Disclaimer: The Hunger Games is not mine.

Note: New poll on my profile. This time, since I know a lot of you reading this are also SYOT submitters, I'm curious about which gender/district you usually go for when you see an open SYOT.

Speaking of open SYOTs, since several people have asked, I might as well tell everyone: I am planning on writing a sequel. It will be the 10th Hunger Games, and submissions will open up after I post the next chapter. I'm doing open submissions this time. If you're not familiar with how that works, don't worry; I'll explain. The form and rules will be posted on my profile after the next chapter. I'm anxious to start the next story, too, but I promised myself I'd finish up the Games in this one first.

On that note, let's get a little closer to the end of the Games...

Day Five
Just Another Path

Vester Pierce
District Two Mentor

Vester knew he should be used to it by now.

He kicked another chair, but there was barely any force left in the blow. He wasn't even angry any more. He had been furious – at the President, at the Gamemakers, even at himself – but all of that had been drowned out by his grief. Now he was just tired. So tired.

Tears in his eyes, he wandered into the kitchen, eyeing a row of sharp knives. Turning away from them, he opened a cabinet. "Trouble sleeping," he mumbled to a nearby Avox, who pointed to a bottle of pills before scurrying off. Vester nodded and opened the bottle.

It hadn't been a lie. Of course he had trouble sleeping. They all did. The victors all shared a common horror. But none of the others could understand his guilt. Vester poured the contents of the bottle – perhaps two dozen pills – into his hand. Maybe now. Maybe now, he could finally sleep.

The punch came out of nowhere, striking him square in the jaw. Vester stumbled back, startled, as the pills flew out of his hand. Another blow to the chest knocked him back into the counter. "And just what do you think you're doing?"

Vester glared. The voice – and the fist – belonged to Lander. "Get out of here," Vester growled. "It's none of your business."

Lander shook his head. "Wrong. Wake up, Vester. You're a victor – the victor of the First Hunger Games. Whether you live or die is all of Panem's business."

"And they all know I should be dead," Vester agreed. He might as well admit it. The districts knew it – knew he was to blame for his part in creating the Hunger Games. Knew he had only won his Games with the Capitols' help, because he was their pawn. He had hoped to redeem himself by saving Kiona, but now they would blame him for her death, as well.

Lander shook his head. "No, no, no. That's too easy. Lots of people fought for the Capitol during the war, Vester. Hell, if I'd been old enough, I might have myself – not because they were right, but because they were going to win either way, and I like to be on the winning side. Who doesn't? You want all of them dead – all those people? You were, what, seventeen when the war ended? You were a kid."

"I was old enough. Old enough to fight. Old enough to kill."

"So everyone who killed during the war deserves to die? Everyone who's killed during the Games? That's gonna be a long list."

Vester looked away. It was a long list. But his name was at the top. Not because he'd killed, but because he'd enjoyed it. Relished it. The other victors – they, at least, were reluctant killers. Mags. Lander. Tania. All hesitant at first, reluctant to strike their first killing blow. But not him. He hadn't hesitated then. And he wouldn't hesitate now. He reached for a knife. Pressed the blade to his own chest.

"Coward," Lander spat. "What sort of chance do you think they have without you – the tributes your district will have next year? What sort of an example are you setting? Why should they fight to survive, if the very first victor doesn't even think living is worth it anymore?"

"Maybe they shouldn't fight," Vester conceded. "Maybe it's better if they die in the arena. If I had, maybe Kiona—"

Lander rolled his eyes. "She would still have died. So would Zione. It wasn't anything you or I did, or didn't do. It was them – both of them. They were too good. Too noble. Noble fools."

Vester turned the knife towards Lander. "They weren't fools. They—"

"Oh, yes, they were. Fools for thinking they could win, for not realizing their fate was written as soon as the Gamemakers learned who they were. And fools for fighting the Capitol in the first place. Nine years ago, you would have said the same thing. You would have killed them without a second thought. Who knows? Maybe you even killed their parents. A brother or sister."

"Maybe," Vester admitted. "But if they'd won—"

Lander took a step closer, ignoring the knife. "Get your nose out of your sleeping pills, Vester. Heroes don't win the Games. And that's your real problem. You always wanted to be a hero. A hero for the Capitol. And now a hero seeking redemption. Well, you're not. And I'm not. The difference between us is that at least I realize I'm a villain."

And, with that, he lunged at Vester.

