Disclaimer: I don't own The Hunger Games.

Note: Yeah, I know I said two more chapters of the Games. But once I started writing this, there was no good place to split it up into two chapters, so ... here's the finale.

My apologies to anyone who might have been waiting one more chapter to vote in the poll - which is currently in a four-way tie at two votes apiece. (Which I'm rather proud of, to be honest. Usually, there's a favorite or two - or, at least, someone who's decidedly not a favorite.) If you like, you can pop over to my profile, vote, and then read the chapter. Or, I suppose, you could read the chapter and then tell me who you would have wanted as a Victor. Or ... whatever. I can't exactly stop you one way or the other.

Enjoy the finale.

Finale
Win

Benton Murphy, 51
District Seven Mentor

Only four tributes left.

Benton hopped down from his chair, his legs a little wobbly after his last few drinks. But he'd needed them. Clark had been so close. So close to coming back home. They'd all known from the start that Hatchet almost certainly wasn't coming back, but he'd really thought Clark had a chance. Now…

Now it was just him and Winnow. They would be coming back to the Capitol the next year. And the next. And the next, until they managed to bring home yet another Victor.

But he knew better than to complain about it. Most of the remaining Victors were in the same position – or worse. Only the Career districts had more than a handful of Victors, and even their numbers were dwindling now. Except for District Four. Both Cedra and Galen were still alive. It didn't seem fair.

Fair. Benton chuckled to himself as he reached up, snatching his drink from the table and downing what was left in one gulp. The Games were never fair. This year was no different. No different at all.

That's what they were all telling themselves, after all. It was what kept them from rebelling, as Rufus had wished. The idea that this wasn't really any worse than normal. And, objectively, it wasn't. Twenty-three dead tributes. Twenty so far. Three more to go. Just like any other year.

Benton swayed a little, stumbling towards the couches. One more step. Then another. Finally, he plopped down next to Barric, who nodded silently. Politely. As if their district's tributes hadn't just killed each other. "Sorry," Barric mumbled, his voice thick from drinking.

Benton nodded back. "Me, too." And he was. Not that Clark had gone after Aras – not really. Aras and Galen were the ones who had attacked the cornucopia. The ones who had forced a fight. But even they hadn't had much of a choice – not really. Not once they'd discovered that there was, in fact, someone at the cornucopia.

No, they couldn't blame the tributes for fighting – not when all of them had done the same thing. Well, nearly all of them. "Think either of them has a chance of tying your record this year?" Benton asked, propping his feet up on the couch beside him.

Barric shook his head. "My record?"

"Sure. Fewest kills in a Hunger Games. That would be a hoot, wouldn't it? The bloody Victor-to-Victor showdown … and a Victor with no kills?"

Barric smiled a little. "That would be something. But it's not going to happen. None of them are really trying to hide."

"Of course not. But they're so spread out, if three of them were driven together or something, they could very well kill each other, leaving the fourth one as the Victor."

"I'm sure they've thought of that."

"Are you?"

"Of course. The Gamemakers wouldn't have let them get so spread out if they didn't have some sort of way to drive them back together, would they?"

"Normally, no. But with the Games moving this fast … what if they're trying to draw things out a little by letting them separate? And what if it doesn't work quite the way they want it to?"

"What are you suggesting?"

Benton shrugged. "Absolutely nothing. There's nothing we can do about it, after all. And no reason we should care, really. Our tributes are all gone. No reason to fret over what's about to happen."

No reason. No reason he should be so anxious. And yet he was. Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe it was the fact that he'd come so close to bringing Clark home a second time, and yet failed. Maybe it was the realization that he still wasn't done mentoring – and probably wouldn't be for years. Whatever it was, the tension was beginning to bubble inside him. It was only a matter of time before it surfaced.

Benton leaned back against the pillow, shutting his eyes tightly. The room was finally starting to spin a little less. "Wake me when something happens, would you?"

"What?"

"They'll be wandering around those tunnels for hours," Benton shrugged. "If the Gamemakers were set on driving them together, they wouldn't have let Cedra and Freya split up without a fight – or leave the area around the cornucopia to begin with. Aside from the spiders, they haven't really shown any signs of wanting to herd anyone together, so … wake me when two of them finally find each other and something interesting happens."

Something interesting. The truth was, he didn't want to wait. Couldn't stand simply sitting around, doing nothing, drinking some more and pretending he didn't care what happened now that his tributes were gone. Sleeping seemed like a better way to pass the time.

