. I had won.
I look up, searching for a carrier to take me away, but nothing happens. There is no announcement or the victorious sound of the Capitol's anthem. The fires around me slowly die, the darkness of night crawling closer until I am suffocated. It is then that I hear them. The whispers in the night.
"The light that bites us, tears us, fights us now runs and hides, and dies. We see you, we want you, Emma Price."
I back up from Engle's body, blood draining from my face as I retreat with the light.
"No." I whisper. "No, you can't."
"So brave, so tall, now you hear our call."
The flames are dwindling and I am left with the fire Henna had built. I fall to my knees, grasping my face as I try to understand.
"I'm the only one left." I yell, hoping to get the gamemakers' attention. "I won! I'm the victor! Please, take me away!"
"In the shadows we will cry. Hunting, THIRSTING, UNTIL YOU DIE!"
A screeching wind rises up around me and the flames go out. Something grabs me around my ankle, feeling hard and soft at the same time. There and yet non-existent. I feel cold.
"Please don't do this! Help me! HELP ME!"
The invisible creatures jerk back and I fly backwards throw the air. I scream, scrambling at the earth as I am dragged down the hill and into the trees. Nothing engulfs me and I pass out, hearing my name repeated by the whispers, sometimes quiet and sometimes deafening.