Chapter Twenty-Five.
One by one, the tributes awoke.
Their arms tingled with pain that started to fade, a bright bluish glow pulsating underneath skin. Their heads were aching. Their vision groggy and blurred.
Until, the very red moon that had become like a sun to them, started to shake.
A crack went up the underside, one line that turned into a branch that forked into an entire cobweb of ruin. The tributes held their breath as the moon hatched and their world was plunged into horror. The fire that had begun in the forest slowly started to spread, pushed inch by inch by imaginary winds that swirled in the sky.
The still water started to grow violent as waves lashed the shoreline, steadily moving closer inland and towards the village. But the main thing that drew the tributes' attention was the moon that began to break like an egg. The red tinge to the Arena vanished as the entire sky went pitch black. The moon was gone. Flames that started to burn into the sky became the light source as three mutts dropped from the air – from the egg – and landed into the Arena.
It was then, with lumps in their throat, fear clutching their hearts, that the tributes realised they were alone. Their allies were gone. Belarius and Ivo. Rell, Cillian and Eveny. Lucas and Adrina. More than half of those still remaining were no longer side by side with those they'd grown to care for.
Something had happened to them as they'd been forced into unconsciousness. Something had dragged them to different parts of the Arena as the egg hatched, the fires grew stronger, and the waters more aggressive as they swept towards the village.
The hourglass had brought a terrible change.
The tributes had no one, as they had to make the choice to reunite or stand by themselves, knowing the cost of survival.
This was their lonely hour.
Prosper had blacked out somewhere near the centre of the village.
He re-awoke close to the edge of the forest. The first thing he did was watch the Arena as it slowly started to fall apart. The flames licked the air near his head, burning the sky above, a red and orange streak that cut apart the silence.
He set forwards as quickly as he could. His eyes never left the area where the mutts had fallen. One of them travelled through the sky quickly and joined the smoke within the trees. His heart leapt into his throat as he struggled through the fear and moved swiftly on. For a moment, as he dealt with the catastrophic changes, he forgot himself and what had happened so far.
Then, like hammering a nail in, Prosper's mind went back a day or so ago, and the fear washed away. A longing filled his heart as he thought of Luella. Pain swarmed the front of his mind as he struggled to take step after step. All he'd wanted to do was protect her and he couldn't even do that. If he'd failed that, the next probable prediction would be his failure of surviving. Of winning. Of living.
He'd known the two couldn't have existed together. He couldn't protect Luella and protect himself. But believing in something that couldn't happen made living in such a bad world easier. A place that wasn't like the stories. Heroes did not exist.
Now, with reality punching him in the face, the fear drowned out, the longing faded away, and that hungry, furious rage became like a second sword in his hand. He was angry at the Capitol. He was angry at the people that had pushed Luella to volunteer. He was even, in someways, angry at Luella for throwing her life away in the first place. But then he hated himself for thinking that.
He was angry at himself.
More importantly, he was angry at Aurelie. And it was that anger that made his strides surer and filled with purpose. He entered the left hand side of the village with only one goal in mind. He had to win for Luella, so her memory didn't fade away. He didn't blame Ivo for what he'd done to Darina. He didn't blame Belarius for being part of the plan that had torn apart the Careers.
They'd done things for their own survival. Prosper blamed no one but Aurelie. They wanted her dead just as much as he did. If he could find them, maybe together they could accomplish that shared goal.
He had to get his revenge.
Maybe then he'd find his peace.
Ryon hadn't been moved.
He'd fallen unconscious near the tomb. He woke up under the stone monolith, his eyes picking up the darkness of the sky above. One of the three mutts had fallen into the water. He spent a single second looking into those violent jet-black depths and moved closer towards the tomb.
He wasn't sure what the point had been of the Gamemakers forcing him to black out. Nothing had changed. He still had the weapons they'd given him. He was still a few feet from the tomb which promised such a chilling trade. A dead body for a reward.
Maybe that was a good thing. Maybe the fact they hadn't intervened with Ryon meant they still wanted something from him. He tried to offer a grateful smile to the cameras. He was sure it didn't look convincing but that didn't matter. For the time being, he had their attention. Now he had to make sure he didn't waste it.
He set foot into the tomb and perched himself near the entrance. The slope that led down into the morbid structure meant he wouldn't see anyone coming until they started to follow the path. But it also meant he had enough time to duck away and hide in the shadows. Or better yet…
His eyes fell on the open coffin and he realised what the Gamemakers wanted.