But it was only a few moments before he felt something. Someone shaking his shoulder. Firmly – almost frantically. Benton opened his eyes to see Barric nodding towards the screen, eyes wide.

"Something's happening."

Valion Surge, 53
District Five

Something was happening.

Valion placed a hand on the wall, glancing around. Something was wrong. He couldn't see anything strange. But he could feel it. The feeling had reached his bare feet first, but now he could feel it in the walls. Some sort of humming vibrations, growing stronger with every second.

Something was very wrong.

Carefully, he took a step backwards. Then another. But it didn't help. The vibrations were everywhere – as if the entire cave was about to collapse. But they wouldn't do that … would they? If the entire arena collapsed, the four of them would die. They wouldn't have a Victor. They had to have their Victor.

Didn't they?

Valion clenched his fists. Even with everything that had already gone wrong this time around, they couldn't be that desperate. Whoever was left, there couldn't possibly be so few good choices for a Victor that the Gamemakers would resort to simply killing all of them. Sure, he didn't have any kills so far, but if the Gamemakers had wanted him dead, they could have killed him along with Shyanne. But they hadn't.

So what was going on?

Okay. Think. Just think. If the vibrations didn't mean the tunnel was about to collapse, then what else could they mean? Maybe something was about to burst through the walls. Some sort of mutt, perhaps? Or maybe only some of the walls were going to collapse. Maybe that was what the Gamemakers would use to drive the tributes together. That made sense.

But it would make more sense if there was some sort of direction. If the humming was coming from some specific place, then he could simply assume the Gamemakers wanted him to go the other way. But the vibrations were everywhere. And they were getting stronger.

Stronger. But he hadn't been able to feel all the vibrations at first. Only the ones in the ground. But what did that mean? Did they want him to get away from the ground? That didn't make any sense.

Did it?

No. No, the only way to get away from the ground was to climb. But there was nothing to climb. And nowhere to go. The ceiling of the cave was higher in some places, but, in this particular tunnel, it was only a few feet above his head. If something was about to happen, being a few feet above where he was now certainly wasn't going to do him any good.

So find somewhere with a higher ceiling.

Okay. At least that was something. Some sense of direction. But he had no way of knowing whether he was on the right track or not. And he hadn't been paying much attention to the height of the ceilings in the tunnels. It had never seemed particularly important.

Stupid. Everything in the Games was important. He should have known better. Should have been paying attention to everything – even details that seemed trivial. Valion glanced up at the ceiling, studying it for a moment. Trying to remember – but also to let the Gamemakers know that he was on the right track.

If he was on the right track.

Cedra Devere, 21
District Four

She definitely wasn't on the right track.

Cedra struck the wall with her rapier as she realized she'd hit a dead end. "Damn it," she muttered. She'd been so focused on getting away from Freya that she hadn't really thought twice about which direction she was running. She'd assumed that the Gamemakers would give her some sort of sign if she was going the wrong way.

Apparently, she'd been wrong.

Cursing quietly, Cedra turned around, ready to head back in the other direction. But something stopped her. Something behind her – a sound, coming from the wall she had just struck. Some sort of humming vibration, as if the rocks themselves were starting to shake.

Just then, there was a cracking noise in the wall. Cedra turned to run as rocks began to fall behind her. Faster. Faster. The walls, the floor, the ceiling – they were all beginning to crack.

Cedra gripped her rapier tighter. But that wasn't going to help her now. She couldn't fight the rocks that were falling. Just keep running. Surely the Gamemakers didn't want to actually kill them with the rockslide. Surely they were just trying to herd them together for the finale.

But they weren't exactly being careful about it. One rock, and then another, came dangerously close to hitting her. A small one clipped her shoulder. Cedra grunted in pain but kept running. What other option did she have? There was nowhere else to go but forward. Unless…

Suddenly, something came tumbling down from above her head. Cedra looked up, startled, as dozens of smaller rocks began to fall from the ceiling, revealing a hole – and, descending from that hole, a knotted rope. "Well, okay, then," Cedra muttered, tucking her rapier into her belt and grabbing hold of the first knot. Apparently, the Gamemakers didn't want to kill them, after all.

