"We're wide awake now, our eyes are wide open

We're running this world, we're keeping it turning

We're living like giants, yeah giants

We're bigger than giants, we're giants, oh…"

~Giants (True Damage)

o0o

Ambrose Volta (14) District Five Tribute

1:00 pm

It's barely been two days since we've been landed in the Arena, and already, half of us are dead. Nine of us in the Bloodbath, Thorne the very same night, and then three cannons went off this morning… what are my chances of making it any farther than I already have? I've been living off the half-pound of dried fruit and liter of water I had found in my pack after the Bloodbath, but there's not anything else for me to gain substance from in this Arena. I'm out of food, out of water, and there's not much for me to do except pray for a Sponsor. Well, I could go and attack another Tribute for their supplies, but I don't have a single weapon on my, save for my own two hands.

Asher and Jordan are in this area of the Arena, this I know for sure. I saw both of them on my sprint here- and Lauren's alliance should be here as well.

Those three cannons, though…

I have no way of knowing who's alive and who's dead until tonight, and it's just past noon, based on the brightness of the blue lines of the Arena. That means I have to wait at least eight more hours until the death toll comes in.

I bite my lip. So who's left? Districts 1 and 2, surely, Careers always make it into late-Game. Then there's Lauren and the boy from 4, along with Asher and I from 5. Phoenix is still out there somewhere, Danielle is with Lauren, and Sash is still with the Career Pack. Jordan Wheaton from 9… Nat and Aveline are with Lauren as well, and that makes everyone.

But I heard three cannon shots, so that means three of the Tributes I'd just named are dead. But who?

Not any of the Careers, surely. Asher and Jordan are definite threats and probably wouldn't go down too easily. Mikail, though… Mikail and Phoenix, if I have to guess, are in the city. I didn't seem them coming towards the woods in the initial dash from the Cornucopia, and they haven't shown up since. I would have seen them, surely, given that I am based near the edge of the forest. Far enough away from the Cornucopia not to be spotted- though that means I cannot spot in return- but still at a good vantage point to survey the edge of the forest.

So Phoenix and Mikail could very well be dead by the hands of the Careers… or Lauren's alliance has been parred down. Significantly.

Earlier, I'd heard the unmistakable sound of a light cycle roaring to life, but I'd been too busy setting a snare to go and check. The sound was faint enough in the distance that it had to be just one, so it couldn't be the Careers, either going or coming back from a hunt. They always go after other, weaker Tributes in a pack- probably not to take any chances. Smart, but usually unnecessary.

That light cycle noise had told me something though. Either someone new had just entered the forest, or someone had just gotten out.

But if Phoenix and Mikail are dead, that doesn't make any sense for someone to be coming into this area of the Arena alone.

On the other hand… if three of Lauren's alliance was killed, then it would only make sense for the survivor to try and make a break for it- especially if all, or even just four- of the Careers were there, provided she keep a safe distance away from the Cornucopia and whatever might be lurking there, or whatever traps the Pack might have set up.

Speaking of lurking… there hasn't been a sign of the metallic wolf who'd made its vicious debut at the Bloodbath. I'm getting quite worried about where it's wandered off too. Perhaps the Gamemakers have called it back, because of all the bloodshed that's going on.

I'm not sure if that's a good thing.

Back to the other human beings in the Arena though… if someone did make their escape, I would much instead not be stuck in this place with a scythe-wielding muscle-man and a probably insane Wolfchild.

It's high time I book it out of here. Plus, I could use the practice on the light cycle.

...

The city, when I reach it, is massive. A sprawling metropolis, looming towers, and unending lines. So this is my new home. There are more than enough hiding places- back alleys, doorways, shadowed streets. Not unlike the roads back home. I'll fit right in here.

Unfortunately, if Asher Foster ever decides to check this place out, he will be too. Even more so. All I can do is hope, I suppose.

I dismount, swinging my leg off the light cycle, and it shrinks into a baton again, clattering to the ground. I bend down and scoop it up. I glance around- catalog each and every building, the visible entryways from the street- and settle on the structure directly in front of me. No windows, one visible door- although there could very well be a side entrance or a back door that I haven't seen yet. I'm going to have to be careful.

Moving on swift, padding feet, I approach the doorway. I don't have a weapon- I have to rely on stealth and my own wits to get me out of any problems I face- and pray I don't face any at all.