Someone was nearby.
They hadn't done anything to him because the fight they'd promised would be upon them soon enough. The idea of bloodshed was too good an opportunity for the Gamemakers to thwart. Ryon, gritting his teeth, knowing his future, held onto his weapons in sweaty, shaky hands, and kept an eye on the incline upwards.
Now, he would wait.
Soon, he would fight.
Damn them.
Lucas eyed the Cornucopia with a frown on his face.
He wasn't aware that Ryon had been given the same reprieve. The Gamemakers had plucked Adrina from their alliance and let him stay put. The Cornucopia was a place that drew violence towards it, like a golden beacon, shining into the darkness and pulling people in the direction of a fight.
For twenty or so minutes, Lucas tried to adjust to the idea of being alone. It was a strange feeling. All his life he'd pretty much been a loner, moving from one place to the other, head held high as he fought through the rest of District Twelve. Some people he spent time around. Others he didn't waste his breath on.
He wasn't necessarily better than them. But Lucas never tried to care too much. It had always worked out that way. Until Adrina came along.
Now with her absence, there was something hollow inside his chest. Like Adrina's presence had filled a gap he'd never been aware had existed in the first place. Now that he knew of it, he was worried. Adrina was out there, somewhere. Alone or surrounded. Maybe she was grateful to be gone from Lucas. He wasn't the friendliest of people, he knew himself as the kind of person he was. He'd never tried to pretend otherwise and Adrina had seemed content to put up with him.
If the Gamemakers had changed the Arena because they'd been looking to stir things up, they'd left Lucas near the Cornucopia for a reason. They'd removed Adrina instead, because they wanted something from him.
He looked at the supplies, sitting there, tempting him in, and knew that as long as there was a tribute breathing, they wanted someone to bring the fight to them. Tributes would fight over food and water. People needed taking care of, even Lucas as much as he hated to admit to weakness. He wasn't perfect. He wasn't anything more than another tribute fighting for survival.
So be it. With dread in his heart and fear misting his mind, Adrina's face circling round and round, he moved closer to the golden horn.
He'd kill anyone that tried to take this place from him.
Lucas was prepared for anything.
And anyone.
Adrina tripped halfway down the hill.
Her body tumbled and rolled and smacked hard against the beaten earth at the bottom. She looked up, rubbed the back of her head with a groan, and watched the smoke swirl around the top of the clock tower.
From the Cornucopia one side of the Arena, to the other. Somehow she'd been transported an hour or so away from Lucas. She'd have to face everything within the village to get back to him. What startled Adrina the most was the fact she would. She really would.
Lucas may have been one of the strongest still alive, someone she feared and respected and resented all at the same time, but she cared for him. He was his ally, like she was his.
I wonder what he's thinking right now. She smirked and stopped herself from laughing too loud. Knowing Lucas he was probably focusing more on the weapon in his hand and what he'd have to do with it than his own ally. That was Lucas. Too serious. Too focused for his own good. He was stepping over a line Adrina had tried to keep him from crossing. The second he stepped that line, away from his morality, there would be no going back.
Alone, with the wind howling through the air, a breeze scratching her cheeks, she watched the water move inland and towards the village. It slowly rose above her shoes until each step became a loud slap of water that echoed further down and into the Arena.
She wanted to curse out loud but it wouldn't do her any good. She had a knife, a backpack of food, and her wits still about her. Despite how much she longed for Lucas' presence, she also valued her own life far too much to stumble into the village and take on the entire Arena. She had to be smart. First, it would do her well to canvas this new area. The clock tower that had changed the Arena stood proud and unbroken, the sand from the hourglass in the other side.
She could see the village, the first line of houses, about a few minutes walk from where she was. The most striking thing, however, were the rocks tipped against one another. They formed a sort of abstract picture that arced upwards and beckoned her towards something she couldn't see from her position.
What do I have to lose? She didn't feel like answering that question. She knew very well what she could lose. The thought didn't do anything for her already questionable courage.
She moved for the stones and paused, peering down into something that seemed half above and half below the earth. Adrina's hand patted the stone, for whatever reason, like she needed reassurance from something without her ally to help her.
The knife in her hand felt heavier than it really did. She moved for the building ahead, what looked like some kind of tomb, stuck in the ground. When she breached the entrance, crossing the threshold between the ruin of outside and the cleanliness of the inside, she stood stock-still and stared at what was before her.