Unless it was a trap. Unless there was someone waiting to kill her once she reached the top. But what other choice was there? She couldn't outrun the rockslide forever. And, as she glanced around the tunnel ahead of her, she could see the rocks starting to fall there, as well. It was either up, or nothing.

And 'nothing' didn't sound like a particularly good option.

Galen Archer, 66
District Four

Doing nothing wouldn't be an option for much longer.

Galen brushed the tears from his eyes as he laid Aras' body gently by the mouth of the cornucopia, along with Aelin, Clark, Hadrian, Hatchet, Demetrius, Ira, Evo, and Irina. Nine of his fellow Victors. Nine of his friends – all gone. And he was still here. He was still alive.

But for how much longer?

Galen clutched his blade tightly – the fang-shaped blade that the sponsors had sent. His bow was useless now that Aelin had cut the string; there didn't seem to be enough to repair it, and there probably wouldn't be enough time. There was a part of him that even hoped there wouldn't be enough time. That, whichever way this was going to end, it would end soon.

Because the silence, the loneliness – it was worse than he'd imagined. Worse than it had been during his own Games, even after his allies were gone. Because he had only known those allies for a few days. Aras, Aelin, Hadrian, Hatchet – he had known them for years. He had laughed with them. Watched the Games with them. Waited anxiously as their tributes fought and killed and died. They had been with him through it all.

And now they were dead.

Galen leaned back against the cornucopia, trying to collect his wits. He hadn't realized how badly he was shaking. Now everything seemed to be shaking. Even the cornucopia. In fact—

Galen leapt to his feet. Everything was shaking. All around the chamber, the weapons and the rocks and even the bodies were trembling. Instinctively, Galen's gaze swept around the room. In every direction, rocks were starting to fall. Every direction except…

Except up. As quickly as he could, Galen scrambled on top of the cornucopia. All around him, rocks were starting to fall. Even the ceiling was beginning to collapse. It was only a matter of time before—

Just then, something caught his eye. Something dangling from the ceiling. A rope. A rope coming down from a hole high above his head. Tucking his blade into his pocket, Galen clutched the rope tightly, giving it a tug. It held. But what – or who – was on the other end?

There was only one way to find out.

Freya Basnett, 44
District Two

There was only one way to go now.

Freya gasped, dodging falling rocks as she raced forward through the tunnel. Rockslides barred every other path out of the tunnel; she had no choice but to keep pushing forward. But how long would it be before she hit a dead end? Or before the tunnel ahead started caving in on itself, as the tunnel behind her had?

But there was no time to think about that. No choice but to keep moving forward. Run or die – those were the only two choices. And she had come too far to die now. Too far to die like this – without a chance, without a fight. No. No, if she was going to die, she wasn't going to be killed by a pile of rocks. She had come too far for that. She was better than that.

She had always been better than that.

Suddenly, she caught a glimpse of something up ahead. A rope, hanging from the ceiling. And, already climbing that rope, a man. A tribute. Valion, she realized as she neared the bottom of the rope. Freya clutched her sword tightly. That rope seemed to be the only way out of the tunnels. Away from the walls that were quickly collapsing around her. But would she be able to catch up to him?

Did she have a choice?

Quickly, Freya let go of her sword. She couldn't climb with it, anyway, and she still had a few knives tucked in her pockets. She gripped the rope tightly and started to climb. Higher. Higher. Knot after knot. But Valion was almost to the top. All he would have to do was cut the rope, and she would fall back into the cavern – a cavern that was quickly filling with debris.

Then he disappeared – vanishing beyond the edge of the hole. Was it possible that he hadn't noticed her? Or maybe he simply didn't have anything to cut the rope with. Could he really have made it this far without a weapon? Freya pulled herself up a little more. Then a little more. Maybe she would get lucky. Maybe…

Finally, the top of the hole was within reach. One of her hands gripped the edge. Then the other. But, as soon as her head cleared the top of the hole, something struck her from behind. Blood splattered, and she nearly lost her grip. Everything was fuzzier. The rod – because now she could see that was, in fact, what it was – came swinging again, this time striking her in the face. But as Valion pulled the rod away, Freya reached out and grabbed it, clutching the rod as hard as she could.

She half-expected to pull Valion down into the cavern with her. And maybe that would have been enough – knowing that she had taken him with her. But he must have been stronger than he looked. Or maybe he simply had better leverage, because he managed to pull both the rod and her out of the hole.