Vester ducked, but Lander was ready. He hadn't been aiming for Vester's head. His target was the knife, which now clattered to the floor. Vester charged into the younger boy, and the pair of them tumbled out of the kitchen and into the next room, trading punches, rolling over each other.

Suddenly, Vester found himself on his back, with Lander's arm pressed against his throat. Coughing, he fought back, thrashing, but Lander held firm. His vision growing blurry, Vester managed to work his legs underneath Lander's chest. With one last burst of strength, he flung the younger boy off him and against the wall.

As Vester lay there on the floor, gasping for breath, Lander struggled to his feet, clapping. "Bravo," he nodded. "I was right."

"About what?" Vester spat. "That I'm a villain, too?"

Lander collapsed on the couch, shaking his head, his voice solemn when he spoke. "No. That, despite what you say, you want to live."

Vester stared for a moment, but then joined Lander on the couch, bruised and bloody, his lip swollen, his head spinning. "I suppose I do." He shook his head. "I wonder why."

Harakuise Swallot, 14
District Five Male

Harakuise knew he should be grateful.

Lying on his back next to the Cornucopia, staring up at the stars, he knew he was lucky to even be alive. Whoever had sent the medicine to Zione's alliance hadn't meant it to be for him. Zione certainly hadn't meant to save his life. None of them had meant for him to be alive now.

But he was.

He had thanked them for it. And he knew he should be thrilled to have a second chance. But, instead, he just felt tired. And he couldn't help thinking that, if he had died with Zione, at least he could have died happy, knowing he had taken down the last of the rebels in the arena. He had done what he had come to do. His job would have been over.

But now Zione was gone, and he was still here, watching the stars.

It was so rare to see stars in District Five. There were so many factories – too many lights and too much smoke, even in the best parts of the district, to see the sky clearly at night. But here, the darkness around him only brought out the lights even more. They were brighter, clearer.

Sort of like the Games.

Everything seemed clearer in the arena. Life, death. Fear, hope. The Games eliminated everything else – all the distractions – allowing them to focus solely on the most basic of truths: that life and death were so fragile, and that death, eventually, was certain. Maybe the only thing that was certain, in the end. Everything else was negotiable, but death … death was always there, waiting. Sometimes invisible, but always present.

Like the stars.

Harakuise smiled a little. He had thought – before the Games – that he was familiar with death. His brother and sister. His father. Every death he'd ever ordered. But death in the arena was of a different sort – so meaningless, so pointless, so empty.

His siblings' death had been tragic, but at least their deaths made sense – they had been casualties of war. His father, too, had died in the line of duty, doing his best to complete the task he had been given. The rebels whose deaths he had overseen back in Five – they had deserved it. As had Zione and Kiona.

But the others? The others who had died – Aldo and Equinox, his allies. Sher. Their deaths were meaningless. And those who would have to die in order for him to make it home – Ella and Brie and Sterling. To his surprise, he found that he didn't enjoy the thought of their deaths. He didn't look forward to killing them. Their deaths wouldn't serve any purpose – other than to ensure his survival.

It was such a waste.

Harakuise closed his eyes, letting the starlight fill his dreams. It was a waste, but it had to happen. They had to die. And they would. But not yet. Not now. He was too tired. They could wait until tomorrow.

Then he could make his last move.

Sterling Therms, 18
District Seven Male

Sterling knew he should be afraid.

Everyone was afraid to die, weren't they? As a small child during the rebellion, he'd been terrified. As he'd grown, with the Games ever-present in the background, after year after year of seeing children die, of course he was afraid. Afraid of hearing his name drawn, of dying alone in some corner of the arena, maybe ripped to shreds by mutts or skewered by a laughing tribute.

But he wasn't alone. And, to his surprise, he wasn't afraid. Just tired. So tired.

The sun was rising outside their cave as he opened his eyes. Brie was still sitting near the entrance, trying her best to keep herself awake. "Get some sleep," Sterling offered, struggling to sit up. "I'll keep watch."

Judging from her expression, she clearly knew he was in no condition to do any such thing. But she couldn't stay awake forever. "I suppose if someone was going to attack us, they would have done it during the night," she agreed reluctantly, joining him farther back in the cave.

Sterling nodded. The other tributes probably didn't even know where they were. And even if they were looking, there were a lot of caves. Chances were, they would be safe for a while.