Edging inside, I peek around the corner. Do a quick scan of the room. There doesn't seem to be anything in here- nothing that's actively moving, at least. There's a lump in the far corner of the room, though- too far in shadow for me to make out what exactly it is. A body? No- a hovercraft would have come to get it, surely. And the only cannons I heard were at least an hour ago. Either the killer is still somewhere nearby, preventing the hovercraft from taking the body, or that lump isn't a corpse at all. A person or something else- I don't know.

I steel my nerves and step further into the room. As I do, a flash of white catches my eye- pure, white light- coming from the lump in the corner. None of the Tributes have white suits, do they? I run through the list- none of the Careers do, and Phoenix is dark red. Mikail is some shade of green. But the packs and weapons at the Cornucopia- they were white.

Excitement builds in my chest as I rush over, and tug the bag open. Indeed, the glow fades from white into my own orange as soon as my fingers brush over the surface.

To my delight, it contains more water, a pound of jerky, and a knife.

A knife.

Small, easily concealed, and sharp as a razor blade.

The sound of a footstep causes me to whirl about. Knife in hand, ready to fight.

Instead of Phoenix, or Mikail, or a mutt of the Arena, it's Lauren Silver who steps out of the shadows of the ramp that spirals upwards. She must've come from the second floor. Stupid. I should've spent less time fawning over my new weapon and more time exploring.

"What do you want?" I demand, adjusting my grip on the knife.

"Ambrose." Lauren sounds tired, and as I look closer, I can see the blood on her, where cuts have already begun to scab over on her legs, her arms, her face. "I don't want to fight you."

Indeed- while I'm still tensed in a ready crouch, Lauren simply stands there, one arm braced against the wall. Not to affect an air of casualness, I realize, but to simply support her weight.

"What do you want then?" I hedge. Lauren doesn't seem like one to deceive, not to me, at least, but that still doesn't mean I can fully trust her. These are the Hunger Games- you can't trust anybody.

The other girl manages a halfhearted, one-shouldered shrug. "Danielle, Natalia, and Aveline are dead." Her voice is flat, with little to no inflection, but silver is lining her eyes. "And Phoenix, as well as Mikail, are in the city."

Lauren holds out a hand- nails chipped and torn, with dried blood coating the pads of more than one finger. "I think there is strength in numbers, and two against one is better than the thought of facing death alone."

I narrow my eyes at her. "You want me for an ally?"

She shrugs. "I want a lot of things. But yes, Ambrose. I'm offering an alliance."

o0o

Sash Radcliffe (16) District Eight Tribute

2:00

While there is still tension between the five of us as we move about the Cornucopia, there's an atmosphere of calm that rests around our little base. After Aegis and Halliday had clashed over Lauren's escape, things had gotten very, very quiet. Both of them went their separate directions for a while- Aegis messing around inside the Cornucopia, and Halliday taking her light cycle to the Spiral Course and just driving around for a while. When she returned, both of them seemed to have significantly calmed down, and although neither of them apologized to the other, there seemed to be a mutual sense of understanding between them. For now, anyway.

Aegis, now sitting cross-legged in the mouth of the Cornucopia, is skinning a rabbit that had been unlucky enough to wander out of the forest and into the range of Athena's longbow. A clean shot, straight through the eye, had killed it in an instant. I didn't even know that there were animals in the Arena, but, even if the forest looks unnatural, I guess there's gotta be some sort of huntable food living in there somewhere. The District 2 boy doesn't even flinch at the blood on his hands, looking perfectly natural as he pulls out organs and deposits them in a neat pile at his feet. Thames, however, pulls a face as he approaches. Doesn't comment though, only sits down next to him and leans over to whisper something in his ear. Aegis arches a dark eyebrow in response. He sets down the half-gutted rabbit and turns to face Thames, cocking his head to the side as if to say, go on, I'm listening.

I know better than to listen in on the two of them, and Thames doesn't seem like one to plot a betrayal. He's not one for strategic planning. Also, he fell out of a tree.

A few yards off, Halliday is sitting back, leaning on her hands and talking with Athena, the former's long, chocolate brown hair pulled back in a sharp braid. Athena throws back her head and laughs at something the other girl said, and Halliday soon joins her, smiling.