Three coffins. She tilted her head with curiosity and moved for them. The Gamemakers had moved her this far for a reason. They'd put this place here because they intended someone to come across it. Was she the first one to find it? She had no answer to that question.
As Adrina placed her hand over the rim of the left one, she slowly walked towards the right, dragging her hand along. It was peaceful. A deathly kind of silence that didn't help Adrina calm down. Her heart beat quickened in pace as she stopped in front of the right.
Her eyes met the carvings above, she peered over the edge, and without warning, a knife went straight into her shoulder.
Agony burst up her arm as someone jumped out from the coffin and stood, breathing hard against the wall, clutching his chest.
Adrina looked at the blood trickling down her arm and the way it suddenly felt like a weight, swinging lifeless by her side. She gripped onto her knife as best she could and let the blurriness in her eyes swim away.
That was when she saw Ryon, standing in front of her. He saw her too. District partners, metres away from each other. They no longer had the comfort of a train ride. Or the Capitol to protect them. Or even an ally.
"Adrina," Ryon sounded panicked. But the kind of panic that he tried to control, only for it to give his fear away even more.
"Ryon." Adrina tried to shake her head clear of a fog that slowly rolled in behind her eyes. "Funny meeting you here."
"I wouldn't call it funny," he grinned, sadly.
He had a belt of knives. A sword at his hip. A bundle of supplies packed into the corner. Someone had been generous when sponsoring Ryon. Adrina looked into the pain that raged in his eyes and knew why. He'd promised them he'd fulfil his role as a tribute. Whether that meant the death of someone he didn't know, or the death of the very girl opposite him.
District partner versus district partner did promise a very satisfying encounter.
Unfortunately for the Capitol, she wasn't about to please them with a long-winded conversation about nothing. Adrina wasn't a fan of pretending things could work another way. Ryon was a good guy. Good in a different sense. Whether she wanted to kill him or not, that didn't matter.
The answer was plain to see.
Adrina threw herself in his direction before he could say anything else. He hadn't been expecting that. She launched a fist that smashed into his nose. As he shrieked with pain, memories flashed in front of Adrina's eyes as she kicked him in the stomach, cutting open his own shoulder.
Lucas and Adrina had attacked them. Killed his ally. Taken the last friend he had. And somehow, Ryon was still here, intact and ready. She admired him just as much as she did Lucas. They were both strong. Both willing to do what had to be done.
She only had to be more willing.
Adrina tried to cut open his throat. Ryon saw her movement at the last second and brought his arm up to block the blow, twisting it round and slashing open her cheek with a knife. He stepped backwards, rounded the coffins, and drew his sword.
Adrina looked at the knife in her hand, groaned, smiled, and then vaulted the coffin and jumped over the last one. Ryon met her next blow and dodged her attempt to stab the blade into his face.
He was quick. As quick as she was. The pain in her shoulder felt distant, like it wasn't bothersome anymore. She was aware that it was a result of the adrenaline driving her onwards in the fight, but she wasn't in a position to complain.
Ryon smiled at her himself and moved outside of the tomb, backing up towards the stone and away from Adrina. She chased after him. If she let him go, he'd only find his way back here. When she realised he was moving round the stone and towards the shore, she saw what he planned on doing.
He wasn't running away. He was leading her to an open space. Where it would be easier to kill her, nothing to hide behind, nothing to escape over. With the water at their feet, soaking their shoes and body, the fight would be decided.
Adrina used her fear and pushed herself onwards. She met Ryon's sword strike with her knife, metal clattering away from her blade. He slashed to the left, attempting to cut open her stomach. The steel bit into her skin, but she'd jumped back with enough space to stop him from killing her.
He was tired. She was tired. The Arena had taken so much from them. Too much.
Adrina managed to cut open his shoulder once more. Ryon sliced open her leg. She cried. He cried. She was pain. He was in pain.
It went on for a few more minutes, both of them falling to their knees. The water thrashed over their shoulders in violent waves. Ryon held on, digging his sword deep, acting like a crutch to keep him up and steady. Adrina yelled out loud when they swept her away.
The tide pulled her back towards Ryon. Back towards their fight.
His fingers went for the belt round his waist and she realised, with tearful eyes glazed in pain, what was about to happen. She'd never given up. Whether the world was a shit place and she had so many questions, Adrina had kept on fighting.