But it didn't do her any good. She barely had time to reach for one of her knives before he swung again. And again. Blood filled her mouth. Her eyes. Pain – so much pain. Worse than she'd imagined.

She could only hope it would be over soon.

Valion Surge, 53
District Five

It was over soon enough.

Valion gasped as the cannon sounded, immediately collapsing back onto the ground, his rod covered in blood. Freya's blood. He hadn't even realized that she was there until he'd felt a tug on the rope below him. And, even then, he'd been too panicked to look down until he'd climbed safely out of the hole.

Now … now it was over. But the rest – the rest of the finale – it was just beginning. Valion sat up a little, taking in his new surroundings. It was a desert, but unlike any desert he'd ever seen. The sand was an odd burnt orange color, already stinging his hands and feet. The terrain seemed barren except for a small shack in the distance, and dozens of holes that pocketed the ground – each with a rope dipping down into them.

Maybe he could wait. Wait and see where the tributes were climbing up. But the holes stretched out as far as he could see. If the other tributes had been on the opposite side of the arena, they could pop up from a hole on the other side of the desert. No. No, the best move was to head for the shack. To hope that there was something there he could use.

And hope that no one had already made it there before him.

Slowly, Valion sifted through Freya's pockets, and managed to find a few knives. Then he got to his feet and headed for the shack, careful not to fall into any of the holes, glancing down a few of them to see if anyone was coming. As far as he could tell, no one was. Maybe none of them had made it to the ropes in time. Maybe it was only a matter of time before they were buried in the rocks. He hadn't heard any cannons – aside from Freya's – but there was still time.

Could he really get that lucky?

Cedra Devere, 21
District Four

Could she really get this lucky?

Cedra peeked out over the edge of the hole, glancing this way and that. There didn't appear to be anyone around. A cannon had sounded a few moments ago, but she hadn't had the time to stop and wonder whose it might be. All her attention had been focused on climbing. Her arms ached. Her eyes ached at the sight of the sunlight after so many days in the dark. The light was dim – early morning, maybe – but it still seemed terribly bright.

And it was only going to get brighter.

Unless, of course, it was a sunset instead of a sunrise. Whichever it was, it was coloring the desert an odd shade of burnt orange. Unless, of course, the sand was naturally that color. Sand. She had never thought she'd be so happy to see sand again. But this wasn't a beach. There was no water in sight.

But she didn't need water. Not now. Not when she was so close to being able to go home. No, water wasn't the thing to worry about now. Her fellow tributes were. Two of them were left – somewhere.

But where?

Cedra looked around. Left. Right. Behind her. But there didn't seem to be anyone. In fact, she couldn't see anything except for a small shack off in the distance. Maybe that was where the others were. Maybe they had made it there before her. Maybe they were already busy fighting. Maybe they would just kill each other off. Maybe she could just wait here while they fought it out…

No. No, that was just wishful thinking. The Gamemakers wouldn't allow it – certainly not this time. There was only one way out of this – and that was to fight.

But to fight whom? That was the question she had been ignoring, focusing instead on where her opponents might be. Because unless the last cannon had been hers, Freya was still out there somewhere. Freya was one of the tributes she would have to fight. To kill.

Was she really ready for that?

Suddenly, she heard something. Breathing. And not too far away. But she couldn't quite pick out a direction. Before she could even think of running towards the sound, a head poked out of the ground a few hundred yards away. Then the rest of the body.

Galen.

Freya blinked in the early morning light, more startled than afraid. Galen certainly wasn't the person she'd been expecting. How had he managed to last this long? He saw her, too, and immediately scrambled to his feet. Any element of surprise she might have had was gone now.

But that didn't mean she didn't have an advantage. She knew who the other tribute was – as long as the last cannon hadn't been Freya's, of course. He probably had no idea. She took a step closer. "You, then."

Galen took a step closer, drawing a small, curved blade out of his pocket. "And you. It's good to see you, Cedra."

It almost sounded like he meant it. Maybe he did. Maybe he was glad that she'd made it this far. But that only meant that they might have to kill each other. Galen took another step closer.

"But you know what comes next."

Galen Archer, 66
District Four

"But you know what comes next."

Galen clutched his blade harder as the words left his mouth. Cedra stopped in her tracks, waiting. Maybe not quite believing what he'd just said. That he was ready to kill her.