I can't help the slight pang in my heart as I watch Aegis lean over to gently brush his lips across Thames'. Can't help the ache in my chest as Athena says something else that sends Halliday into a fit of giggles.

I don't know if I've ever felt as alone as I do in this moment. I'd gone as far as I could on my life path alone. I'd learned how to walk alone, how to carry others, how to cope with and solve my problems alone. What remained was a form of loneliness that required a lover to solve- the need for physical closeness, for touch and emotional warmth from a partner in life.

Rollag solved that. He completed me, fit the broken edges of us together to make a single, beating heart. When he was with me, the pain stopped. He was my medicine, the pain ebbing at the first sight of him. He put chains around my demons, and he was the first to ever be able to do so.

I fell for him harder than a slip on black ice; he was- and is- kind and funny, never failing to bring a smile to my face and a blood blush to my skin. Friends flocked to him like he was the only light in the room, hanging onto his every lyrical word, buying him drinks, slapping him on the back. I was smitten long before I knew, much less acknowledged the feelings, but found that I wanted to get to know the man behind the smiles and punch lines.

So I learned how to play the bass guitar for him- for Rollag, with his melodic voice and sea-storm eyes. Learned and laughed, fell in love, and began to remember how to live.

But here, alone and in the Arena with a death sentence hanging over my head and the imminent knowledge that I will be sent home in a coffin, I am once again at a plateau, neither suffering nor truly in comfort, a sort of emotional-limbo. I guess you could call me lonely.

Not alone, no, because there are eleven people left in this Arena and I am surrounded my four of them. But lonely, yes. Lonely, because I miss Rollag and the band and District 8 more than anything in Panem, and there's nothing I'd like more than to see them all again.

And it's been a fact- an unavoidable certainty that squats in the darkest corners of my mind ever since my name was called at the Reaping- that I won't make it out of this alive.

There are four people who were trained to kill sitting around me, and while they may be smiling now, they are just as capable as walking away from a mutilated body with blood dripping from their hands.

That mutilated body could be mine.

My head is swimming with half-formed regrets- that there is no more time on my ever-ticking clock, and there is no way to get it back. My heart feels as if my blood has become tar and struggles to keep a steady beat. These aren't healthy thoughts to have, I know.

Anxiety, depression, and the grief that comes with them aren't all that uncommon visitors who come knocking on my mind's door. Or, well, they barge in instead. Say fuck the door and break it down. They rampage around inside my thoughts and my head and send me spiraling before I find some source of blinding light to drive them away.

Lately, that light has been Rollag, and music, and the band, but they're not here. They're not in the Arena, and some part of me, twisted and sick and horrible, wishes they were, so there were other people to share in my suffering.

But that's not who I am, not really. That's not what I really want, and I'm thankful to whatever fate was responsible for my name coming out of the jar and not any of theirs.

Even if the thread of my life comes to a halt here, the weft and weave of fate spin wondrous tapestries, and I can only hope my color shines out as vibrant as the rest.

o0o

Killian Doppelmen (16) District Six Tribute

3:00

The dagger that falls from the sky in a silver parachute is a gift. A gift of angels, a gift of demons, of darkness and beauty. A sly, twisted thing, with no guard- little more than a warped piece of metal. Perfect for sliding between the ribs, or into a heart, or into the chinks between armor. This is the weapon of an assassin, of a virtuoso at work, painting beautiful masterpieces in the crimson color of blood.

I will put it to good use.

With this knife as my paintbrush, I will create works of artistic brutality, and use my talent to send the message of terror deep into the hearts of the onlookers.

Just as there is blood in the heavens, there will be blood on the earth.

There are the Hunger Games, and there is nowhere to hide.

Thirteen are dead, and eleven of us are left to play the Game. And while the Careers may have their training, and others may have their wit and brains and brawn, I have inspiration. I am an artist, and I will paint this Arena in brilliant sanguine colors. The others… they lack the imagination, the genius that I have that will make them shine out among this filth and muck.. It is only through my actions that they will be remembered. They will be poetry. They will be beautiful.

The storm is in their hearts, and I will calm them.

Phoenix and Arianna cringe away at the sight of blood, while I revel in it. The two of them fear death when to me, it is the most important moment of life, and I will do everything in my power to make it spectacular.