She tried to stand up. She tried to give it her all. But the waters were too strong, and the Gamemakers too generous towards Ryon, not her.
He pulled out a knife as she was thrown towards him. He shouted as he toppled backwards and was dragged with her. Adrina screamed as the blade went straight into her neck.
It was the last scream she ever got to make.
The black of the waters were dyed a sickening shade of red as her cannon sounded. Her body was pushed back towards the shore, bloody and still. He stood up on two legs and hobbled towards her.
"Adrina…" His voice cracked as he fell by her side.
He'd killed. He'd actually taken a life. And not just any life, but the life of a girl from his home District. She might have fought him earlier on, tried to kill him, her ally slaughtering Dante. But he'd never hated her.
This had been his plan.
His eyes went over his shoulder and landed on the tomb again. He hated himself for trying to do what he did next. It was the only way.
As he went to scoop her body up and made it further up the shore, something moved from under the waves. Ryon remembered the moon. The crimson egg. The mutts that fell from the sky.
A tentacle snatched Adrina's body, knocking the wind straight from Ryon's lungs and throwing him backwards. She was dragged under the depths and out of sight. Ryon stared at the waters, shocked to silence.
Then he started to cry.
Vallah's body was gone.
Cillian didn't even care that he'd lost what was needed for the reward. What he cared about, shivering as the cold water soaked through his shoes and lashed against his legs, was the fact Rell and Eveny had vanished alongside her corpse.
He looked out into the village. He'd been walking for some time now. With his allies, he'd found it easier to focus more on the two of them than their actual surroundings. Now he was in a part of the Arena he'd never been to, closer maybe to the front where the Cornucopia was, than the back where they'd found the tomb. Or maybe he had his directions messed up and he was in a completely new place.
Cillian sighed and ran a hand through his dirty hair. It was thick with grease and filth that had accumulated over the course of the Games. In another place and another time, Cillian had kept up his appearances.
Now, they didn't matter in the slightest. Not that they ever really had.
All he wanted, as he struggled towards something, was for his friends to come back. They were out there somewhere, alone, trudging through the water and the heat of the fire that swirled through the air from the forest. They were alone with three new mutts.
Cillian wasn't even scared for himself at this point. He was more scared for Rell and Eveny. Even after killing Vallah, he couldn't focus on anything other than his alliance and how they were faring. His own state of mind seemed forgotten when he continued to think about them. Either it was a coping mechanism, or something had snapped and he was past the point of caring for his own wellbeing.
If he couldn't work for his own survival, then he had to work on helping his allies. But first finding them. The Arena seemed bigger with every passing day. For such a shoddy village, run-down and desolate, the roads seemed to go on and on, weaving in and out through houses that were in various stages of disrepair.
Cillian wanted out. But he wanted Rell and Eveny to have that chance as well, even more than he wanted it for himself.
It was either stupid, heroic, or both.
Probably both.
Aurelie was almost thankful for this new change.
The fact she now had to adapt to what the Gamemakers had now done, made it almost easier for Luella's memory to become nothing. When she thought of her name, there would always be that aching confusion and hollow pain. But first, she had to focus on the living. The living meant herself and those that wanted to do her harm.
In some ways, Aurelie was glad she was a lone wolf. She no longer had to deal with fighting a losing battle against those that right from the off she'd struggled to connect with. It was for herself and herself alone.
One of the mutts had dropped far too close for comfort, near the centre of the village. She was cautious with every step she took. It seemed relatively large. One of its arms was bigger than the other. Its body an inky blue with bristles covering it from head to toe. The tributes had always seemed the one and true foe in this. Now, she had to focus more on the Gamemakers and the fact they had sway over whether she came out alive or not.
For a long time, Aurelie had let her emotions dictate her life, when all she'd done was pretend she didn't feel anything. Now that she was trying so hard to let it all go, she was surprisingly finding herself in a rather calm state of mind.
Luella's head rotated round and round behind her eyes, somewhere locked in the deepest, darkest recesses of her mind. But the Games were easier to focus on when all she had to do was take it step by step.
She was past the point of claiming to be someone better than the rest of them.
They'd all survived and made it to this point. So far into the Games, they deserved it, regardless of what they'd done and who they'd done it to. Each fight would be hard, but each fight Aurelie was determined to go in peacefully, composed, and determined to win.
She wanted to find the Cornucopia again.
They'd moved her away from it, deeper into the village for a reason. But that didn't mean she couldn't make it back the way she'd come.