Brie opened a pack of crackers, took a few for herself, and passed him the rest. They shared a bottle of water and a few pieces of dried fruit. Brie didn't seem concerned about rationing the food, and Sterling wasn't going to argue. There were only four of them left. Even if they lasted long enough to run out of food, chances were the Games would end – one way or the other – before they had time to starve to death. Better to keep up their strength now.

Not that he had much strength to keep up. Even the effort of moving to the front of the cave to keep watch while Brie slept left him drained of energy, and he had no doubt that, if someone did decide to attack, he wouldn't be much use in a fight. He wouldn't be able to protect Brie. He probably wouldn't even be able to defend himself.

But Sterling said nothing. At the very least, if he saw someone, he would be able to yell and wake Brie before being killed. It wasn't much, but it was something. If he couldn't save himself, he could at least try to warn her.

And, to his surprise, he found that the idea of saving her was enough. If he couldn't make it home to his daughter, then he would set a good example for her. He would be a good friend, a good ally. He would save a life, even if it wasn't his own.

And that was enough.

Ella Halliwell, 17
District Four Female

Ella knew she should just stay put.

Her best chance was to wait. Wait for the other tributes to come to her. Wait for them to kill each other off. But she was restless. It was dark inside the mountain. She missed the light. She missed the sun. She missed her trees.

It was around noon when Ella crept out of the mountain. She reached up towards one of the trees, waiting for it to bend down so that she could climb up into the branches. She was hungry, and maybe there were still birds' eggs up there. Maybe a squirrel had followed them.

But nothing happened.

She tried again, stretching as hard as she could, reaching for whatever power she had used before to make the trees obey her. But part of her already knew it wouldn't work. Before, it had been effortless. She hadn't even had to think about it. But now, as hard as she tried, as far as she reached, as much as she focused her thoughts, nothing happened.

Nothing.

She was alone.

Terrified, Ella sprinted back inside the cave – and she kept running. After a few moments, she saw something up ahead. A light. The other side of the mountain? No, it was too close for that – and the light was too red. Almost like a fire.

A fire inside a mountain.

Hesitantly, Ella ventured a little farther, the fire lighting her way. She knew she should probably turn back, but, for some reason she couldn't explain, it felt better this way. Safer. Warmer.

Finally, she came to a large opening at the center of the mountain. Looking up, she could see the sky through the opening, but below was even more amazing. Red, glowing fire swirled around deep inside the mountain, far below her feet. It was beautiful. Deadly. Fantastic.

She had never seen one up close, but Ella could remember three years ago, during the Games, the Gamemakers had had a word for this. Lava. She could remember it burning tributes alive as it flowed out of a mountain.

No, not a mountain. A volcano. That was what they had called it. A volcano.

Ella took a few hesitant steps closer to the edge. Smiling. Grinning. Almost laughing. Yes. Yes, this was where she would stay. Here, at the very edge, was where they would find her. Let them come if they wanted to. Let them come if they dared.

This was where she would make her last stand.

Brie Fallyn, 17
District Five Female

Brie knew she should still be on her guard.

Harakuise and Ella were both out there somewhere. Chances were, neither of them knew Sterling was injured, but if either of them happened to find the two of them, they might decide Sterling was the easiest target left, and if she tried to protect him…

No, not 'if.' When. Of course she would protect him. But for how long? There were four of them left. Only four. Three people had to die if she was going to go home. Three people still had to die if she was going to save Jai.

And Sterling was one of them.

Maybe it would be better if someone did attack. If someone else did kill him, so she wouldn't have to. She felt terrible for thinking it, and even worse when she turned to look at him, lying at the back of the cave, shaking and sweating and moaning in his sleep. Dying. Already dying.

"Brie." Sterling's voice was weak, but it still startled her. Immediately, she was at his side. His mouth moved again, but no words came out. Brie poured a sip of water into his mouth. Sterling swallowed, but she could tell that even that was beginning to be an effort for him. "Outside," he whispered.

Brie immediately whirled around. Who was outside? What was outside? What was coming to kill them? But Sterling shook his head. "Help me … outside."

"Why?" Did he want to take a turn keeping watch? She had slept earlier – not well, but it was something. "You'll be safer back here."

Sterling closed his eyes for a moment, gathering his strength. "Please. I don't want to die here … in the dark."

Brie could feel tears coming to her eyes. Swallowing hard, she blinked the tears away and helped Sterling to the front of the cave, where he lay down, exhausted from the effort of moving even a few yards. "Thank you," he whispered, gazing out at the light. The sun was beginning to set, the mountains casting deep shadows across the desert. It was almost beautiful. "Feels good … not to hide."