It is why I am the one who will thrive and bloom in this carnage, like a flower in the dawn, and they will wilt away in their cages made of iron and salt.

It is why I have been let out of my cave of demons and war-torn monsters, and am here and performing instead of them.

This stage is below me, but I shall elevate it- I shall raise it up to the level of my talent and make everyone in this Arena perform for me.

They are simply husks- backup dancers, vessels for a greater good to shine through, to be displayed through their bloodied and battered and beautiful bodies. And I am the one who is meant to prepare them for such divine intervention.

One day, others may see the beauty that I have found in the angle of a broken neck, in the savage, intrinsic loveliness in a spray of blood. One day… but until then, I must continue to show the world the beauty that I see.

I have kept watch for the past three hours, and I have not missed the silver trail of light that signifies a new arrival, and the orange that follows not two hours later.

We have two more guest performers, I suppose. Two more sopranos in this opera of smiles and screams, who will sing to my tune and bleed for the crowd.

There are people who might call my artwork atrocious, others would call it sadistic. Others still might call it perverted, for the ways that I have posthumously considered arranging the bodies. Someday, my genius will be understood. For now, though, I am content to wait in the shadows. Wait behind the curtains, and work my magic from behind the scenes. They will dance, they will scream, and they will be instruments of sacrosanct transcention. And here, this place, Arena, is a canvas simply waiting to be decorated with my artwork, and only I know where the next brushstroke will fall.

I am a composer at work, and I will stun the audience with the truth and loveliness of my operas.

I would call myself enslaved to this passion- because there is nothing more morbidly fascinating than the art of dragging a knife along someone's neck. There is no better rush then the moment before the death blow, no higher ecstasy then the surge of adrenaline after a body falls limp at my feet. With my technique, killing shall blossom into artwork! It compels me, drives me to places never before discovered, where perfection is no longer good enough and it is only the work that matters.

I saw the way some of the other Tributes have looked at me- during my interview, or before the gong sounded. They looked at me, and their eyes told me we were on the same page.

I can only hope the other ten people in this Arena are reading the same book. Because otherwise… if the other ten of us are not reading on the same page, dancing on the same blade of grass, then I must take this blade, this shadow-wrapped gift, and slide it across their throats. But who wants that? Who wants that, except the audience, who loves the sight of blood, and blood runs red for all of us. If that is so… if that is so, then each death is for the betterment of the performance, of the show, the dance, and therefore…

Therefore, they all must die!

o0o

Sash Radcliffe (16) District Eight Tribute

4:00

Getting out of my momentary slump was a bit harder than I thought it would be. Normally, I would have my bass with me, and I could simply play my feelings out on that, the low, ever-deepening tones of the instrument overwhelming me and washing away my pain and sorrow. Now, however, I have no such option. There's not really anything I can use for target practice, except perhaps the other four people sitting around me, and I'm not even going to begin to think about how stupid that would be. I might get one kill in. One kill, before Halliday had a knife through my throat or Thames impaled me on his spear. I'm not close enough to Aegis for him to do any real damage to me after the initial shot. I'm also not stupid enough to not take out Athena- she's the only other Career with a weapon designed for range.

I don't even know why I'm considering this. It's guaranteed suicide.

… on second thought, it makes perfect sense why the idea sticks in my mind.

Maybe as a last resort. This alliance isn't going to last long anyway- not with so much tension in the air and with the ease Halliday and Aegis went for each other's throats earlier. Even if it was only with words. It's not going to be long before blood is spilled at the Cornucopia.

I should start making an escape plan. My stomach turns at the thought that I've been with the Careers- the Careers- for this long in the Arena, when there are eleven dead and the vast majority of their blood on our hands. I'm so, so sorry, Rollag. I did what was necessary, but it's not going to be enough, and I have betrayed you and I'm sorry.

If multiple people die, I could always get an arrow into the fray and escape in the chaos on my light cycle. On the off chance that I do move fast enough to execute the plan, I could be out of potential range in a matter of seconds. The odds aren't in my favor, though, and while my skill with the longbow has proven beneficiary over the last 24 hours, it marks me as a top-priority target for the others. My ability to snipe them off from afar, before they even know what hit them makes me more dangerous than even Aegis. And that's saying a lot.