There, she'd take back the front of the Arena and wait for the other tributes to flock towards supplies. When that happened, Aurelie would do what she had always prepared herself to do.
Kill, deal with it, and survive.
Though she took no pleasure in the worst kinds of actions a human could commit, in the Arena, they were actions Aurelie would cope with and move on from.
They were the actions of a tribute.
Rell slipped and stumbled down the incline of sand.
She'd waited for a while at the summit, looking down onto the Cornucopia and the boy from Twelve as he sat with the supplies round him.
Her mind had gone from panic to fear to worry to anxiety to everything in-between. Now, Rell just wanted to find Cillian and Eveny.
She'd been put right at the top of the sand, next to the pedestals from the beginning. Her mind raced back to the bloodbath and the chaos she'd had to fight through. Rell hadn't been stupid and thrown herself into the fray. She'd done things the smart way, something she couldn't always say about herself, and it was because of that she'd survived.
Rell wasn't about to throw her life down the drain before she got to meet up with her friends again. The knife in her hand trembled with the nerves that went down her entire arm, but she tried to hold it steady and progressed onwards. The moment Lucas caught sight of her, his back went rigid and his arm shot out to pick up a spear.
He didn't throw it.
Rell tried to smile and attempted a friendly wave in his direction. She jumped the last bit of the sandy hill and moved towards him. Not too long ago, Rell wouldn't have held back. Not from a fight, but from taking the situation and rolling with it, regardless of the consequences. She could tell that Lucas was on edge. That was he ready to play the killer and win.
But so was Rell. Even with Cillian, someone she cared for, deep in her bones. And Eveny, a friend through everything, a girl that understood the Games just as much as Rell did. Even then, her own life meant so much to her, so much that it hurt to consider what she'd have to do and go through to reach that point.
They'd already accepted the idea of killing a small girl for some kind of reward. And instead, she'd let a sweet, humble, friendly boy kill someone else rather than having the courage to do it herself.
Her body had gone, as they'd been split apart.
That was the worst thing. All of that for nothing.
"Don't come any closer," Lucas warned, shaking his spear firmly. His teeth were gritted together. He looked quite deadly. Something Rell knew would never be the case for her demeanour. She could talk the talk, but she really wasn't that kind of person. "What do you want?"
"The same thing everyone wants," Rell shrugged, smiled, and gestured to the supplies. "Give me two minutes to collect some food for my alliance and I'll be on my way."
"No." Lucas shook his head. "You… you can't. I won't let you."
"Do we really have to fight with a goddamn fire moving for us, the water trying to drown us, and three humongous mutts dropping from the moon? Can't we save it for later and just be on our way?"
"I'm not going anywhere."
Fuck me he's stubborn. And I thought I didn't know when to stop talking.
"Look, Lucas. Why risk dying-"
"Who says I'm going to die?"
"-when you can just let me get some food, run along, and get out from your hair. Please. From one reaped kid to another. Let me go."
Lucas paused to think it through. Rell hoped she'd gotten through to him. If she had to fight him, she would. As much as she was sure she'd hate herself for killing a boy that was only trying to defend his position, they all wanted that coveted spot of victor. Mainly because it meant they got to live.
She watched his face go through ten or so emotions, before landing on one that made him sigh and unclench, the spear lowering to the ground.
"Be quick about it. Don't take too much."
"Thank you," Rell smiled. She wasn't stupid enough, just in case it was a trick, to get too close to him. She nodded and skirted to the right, ran straight for the supplies, and in a matter of minutes, was gone from the Cornucopia.
Time to find Cillian and Eveny.
Ivo threw himself behind cover.
He stopped himself from breathing too hard, swallowing his fear down as he clutched his chest. Ivo's entire side ached from sprinting so much, round corners and through buildings and down village streets. He was now out of sight.
Hopefully.
He peered round the corner and saw the large mutt move the opposite direction. It was terrifying. The other two mutts had moved to the fire and water. For now, he didn't have to worry about them. But this one, as it went through the village, no doubt looking for foes, was the real enemy. The other tributes might still be out there. But Ivo found it hard to even process the idea of another fight with that creature skulking through the shadows, stalking its prey.
He waited another few minutes until he stood up, tried to compose himself, and went round another corner.
Before he could stop himself, he launched right up in the air, the fear he'd held down skyrocketing straight into his throat as he yelped out loud. Prosper fell backwards as he connected with his chest and landed in the dirt.