Brie nodded. She and Sterling had both spent their first few days in the arena wishing for a place to hide. She'd hated staying out in the open at the Cornucopia. Both of them had wanted to take refuge in the forest, or the caves, or anywhere safe. But now, it was as if none of that mattered. Those people – those children who had wanted to hide – would never leave the arena. They were already gone.

He was right. It felt good. No more hiding. No more hoping to go unnoticed forever. It felt good to be out in the open.

Out in the light.

"Brie." Sterling reached out and took her hand as she knelt by his side. "Can you … would you do something for me?"

Brie hesitated. What would he want her to do? Part of her was still terrified that he would ask her to kill him. Or, worse, leave him. But she found herself nodding, anyway. "Of course."

Sterling removed the doll from his pocket – the little rag doll that belonged to his daughter. "Take it," he said softly. "Make sure Bailey … gets it back. When you win."

Brie swallowed hard against the lump in her throat. He sounded so sure. So confident. "If I win," she corrected.

Sterling shook his head. "You will. You'll make it home. Save your brother. And tell Bailey … how much I love her. She's the best … the very best part of my life. And I hope…" His voice was weaker now, softer than a whisper. Brie leaned in close. "I hope she grows up … as brave as you."

Brie could feel the tears on her cheeks as she shook her head. "No. I hope she grows up as brave as you." She held his hand tightly.

Sterling smiled a little. "I love you, Bailey," he whispered, staring off into the distance as if he could actually see her. Then he closed his eyes.

For a while, they simply stayed there, Brie holding Sterling's hand as his breathing grew slower and slower. Finally, as night crept over the arena, he stopped shivering. Stopped gasping. Stopped fighting. Brie even thought, in the starlight, that she saw a smile on his face.

Then the cannon sounded.

"He deserved better than that."

Brie whirled around, startled, at the voice – a voice that she recognized immediately, though she couldn't see the speaker until he emerged from behind a rock. How long had he been standing there? Instinctively, she reached for her knife, but something made her hesitate. If he had wanted to attack her, why hadn't he done it? Why alert her first? "What do you want, Harakuise?"

Slowly, he took a step towards her. He drew his own knife, and Brie took a step back, ready for him to attack, but instead of rushing at her, the boy tossed his own knife into the cave.

"Five minutes," her district partner said, his voice grave. "I want five minutes. Keep your weapon out. Put it to my throat if you want to. But, please, just listen to me for five minutes."

"And then?"

Harakuise shrugged. "Then, if you want to, you can kill me. Or you can let me go. Or," he finished with the slightest hint of a smile, "we can help each other."

Hazel Birnam
District Seven Mentor

Hazel knew she should be in tears.

She had actually begun to hope that maybe this year would be different. Maybe Sterling had a chance. Maybe he would finally be the one to make it home. To his family. His sister. His daughter. She knew she should be grieving. She should be devastated, as she had been for the past five Games.

Instead, as she sat beside Tania in Alistern's bar, she simply felt tired. Tired of the Games. Tired of losing tributes. Tired of hoping, and having that hope destroyed.

Tania, on the other hand, was on the edge of her seat as her two tributes stood face-to-face, each armed – one with her dagger, the other with his words. Two of the three tributes left were hers. Pretty good odds.

It wasn't fair. Tania hadn't done anything she hadn't done. Brie hadn't done anything that Sterling hadn't done, as well. But she was alive, and he was dead. Because he'd saved her. Because he'd put her own life ahead of his own.

Because he'd been a hero.

"I hope Brie wins," Hazel said without thinking.

She wasn't sure why she said it. Maybe because Sterling would have wanted it. Clearly, Brie had been his second choice for victor, if it couldn't be him. Maybe because she was a hero, too – trying to save a life. Maybe because, just once, it would be good to see someone like that win.

"I hope so, too," Tania said quietly, but there was also something else in her voice as she watched the screen. Curiosity. There were only three tributes left. Surely Harakuise knew that any sort of alliance they formed now would only last until Ella was dead – that Brie would turn on him, and he on her, as soon as that cannon sounded, assuming one of them didn't die first. Surely he knew that.

So what was he planning?

Hazel silently hoped that Brie would kill him before he could convince her to listen.

"End? No, the journey doesn't end here. Death is just another path, one that we all must take."