I could always revert to the original idea- to just find a perch and start shooting, especially if the others are more preoccupied- but I know it's not just going to be that easy to scramble up the Cornucopia, put an arrow to the string, and shoot someone dead.

I'm a killer now, and there's nothing I can do to change that. I had that momentary crisis last night, and I have come to terms with it. More or less. If I'm going to get out of here alive, which is still my ultimate, despite unreachable, goal. If I add another name to the list, as Thames said before… I will find ways to condone and forget, and bury the memory under all the good times with Rollag that will unroll before us when I step off the train and back onto the soil of District 8. Step off the train, and into his waiting arms.

Even if I am a murderer… Rollag will accept me for who I am, how he always has, how he promised to since day one. We might have our ups and downs and hills and mountains and valleys along the way, but we will hold and carry each other through each and every one. Adding another name to my kill list won't change anything.

Except it will change everything.

It will change everything because I don't know if I can bring myself to kill any of these people. Kill Halliday, with her brilliant smile and witty remarks and shining eyes. To kill Thames- the golden-eyed boy who has begun to learn to wear his scars with pride and honor, every curve and bump and line. Aegis- no, I can't end Aegis' life. Even if he seems like a by-the-book Career on the outside, he has a kind heart, and a warm laugh, and loves Thames more than the sun and stars. Killing Athena means taking down the other marksman- markswoman?- in our small band of allies, and there's a sort of unwritten rule that we stay together. And so, I am at an impasse- if I can't work up the will to kill one of them, there's almost no way I myself get out alive.

I refuse to give up hope so easily. Not when I have so much waiting for me back home- a group of loving, caring, talented friends, an adoring boyfriend who means more to me than the world, and so many others who look up to us and what we do. We are a beacon of light, in this darkened world. We can't let ourselves be extinguished.

"Going hunting tonight?" Aegis' voice snaps me out of my momentary, metaphorical bubble as he hops down from the Cornucopia. I glance towards him, before stringing my bow and getting to my feet. Halliday joins me from where she was roasting the rabbit Aegis had previously been pulling apart, and Athena jogs over alongside her. Thames pokes his head out of the Cornucopia, before scrambling out, retractable spear in hand, and his baton clipped to a belt, slung low around his hips.

"I'd be up for it." Halliday tugs her hair over one shoulder, a rope of sleek chocolate-brown. "We should wait until the lights dim, even with our cloaks, but I'd be up for it."

I, personally, do no not want to go hunting, but I can't afford to say anything like that aloud. I can't let them doubt me. "How do we want to split up?" I ask instead, and my stomach flips over. Please don't make me go with Aegis. He's too bloodthirsty for his own good, from what I've seen of him in battle, and I don't think I can take being responsible for another kid being sent home in a coffin.

"Thames and I can take one part of the forest while Sash and Athena take the other," Aegis says, after a moment of deliberation. "Halliday? Do you mind staying back at the Cornucopia to keep watch?"

Oh thank god, is the first thing that floods through my head, but that comes to an abrupt, screeching halt when I see the look in Halliday's emerald eyes. She opens her mouth, and I can only think, shit. This isn't gonna end well.

Seems like those plans I made might have to come into action sooner than I'd intended.

o0o

Athena Shier (18) District Two Tribute

4:30

The end of everything began with a normal question- or, at least, as normal of a question that a Career tribute can ask.

"Going hunting tonight?" Aegis had called across from his perch atop the Cornucopia. Sash looked up from where he's restringing his bow, eyebrows high. Halliday stood from where she was cooking the rabbit over a fire that Thames had struck up without too much difficulty.

"I'd be up for it," she agreed. "We should wait until the lights dim, even with our cloaks, but I'd be up for it."

"How do we want to split up?" That was Sash, joining us by the horn of plenty, bow in hand, and quiver over his shoulder.

Aegis had tipped his head to the side, lips pursed in thought. "Thames and I can take one part of the forest while Sash and Athena take another," he suggests. "Halliday? Do you mind staying back at the Cornucopia to keep watch?"

The plan sounds perfectly fine to me. Sash is a good shot, and he's fun to talk too. I wouldn't have a problem hunting with him, and Aegis and Thames are a dynamic fighting pair. You'd think the two of them had been around each other for years with the fluidity and ease of their combat styles.