At the sight of the boy from One, Ivo's mind raced back to the Career fight. Shame roiled around inside his stomach, quenching the terror at the mutt and replacing it with a terror for himself. He'd prepared for so long at the idea of killing. Belarius had told him it wasn't so bad, as long as you distracted yourself.
But with Ivo, no matter what he tried to do to tell himself he'd done what had to be done, he couldn't help but think of Darina's family and friends. He had his own loved ones and they would have fallen apart over his death. He'd done this to another woman's daughter, someone's sister, a friend, a niece, a cousin. Ivo had hoped the Careers would have worked together, that he wouldn't have to be the person to split them up.
That was before he met them for good.
And now, he'd not only killed someone, he was one of the reasons why they were all alone. Why Prosper was staring up at him on the ground, looking at his feet, then the sword in his hand, dried blood caking its point, and then up into his eyes.
Ivo prepared himself for another fight, as hopeless as he felt right now. When Prosper smiled and shot straight up, wrapping him into a hug, Ivo choked on a sob that soon rattled out into a broken laugh.
"I'm so sorry…" Ivo had stayed back during most of the Capitol, but that didn't mean he'd never cared. He did. He always had done. It was that care that made him meet Prosper's embrace. "I only…"
"You saved your own life. She was trying to kill you. I was… I was trying to kill you." Though Prosper shook with some other kind of emotion, Ivo relished their hug until the two of them broke it off.
Maybe it was just the sight of being with someone. Ivo was reeling from the idea of losing Belarius. But he was alive. Somewhere. And he would find him, no matter what it took. Like he'd cared about the idea of a functioning Career alliance, he cared too much for his friend through all of this.
"I don't hate you for what you had to do," Ivo said, smiling. "I hope you don't hate me as much as I hate myself…"
"I think it's become a part of all of us. I hate myself too."
"Let's start a club," Ivo joked, laughing weakly. "I'm sorry about Luella."
"Me too." Prosper bowed his head.
The two stood in silence for a few more moments. Prosper then met his eyes and smiled. Ivo had been searching for Belarius, and he would keep searching. But the idea of teaming up with Prosper gave him such relief from having to be alone, that he almost threw the idea out there without giving himself time to think it through.
As it happened, however, Prosper had the exact same idea. "We should stick together. Find Belarius. The Careers might have fallen apart, but we can build up half of it together. Then fight through whatever's now become of the Arena."
He sounded like his old optimistic self. There was another edge to him. The way he spoke. The way his eyes were aflame with something. But Ivo had always been hooked to the words of others, silently holding back his own worries and anxiety because he preferred to follow than lead.
A team sounded good, though. He wasn't sure what there was to worry about, at this point in time.
"Deal."
What Prosper didn't tell Ivo, as they went on the search for Belarius, was the next stage of their plan. It all revolved around revenge. With Aurelie, right at the heart of it.
Ivo just wanted his friend back.
Prosper had lost his. As much as he cared for Ivo and Belarius, they would never hold a candle to the light that had been his District partner.
And together, they would kill the real monster in the Arena.
Marshall tried to make himself stop feeling.
He tried to tell his stupid brain to stop picturing Acacia's sweet face, before the torture of the fire. He tried to tell his goddamn heart to stop beating faster when he thought about Carson and what had happened. About Vallah and how he'd left her, at the mercy of a whole alliance.
He told his eyes that if they didn't stop misting over, he'd gouge them from his skull and be done with them.
But as much as he told his body to go one way, there was no changing what was happening. Marshall tried to control a lot of things in his life. His own humanity, however deep it might have once been, hiding in the shadows, was one thing he'd never be able to dominate.
He had done what he'd always known would happen. He'd joined an alliance because he knew his limitations in battle and had surrounded himself with people that could defend him. He knew that eventually, when the moment was right, he'd have to kill maybe one or two of them so he could leave and survive.
And now that he'd done such a thing, to someone that hadn't even originally been in his alliance, Marshall hated himself. He hated how he saw things. He hated the unfairness of the world that they were all forced to live through, and how he couldn't cope with the idea that maybe he did deserve to die. Maybe the better people should live.
Dominic was better than him. Carson was. Acacia was. And here was Marshall, running through the ashen village, under streaks of fire, one of the worst people because he'd been willing to be that bad person. He hated the fact he wasn't about to give up even though someone like him did not deserve the title of victor.