But what was the alternative? Whoever was left, Cedra could almost certainly take care of on her own. She didn't need him. She had no reason to keep him alive. If he suggested working together – even long enough to take down the last tribute, whoever that might be – she would almost certainly stab him in the back before they could find whoever else remained—

"It's Freya," Cedra blurted out as he took another step.

Galen hesitated. "What?"

"The other tribute – it's Freya. Kill me now, and she's the one you'll have to fight. Do you really think you can take her alone?"

Galen raised an eyebrow. "Do you?"

"I don't know," Cedra admitted. "But we have a better chance together."

Galen shook his head, then asked the obvious question. "How do you know it's her?"

"I don't – not for sure. But we were working together, and there's only been one cannon since we split up. So unless the cannon was hers…"

So that was it. The real reason she didn't want to fight him now. Freya was her ally. If she killed him, she would be facing Freya. But if they killed Freya together, or if he killed Freya, then she would only have to kill him.

Only.

Galen nodded a little. "And after we kill Freya…"

"Then you know what happens next."

Good. So she wasn't planning to do anything stupid. She knew that, if it came down to the two of them, they would still have to fight.

Of course she did. She hadn't made it this far by being stupid or rebellious. If she had to kill him, then that was what she would do. Just like he was prepared to kill her.

Wasn't he?

Galen took a step closer, careful not to take his eyes off her weapon – just in case. "Any idea where she might be?"

Cedra nodded towards a small shack in the distance, well beyond the farthest holes. "That's where I'd go. Look for some sort of shelter – maybe a good place to set an ambush. Assuming she's not still in the tunnels, that is."

Galen shook his head. "If she's still in the tunnels, she's dead." He'd barely made it out before the rocks filled the tunnels. If Freya was down there, there would be a cannon soon.

Assuming Cedra was right. Assuming Freya was the one who was still alive. The only other tribute remaining. Galen glanced over at his district partner as the pair of them headed for the shack, careful to stay out of arm's reach. They might be working together now, but their fragile alliance couldn't last forever.

It was only a matter of time.

Valion Surge, 53
District Five

It was only a matter of time.

Valion turned his rod over in his hands, glancing out the window of the shack one more time. There was nothing there – no supplies, no weapons, nothing he could use. Maybe that shouldn't have been too much of a surprise. The Gamemakers wouldn't want to give too much of an advantage to the first tribute to arrive. If he'd had the time and the supplies to set up a proper trap, there wouldn't even be much of a fight.

And they wanted a fight.

So a fight was what they would get. The shack was made of wood – that was something. If he could find a way to light it, maybe he could burn it. But unless he could lure his opponents inside, what good would that do?

Think.

No weapons. He had no weapons – just the rod in his hands, the knives he'd taken from Freya, and whatever he might manage to pull from the walls of the shack. Maybe he could pry a few of the boards loose. There were nails in them; that was better than nothing.

Then he could see them – coming towards him across the desert. The other two tributes. Together. Shit. He'd been worried about facing one of the other two tributes, trying to catch one of them in a trap. But if the two of them were working together…

Just think.

As they drew closer, he could finally see who it was. Cedra and Galen. Two Careers. Did they really think it would take two Careers to kill him? Why hadn't they turned on each other yet? Unless…

Unless they didn't know it was him. How could they? And the tribute he had just killed – Freya – was also a Career. If they thought she was left – or even suspected that she might be – then that might be enough to justify staying together a little longer.

But if they knew it was just him…

Valion took a deep breath. It was stupid. But it was the only choice he had left. The two of them were getting closer every second. Soon, they would be able to see that it was him. But maybe that was a good thing. Maybe…

"Hello there!" he called.

Cedra Devere, 24
District Four

"Hello there!"

Cedra gasped as two realizations hit her at the exact same time. First, the voice definitely wasn't Freya's. The other tribute wasn't her ally. Wasn't even a Career. There was no reason to keep working with Galen. Her best chance was to turn on him now.

Second, there was a sharp, shooting pain in her back.

Galen. He'd made the connection a split second before she had. Realized that he didn't need her any more – or, at the very least, that she wouldn't need him. Cedra gasped as Galen took a step back, drawing his blade out of her back. Blood gushed out onto the sand as she collapsed, face-up, on the ground, her rapier still clutched tightly in her hand. But before she could even think about using it, Galen's wrist was around hers. Prying it from her grasp. "I'm sorry."