The plan, evidently, does not sound perfectly fine to Halliday.

Her green eyes narrow, lips thinning into a line. "I'm not sure I follow."

Sash's eyebrows pull together. It's not a very flattering look on him. "Halliday, what do you mean?"

Halliday waves a hand at Aegis and Thames. "I mean that your plan makes absolutely no strategic sense!"

Aegis tips his head to the side. "Alright, now I'm not sure I know what you mean."

Halliday's voice is flatter and colder than a sheet of ice as she says, "I don't think you or Thames are pulling your weight here."

Thames steps forward at that. Hand on his spear. "Halliday, Age and I both have three kills so far. He's responsible for a third of the Bloodbath. I think he's pulling his weight well enough."

"Not the killing, stupid," Halliday snorts. "Just this. In general." She makes a gesture, meant to encompass the whole group. "The two of you obviously favor each other, and that's great, but you should remember that there are three other people in this alliance who want to survive too and that you also can't spend every waking moment of every day together."

"That's not-" Aegis runs an agitated hand through his hair. "-Halliday, that's not how this works."

"Yeah?" She folds her arms. "The way we're splitting up makes absolutely no sense, Aegis. You want me to stay behind and guard the Cornucopia, while you send our two archers off together just so you and Thames can sneak off and grope each other against a tree?" A snort, a shake of the head. "Not gonna fly."

A flush works it's way up Aegis' face and the back of his neck, but he stands firm against Halliday's onslaught. "We want to go home just as much as you do, Halliday," he says, his voice remaining level. His eyes, however, tell a different story- dark storms are raging behind those midnight blue depths. "We might have a different idea of how to get there."

Halliday's scowl doesn't fade; if anything, her expression darkens. "I agreed to this alliance because I thought there would be some sort of strategy involved once things began wearing down to the wire." She shifts her weight- cocking her hip to the side. The movement also brings her hand in easy reach of one of her fighting knives- something that does not go unnoticed by any of the four of us. "Obviously, I was wrong."

This isn't going to end well. Beside me, Sash is as taught as one of our bowstrings when drawn back and prepared to make the shot. I reach back, surreptitiously gripping an arrow between my fingers and nocking it into my bow. Sash does the same beside me, and we exchange a careful glance. If this all goes to hell, we're going to need to stay together.

"I don't want this to end in bloodshed, Halliday," Thames says cautiously, moving to stand behind Aegis. His grip tightens around his spear, though, and it's clear that he's preparing for a fight.

"And I didn't want to be stuck with a bunch of morons." Halliday snipes.

"You don't have to stay with us," Aegis points out. "You can leave the alliance whenever you want. Just get on your light cycle and go; we won't stop you if there won't be blood spilled."

Halliday's nostrils flare. "Maybe I will." She makes a move towards the Cornucopia.

Faster than I can track, Aegis whips his sword free from its sheath, and flings his arm out- the blade an extension of his limb, and stops the girl in her tracks. "I never said to take our supplies," He says evenly. "We're still the Careers, Halliday, and if you're leaving, you're just another tribute we need to hunt down."

Halliday's expression is wavering between fury and incredulity- her brows drawn together and her eyes ablaze. Her hand flies to the hilt of one of her daggers. "What did you just say to me?" She snarls, and Aegis pulls the sword back, readies himself, gripping it in both hands.

"I said, you're just another tribute we need to hunt down."

Halliday fumbles for words at that, for a moment, but Athena steps in, her voice clear and sharp in the still air. "What if I leave with her? What happens then?"

Aegis doesn't miss a beat. "We still hold the majority. The Cornucopia is ours, and if you want it, you're going to have to claim it over our dead bodies."

"That's the plan," Halliday spits, unsheathing her knives.

Athena's hand on her arm is probably the only thing that keeps her from lunging at Aegis and trying to slit his throat. "What if Sash joins us?" She tries, one last time, casting a desperate glance at me.

I freeze. Me? She wants me as an ally… outside of the pack? It makes sense, and it also doesn't. Because I'm just some bassist from District 8 who can start and finish his own battles and knows how to shoot a bow and arrow. I've killed one person, over the course of these entire Games, and Aegis and Thames both have three kills to their names. And I only have one.

Then again, it's the unspoken code of conduct, and all the pressure is now on me.