Vallah, if she was still alive, deserved it more than him.
But Marshall, as he moved through the village from wherever he'd been transported to, knew he would never stop fighting. He would never stop being that bad person. No matter how much it hurt, he was just scared. Death was the most frightening thing around. He wasn't ready for an end.
Marshall didn't have a plan. He'd spent so much time focusing on what had to happen before the dissolution of his alliance, that he'd never considered what would happen next. Maybe because, somewhere, he'd never actually thought it would work.
Since when did I become so unconfident? Where he'd worked, what he'd done, hating himself would never have helped. But in this Arena, he had too much time to think about his true self. He really did hate who he was.
Marshall rounded a corner of the Arena, with that in mind, and halted almost immediately. At the sight of another tribute, moving down the opposite side of the street, Marshall's heart leapt into his throat and choked the first word that threatened to spill.
He realised how alone he actually was.
Now that there was someone else, he had no alliance to back him up. No alliance to go crazy and swing their swords to save him from a burning pyre. Marshall had Marshall. It had been a good thing in a battle of words. In a battle of swords and fists, not so much.
He recognised the boy from Three.
His alliance was nowhere to been seen. Marshall was confused for a moment. Maybe Cillian realised what he was thinking and smiled sadly. "The Gamemakers did something. They split us up."
"Oh, so that's what it was." Marshall laughed. "I thought they were just fucking with us."
"That too."
Cillian stepped back when Marshall stepped forward. Marshall moved back when Cillian moved forward. The two stood there, facing one another, with a weapon in one hand, knowing what had to happen, and being too scared to do it.
Then Cillian spoke, and Marshall's blood ran cold. "You killed Acacia."
Acacia. I did. I killed my ally. My friend. A girl I'd fought to protect, when I'd only ever wanted to be protected. "Yeah… yes. Yes I did." His voice cracked and he looked down at the dirt underneath his shoe. That was what Marshall was. Mud under someone's sole.
"I killed Vallah."
W-What? Marshall looked up into Cillian's eyes. He thought it was a trick. A lie. Some awful scheme. But looking into the frightened, broken eyes of the normal boy before him, told Marshall that his last remaining friend was dead.
He really was all alone.
"I guess we both did what we had to do."
Cillian's face darkened. For the first time in maybe forever, something came upon Cillian. The idea of killing Vallah maybe had changed him. Maybe had done something that he'd refused to accept and now was forced to.
"There's a difference."
"A difference?"
Cillian's entire body was trembling. Marshall's was too. He didn't want to think about Acacia. Or Vallah. Or even himself. No one. None of it mattered. He wanted to go home. He wanted to waste away and live his life the way it was supposed to be lived. Nothing but a cockroach in the darkness, scuttling on tiny legs and plaguing the world with its existence.
At least he'd be alive.
"I killed someone that attacked my allies. I defended my friends." Cillian met Marshall's eyes. Marshall felt something breaking in his chest. Something dark and angry. Something scared. "That little girl. She was… she was hurt all over. On the floor. She was dying already. I killed someone to save my friends. You killed a little, innocent girl. There is a difference."
No. No. I did a bad thing, but not the wrong thing. "She had to die!"
"No she didn't!" Cillian shouted.
He didn't see. What was with these people not understanding that everyone had to be killed so they could live? Everyone was lying to themselves. Everyone believing in something that was impossible.
Marshall and Cillian were stepping forwards, bridging the gap between them without even knowing. The weight of their actions, the idea of killing someone, pulled their emotions from the deepest and darkest corners of their mind and drove them into something neither could step away from.
"If you don't think she should have died," Marshall spat, shaking with fear and anger and sadness, "then you won't live. You won't survive."
"Better to die someone that fought for his friends than kill one of them."
Marshall shouted, putting everything into the noise as he grabbed Cillian by the neck and hoisted him in the air. Cillian started to shake as his warm eyes met Marshall's. He thrashed and shook as Marshall started to cry, sobs drowning out the angry shouts until his knees were knocking together.
"I'm doing what I have to do!" Marshall sobbed. "I'm doing what someone who wants to win has to do…!"
Cillian spluttered as he shook under Marshall's firm hand, wrapped round his throat. "I…I don't want…to win…"
"Then you need to die."
Cillian shook his head. "I want them to win."
"Them?"
Cillian started to go still. "My friends."
"Friends don't exist. Not anymore."