But he wasn't. Not really. He couldn't be. Because she would have done the same thing. Had been just about to do the same thing. He'd just been a little too quick.

Or she hadn't been quick enough.

Cedra gasped as everything started to grow dark. She had been hoping that this time would be different. That she would be good enough. Strong enough, fast enough, brave enough. But it hadn't been enough. She hadn't been enough.

She had never been enough.

Galen Archer, 66
District Four

Boom.

Galen flinched, grasping his own blade and Cedra's rapier tightly as the cannon sounded. Only one tribute left. Only one tribute stood between him and District Four.

And he knew exactly who it was. He knew the voice. He knew all of their voices. Valion wasn't the tribute he'd expected to find in the shack, but he probably wasn't the opponent Valion had been expecting, either. "Hello there yourself!" he called back, taking a step closer to the shack. Then another.

Valion still wasn't anywhere in sight. But that wasn't a surprise. Of course he wouldn't want to show himself. But if he had some sort of long-range weapon – some sort of bow or throwing spear – he would almost certainly have used it by now.

Almost certainly. Nothing was certain. Nothing except for the fact that, in a little while, only one of them would be alive. And he would have to be very careful if he wanted it to be him.

"That was pretty clever!" he called out. "Letting us know who you were. Gambling that we'd turn on each other if we knew it was you we were facing."

Valion finally appeared in the door of the shack, a rod in his hand. "To be quite honest, I was hoping she'd get a few licks in first."

Galen couldn't help a smirk. "Sorry to disappoint."

Valion chuckled a little. "Oh, I imagine we're both a bit of a disappointment right now. The Hunger Games to end all Hunger Games. The best of the best. And it comes down to two grandpas facing off in a desert." He shook his head. "Probably not quite the grand finale the audience was expecting."

"Probably not," Galen admitted. "But it seems just fine to me."

Galen took a step closer. Valion was stalling. Hell, they were both stalling. Both trying to catch their breaths after that ridiculous climb. Both trying to work up the courage to start the fight they both knew had to happen.

Galen took a deep breath. "Look, if this doesn't go my way … tell my family I love them."

"I will," Valion promised. "As long as you'll do the same."

Galen nodded. "It's a deal."

Valion managed a smile. "Then let's get this over with."

They both charged.

Valion Surge, 53
District Five

He only had one advantage.

Valion pressed the button on the end of his rod as he charged, shining the light directly in Galen's eyes. Galen slowed down a little, startled, but it wasn't enough. Valion swung the rod as Galen swung his rapier, each managing to dodge the other's blow.

But even as each prepared to swing again, the wind picked up, swirling the top layer of the strange, burnt orange sand. Startled, both of them backed up a little. But it was Galen who recovered first, swinging his rapier, barely missing Valion amid the storm of dust.

Valion took a step backwards as the dust swirled faster. It was obvious what the Gamemakers were trying to do. They clearly didn't think a finale between the two of them was exciting enough, so they were trying to spice it up a little bit. Maybe draw it out a little. But it was only a matter of time before…

Valion dodged Galen's next blow, diving towards his legs. If he could knock Galen off-guard in this wind, maybe he would have a better chance. But Galen sidestepped easily, and Valion barely had time to dodge his swing. Valion got to his feet as quickly as he could, coughing, trying to keep his eyes open despite the dust that was starting to sting them.

Was that what the Gamemakers were trying to do? Blind them? If so, it was working. He could barely see Galen amid the dust. But Galen didn't seem to be faring much better, staggering this way and that in the wind, swinging his rapier blindly, hoping to hit his mark.

Think.

Quickly, Valion dropped to his knees. Galen didn't seem to see. The wind was growing stronger. Louder – almost like the roar of a train. Valion dropped lower to the ground. He could barely see Galen anymore. Bue he kept crawling in the last direction he'd seen his opponent, hoping he was still there.

But was he?

Galen Archer, 66
District Four

Where was he?

Galen took a step backwards. Then another. Amid the blinding dust, he'd completely lost track of Valion. He clutched Cedra's rapier tightly. His opponent could be anywhere. Maybe it would be better to back up a little more. Try to get out of the storm. Get a better view of what was going on.

But there didn't seem to be any way out of the storm. If the Gamemakers had wanted them to avoid the storm, they would have given them more warning. No, there was no way out. But maybe…

In the eye of a hurricane there is quiet.