Aegis' shoulders are loose, his face neutral as he says, "That's Sash's decision. If he does join you, though," those dark eyes narrow, and the look in them goes from feral rage to a frigid killing-calm. "If he does join you, and you decide to take the Cornucopia, there will be three more cannons sounding this night."

o0o

Jordan Wheaton (17) District Nine Tribute

5:00

The axe in my hand is heavy as I pull my arm back, preparing to split the block of wood in front of me.

The heart in my chest is heavier.

The axe falls, and the wood splits cleanly in two. Much like my heart during the interviews.

Although maybe that was more of a crack. A gradual shattering, and then one final too-hard tap and everything came falling down.

The last few days have been spent in a sort of haze- my heartbreak being a grief that comes in waves, grueling, stealing my appetite and sleep alive. It is a shard in my stomach, a heavy, twisting weight that never leaves, though sometimes the edges will dull. It feels like death just the same as bereavement and in quiet moments, it chokes the breath from my lungs. What was once whole and beating and alive is now shattered; where once was peace is emptiness, echoes of a promise and a seed of hope that was finally beginning to blossom under love's nurturing light.

I should never have said what I did during the interviews, and that guilt will gnaw at my fragmented heart for the rest of my dwindling lifespan.

Aaliyah… the worst thing that I ever did was what I did to you, my love.

I'm sorry. I'm so, sorry. And I can't tell her that in person. I don't know if I'm going to make it out of here alive, and if I do… I'm not going to be able to face her with blood on my hands. Stand before her as a liar and a thief and a murderer and still tell her I love her.

How would any girl react to that? Not well, I suppose.

But everything happened so, so fast. One moment I was burning under the spotlight, Tiberius's question ringing in my ears, and the next, I was bringing a dynasty crashing down on top of me, destroying any hope I had for a future with the only girl I have loved- the only girl I will ever loved.

Shame ripples through me, a gradual, burning tide. I really am pathetic, aren't I. Just some kid with muscles who wants to make his family proud and marry the most wondrous girl in the world.

And when she was finally within my reach, the possibilities endless and spiraling out before me, with the only thing standing between me and her a game of life and death that I swore to win… I let her go. I held her heart within the palm of my hand and crushed it with a few simple sentences.

Why has everything come to this?

It feels as if the very ground beneath my feet is unraveling and pulling me down into a darkened abyss where the demons of hopelessness and heartbreak will claw at me and sink their teeth into my flesh without remorse. Into a deep, unending pit where the only thing I will know is despair and my soul and heart and mind will be rended from each other. Where I will be shredded into oblivion.

I'm not sure if that's a bad thing.

Shouting and the sound of metal on metal draws my attention away from the devils of my own mind. A fight. I've never been one to actively leap into the fray, but… anything. Anything to get my mind off of this. This pain, this hole in my chest where my heart used to be.

I'm moving before I register what's happening. The trees become a blur around me, and I might me walking, might be running. It doesn't matter. All that matters is the weight of the axe in my hand and the barren feeling in my chest.

As I near, I can make out voices- shouting, snarling, calling out. A fairly large group of people, then- five by the sound of it.

Good.

More heads will roll.

I reach the treeline, and that's when the world stops.

It feels as if something has torn my mind from my body, some essential kernel of me out, and it has just been returned.

What am I doing?

I blink down at the axe in my hand, the sharpened edge glittering blue and white in the dim glow. I-

What was I thinking?

I want to throw the weapon away from me with a cry, but I know that would be stupid. That would only draw more attention to myself, and I can't risk that.

Was I really thinking of diving into whatever mess is going on out there? Am I really that desperate? I would like to think that I have at least some semblance of self-control when it comes to these things. When it comes to my emotions and controlling myself. Keeping myself in check. My common sense outweighs my stupidity, thank every god in existence but this…

This… whatever happened just then was different. Some kind of spiral my splintering mind has come up with, leading down, down, down, into what very well might be the ninth hell.

Good god, what are these Games doing to me?

I peek out from between the trees. If I'm here, I might as well see what's going on.

And what I do see makes my blood turn to hoarfrost in my veins.