The life left Cillian's eyes, one single shudder and the boy from Three died.
Marshall dropped him and ran. The cannon chased after him in the wake of his actions, until Marshall fell in a heap on the ground and clawed his way into the shadows.
What am I….? What am I?!
He was a monster.
The day was coming to an end.
Eveny looked up at the starless sky as the Capitol seal was broadcast where the moon had once been. She brought her knees up to her chin and fell back against a beam of wood, somewhere closer to the shore, but not too close.
The first face made Eveny cry out. She slapped a hand round her mouth and looked down at the ground. Her nails went through clumps of dirt as Cillian's face went round and round her mind. Cillian… he's dead… She had always been close to her allies. Eveny had never been the type of person who would ever not make the effort of trying to find something good in everyone. The thing with Cillian, it wasn't difficult.
It would be harder to find anything bad. He was just a normal, friendly boy. And now he was dead.
She watched Adrina's face appear. Then Vallah, the girl Cillian had killed, and finally Acacia, a girl that had been at the forefront of a plan that had fallen apart. The tomb was still out there. That reward waiting to be collected. But Vallah's body had gone with the transition of the tributes, moving to and fro between the Arena. Now, all she had was a distant memory of what had been an awful thing to do, but had been necessary.
As cold winds contested with the burning fire and smoke clotting the air, Eveny let her back fall further down onto the ground until her head was nestled against her backpack. She was tucked up, away from sight, underneath the ruins of a house that overlooked the water.
She thought of Cillian's smiling face. She thought of his face as he drew his knife along Vallah's throat. How he had stood up, smiled at Rell, and moved out of the door. Barely a scratch on the surface.
She then thought of Rell.
The worst part was, as Eveny thought of her alliance that had fallen apart, she realised there was no desire to find her friend from Three. Eveny had knew this time would come. It was part of the same drive that had made Eveny suggest targeting the weakest and easiest kill in the Games.
Eveny had made promises in her life. Promises that she'd never broken. The idea of winning the Games had been a promise she'd made to her friends. And the fact they'd made a vow never to hate her for what she had to do in the Arena…
It helped Eveny close her eyes tight, think of her alliance, her friends, those she loved within this Arena, and let them go.
Eveny was a tribute without an alliance. Everyone had been alone and given the choice between finding someone or realising what the Gamemakers had now done. The decision was simple. As guilty as she might feel come the future, it was now Eveny and Eveny alone.
The path to victory had now been paved.
It was a road Eveny was willing to take; a road she was prepared to walk, without her alliance.
Eveny would do whatever it took to win, and now, the Gamemakers had made it easier.
She only had to look out for herself.
Everyone else had to die.
Adrina Lear, District Six Female.
Cillian Garnier, District Three Male.
Aspect. Literally, I think I have something wrong when it comes to your tributes. I adore them but I always worry that I'm getting them wrong and panic. I'm not sure if that's the case this time, but as much as I did love Adrina, I kind of feel guilty I never got her down quite right. That didn't change the fact that I enjoyed the time she spent in this story. With Lucas. With Ryon. And with herself. She was a really fun character to work with, there was just nothing left for her to do in the Arena, which meant I had to make the hard decision to bring her story to an end. She'll be missed!
Bo. Cillian was a cutie. I agree with everyone that loved him for breaking the mold and becoming something different from his upbringing and wealth. The fact he was just a normal, everyday, friendly teenage boy who only wanted to be himself, well those are the kinds of tributes I really like. His alliance was a highlight of mine, and his personality was something I really got into when writing and saw something special in. It's a shame he had to go now, but likewise with everyone that now dies, there just wasn't anything left for him. Thanks for submitting him!
Yeah I caved. Check out my next SYOT which is published with all the info on my profile, submit if you can and want to, of course! :)
Anyway, speaking about this chapter, I go by the assumption that the Gamemakers can pretty much do whatever the hell they want with the trackers. They can inject all sorts of things into the tributes and yeah, basically the end of the hourglass resulted in everyone blacking out and the tributes being separated. Basically, it ties in with the title.
A lot of scenes this chapter, but they were necessary to build upon what's now happened.
The Arena is slowly changing too. The fire is spreading. The water is spreading. The moon was some kind of egg with three mutts that have now dropped down into the Arena. Not long to go now until the end of the Games, feels like they've only just started ;/ (Although I guess, in a way, they have. The bloodbath was posted not that long ago).
Thanks for reading!