It was an old saying in District Four – and, from his experience, true. Whenever the worst storms hit the coast, there was always a period of calm in the center of the storm. This certainly wasn't a hurricane, but maybe the same thing was true about sandstorms. The winds certainly seemed to be circling a particular spot.

A spot Valion wouldn't think to go.

Galen turned as quickly as he could towards what he hoped was the eye of the storm. The winds were getting worse, and, finally, he couldn't manage to stay upright anymore. The wind tore the rapier form his hands. But he kept going. Crawling through the worst of the wind, until—

The eye. Suddenly, he broke through the wall of wind, and everything went still. Absolutely still. The storm still whirled around him, but he was safe. Safe for a moment. Galen staggered to his feet, staring up at the sky. All around him, the orange dust circled, but just above, the sky was a perfect blue.

But he couldn't stay here forever. Valion was still out there somewhere. And waiting out the storm here – that wasn't an option. He had to find his opponent. But where…?

Galen glanced this way and that, barely able to catch a glimpse of anything through the swirling dust. Then he saw Valion – or, at least, what he had to assume was Valion. A darker shape, hunkered down maybe twenty feet outside the eye, shielding his face from the storm. Waiting for it to pass.

But it wouldn't pass. Galen clutched his blade tightly – the only weapon he had left. But it would have to do.

He didn't have any other choice.

Galen took a deep breath. He would only get one chance. One chance to get this right. But that would have to be enough.

He charged out of the eye.

Valion Surge, 53
District Five

He would only have one chance.

Valion clutched his rod tightly with both hands as Galen approached. He couldn't see his opponent, but he could see his feet approaching. Which was good, because he'd lost track of Galen earlier. At now Valion knew where he was.

Valion ducked lower, trying to look like he was cowering away from the wind. And that was part of it. But he knew he wouldn't be able to wait this out. Galen was coming – and quickly. It was only a matter of time before…

Just as Galen's feet were almost on top of him, Valion sprung up. Galen swung. He swung. His rod connected with Galen's stomach just as Galen's blade grazed his shoulder. Valion swung again, this time hitting Galen's back, but Galen quickly ducked away from the blow, diving for Valion's legs.

Valion barely had time to leap out of the way – but, as he landed, the wind swept him off his feet. He managed to break his fall, but the rod went flying from his hands. Galen staggered towards him unsteadily, giving him time to reach for a knife.

But, to his surprise. Galen didn't swing. He fell. Threw himself on top of Valion, landing with an "Oof." Valion gasped, coughing amid the dust, struggling to wriggle free. But it was no good. Galen was too heavy. Something sliced deep into his neck. Over the wind, he was sure he heard two words. "I'm sorry."

Then the weight was gone. Galen stood up. Backed away. The wind was starting to die down. For a moment, Valion was sure he could see blue sky above him.

Then the cannon sounded.

Galen Archer, 66
District Four

Boom.

Galen staggered to his feet as the cannon sounded. The wind was dying down, leaving only the body in front of him. Valion's body, his blood staining the sand around him, spattered about by the wind. Galen took a step backwards as a voice echoed through the arena. "Ladies and Gentlemen! The Victor of the this year's Quarter Quell, Galen Archer of District Four!"

Galen took a deep breath. Those were the same words he had heard fifty years ago. He had survived then. And he was still alive. He swallowed hard.

He was still alive.

He was going to live.

Silently, he raised his blade towards the sky in a salute of sorts as the hovercraft descended. He could practically hear the audience cheering. Applauding their Victor. The Victor of Victors. Probably not the one they were expecting. Maybe not the one they were hoping for. But the one they had, nonetheless.

Galen gripped the rope ladder as it descended from the hovercraft. Two men were waiting to pull him in to safety. Once he was safely aboard, he collapsed onto the floor of the hovercraft, exhausted. Still, he couldn't help but smile.

He was alive. He had won. And he wasn't going to apologize for that.

Twenty-three other tributes were dead. And he was sorry about that. Sorry that Valion was dead. That Cedra was dead. That Aras and Jani and the others were dead. He was sorry for that.

But he wasn't sorry that he wasn't one of them. He wasn't sorry that he was alive. He was going home to his family. His daughters. His grandson.

And he would never be sorry for that.

"We'll win."

"Oh, will you? Well, maybe. Maybe you will win! But nobody wins for long. The wheel just keeps turning."