Around the Cornucopia, whirls of gold and red and green clash and come apart- Halliday, Thames, and Aegis. All with their weapons out, Halliday panting. Her knives are clean of blood, for now, and Thames' spear as well as Aegis' sword hold no sign of fresh killing. For Athena and Sash are standing some way off, Sash perched atop the Cornucopia and Athena at its mouth. The fight is occurring to the side, and while both archers have arrows nocked, there isn't a clear, clean shot either of them would be able to make. Not without running the risk of killing one of their own allies.

Aegis barks something out, a command of some sort, and Thames peels off from the fight between the dark-haired boy and Halliday, the two lunging for each other once again. I don't know whether to look at the blur of green and red dancing around each other in a waltz of pure lethality, or track Thames.

Track Thames, his spear out and the iron tip spelling death, going straight for the girl with the bow. Sash is too caught up in watching Halliday and Aegis that he doesn't see until too late.

An arrow is loosed, but Thames hits the ground, rolling, back on his feet in an instant, lunging out and swiping with his weapon.

Metal flashes, gold and grey in the cruel light of the Arena, and Athena Shier lets out a cry as Thames' spear slashes down her arm.

Crimson pools in its wake, beading on her exposed, pale skin.

At the noise, everything seems to go still. Sash lowers his bow. Halliday whirls towards the girl from 2, stance faltering, and Aegis whips his head around to look at Thames, standing poised and ready, spear leveled at Athena's heart.

I inhale sharply, and take a step back, into the cover of the trees.

The Careers are fighting, and the first drop of blood has been drawn.

o0o

No deaths occurred this chapter

o0o

Alliances:

Angels and Demons: Thames Venturi (D1M) and Aegis Harlow (D2M)

An Ultimatum: Halliday Frost (D1F), Athena Shier (D2F), and Sash Radcliffe (D8M)

Stronger Together: Lauren Silver (D3F) and Ambrose Volta (D5F)

Among The Hidden (Loners, for now): Mikail Drakil (D4M), Asher Foster (D5M), Phoenix/Killian Doppelmen (D6M), and Jordan Wheaton (D9M)

o0o

A/N: *hides behind a couch* YES I KNOW IT'S BEEN A MONTH AND I AM VERY VERY SORRY PLEASE DON'T THROW ROTTEN FRUIT AT ME! I fell into a bit of a slump there, I will admit, but I've finally stopped wallowing and wrote this. While my writing hasn't changed that much, the way I go about doing things related to it has, partially because the time frame I usually use to write has been otherwise occupied for the last week or so. But I think I'm on a much more manageable, much healthier schedule now, thank god. I did also have a request for a friend to write, and I skidded waaaaay past the deadline for that too, so I killed two birds with one stone, wrote ALL OF THIS STUFF and that, and now fully intend to eat ice cream and watch Stranger Things for the rest of the night.

What did you think? Ambrose and Lauren have found each other, Sash has come to terms with his fate, Phoenix is on the hunt, Athena has found a new friend and someone to lean on, and Jordan is filled with regret and on the borderline. Let me know in a review or a PM, I'm dying to hear from you!

I hope you enjoyed this first part of Arena night 2, and yes, there will be a part 2 that I'm getting out as fast as I can. Sherazade, this was your 'calm' chapter, without any deaths ;) It's the only one you'll get for a while. These Games are moving fast, and with the pure lethality I have with the current bunch I'm working with, there'll be a whole lot of killing.

Speaking of killing, that brings me to the point of Killian's POV, in which I have to say that I was heavily inspired by League of Legends champion (champoon), Jhin, the Virtuoso. Credit due where credit is due!

And, alright, I lied, I do have one more thing to say: I need to give two last shoutouts here. The first one goes to thorne98, who's been my steadfast soundboard and friend over the last few weeks. Remember, I stand behind you and you have my unwavering support, bud! In anything and everything you do!

Secondly, and expect to see his name pop up a lot- whether in these Author's Notes or on my bio or even just in general conversation, Paradigm of Writing. Para, estrella, you've lit up my life and reminded me that I am loved and alive and stronger than I lead myself to believe. I will be your lighthouse and shelter and rock whenever you need me to be, and hold you tight through every storm. Thank you so much for existing and keeping me here, with you, in the world. The timer begins now, archangel, and I'm counting down the seconds.

Over, out, and may the odds be ever in your favor,

~SetFires (Vixen)