day three, part two: dreams so real

Thought I made a stand, but I only made a scene.
All the unknown dying (or dead) keep showing up in my dreams.

Nearly a full day after the hidden door under the desk was revealed, Celesto finds himself looking down at it once more, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his arena uniform, fingers curling tight into the fabric as an attempt to anchor himself.

"What do you think's under it?" he asks Kahlan, not for the first time. Or maybe it is the first time he's voiced the thought aloud; Celesto can't recall. He's running on less than an hour of sleep, any drowsiness he'd fallen prone to having dissipated during the course of the last several hours, sublimated entirely by fear. And fear makes it impossible to attain rest - something Celesto knows all too well, having lived in the volatile environment of his father's household.

There was something about the door that had set him on edge; not in the typical uneasy way that most things do, but in a more primal, malevolent way, one that made the hair on the back of his neck stand up and his flesh prickle with goosebumps. Since he'd first pulled back the rug, Celesto had been feeling nauseous, coupled with a near-overwhelming sense of malaise that he couldn't place. Part of it, undoubtedly, is because of the door - locked, it's locked, how could it be locked? he'd practically shouted at Kahlan, desperation and franticness coloring his sensibility to the point where his fear became his rationality.

"Hey, Celesto, calm down for a second. Let's take some deep breaths, alright? In for three seconds, out for three seconds. Can you do that?"

He hadn't thought so, at first - had been frantic, so frantic that his lungs and his eyes were burning, that he was sputtering even as he held back his sobs, his breath shaky, his nails bitten raw from how intensely he'd been gnawing at them.

(this is bad this is bad this is bad)

(death, we're dead, we're about to die, we…)

But he'd taken Kahlan's advice. Listened. And his breath came back to him, along with his thoughts after a short time had passed. Enough for Celesto to stop thinking about the locked door keeping them from accessing the hallway, and enough for him to (mostly) quit fretting about what, exactly, was hidden behind the tightly closed trapdoor with the thick bolt locked in place to keep it shut. He's still concerned - how could he not be? - but the concern's… manageable.

Because of Kahlan.

"Sorry, to keep going on," Celesto says. "I really appreciate what you did before… getting me to calm down. I don't mean to make things more difficult."

"Hey, you have the right to feel scared. It's a natural reaction. We're in a tense situation."

Kahlan takes a seat next to him, eyes surveying the bolt wedged through the two silvery hooks in the wood, keeping the door thoroughly secure for the time being.

"Doesn't exactly look inviting, if we're being honest," he mutters. Celesto chuckles, shaking his head.

"That's an understatement. And probably half the reason I'm so on edge with everything, it's just…" he pauses, wracking his brain for the correct word. "Foreboding. It's foreboding."

"But we have to open it," Kahlan states plainly. "And if not now, when? We've been sitting ducks for almost a day."

"And we need water," Celesto adds, looking at the two half-empty bottles discarded atop the desk. An unexpected - but direly needed - gift from Kahlan's mentor (and presumably sponsors), they couldn't have come at a better time. Kahlan's was already partially drained by the time Celesto noticed the note attached to the metal tin they'd been dropped in. Drink wisely and conserve.

(... bit late for that, sadly.)

"Yeah…" Kahlan whispers, rubbing a palm over his face, thumb pressing briefly into his right eye before he withdraws his hand, blinking rapidly.

He looks just as tired as I feel, Celesto thinks, rueful. Aren't we a pair?

"Sight for sore eyes," he remarks offhandedly, and Kahlan chuckles again.

"Oh, yes. Truer words were never spoken."

He doesn't raise his head, though. His gaze is glued to the shiny lock, glinting in the office's dimmed light.

"Shall I do the honors," Celesto asks, swallowing his fear. "Or would you like to?"

"I'll do it," Kahlan responds, lapsing into seriousness. "You might want to move back a little. Keep an eye on the main door… maybe it'll open again."

"You think we'll get that lucky?" Celesto asks. Kahlan shrugs.

"No harm in wishful thinking. Expect the worst, but hope for the best - that's what I'd tell Aubri."

Celesto nods. "Right. Here's to hoping."

Kahlan shifts his position as Celesto withdraws, standing to his feet and taking a couple steps back before returning to a kneel. From his new position, he can only just make out the sight of Kahlan's hands deftly unshackling the bolt, pulling it to the side and then back through the silver ring that's affixed to the office floor. The lock makes a loud screeching noise as Kahlan pulls it, and Celesto instinctively flinches, holding a hand up to his ear to block out the noise. Anything high-pitched has the tendency to startle him; anything loud, really, bangs or creaks or people shouting at one another, even when they're well out of sight.

It'll be fine, Celesto reassures himself. It'll be fine, there's nothing to worry about yet, and if there is, we'll figure it out. Kahlan has my back and I have his. Whatever's underneath the floor is something we'll face together, not alone.

(I'm not alone.)

Kahlan's fingers curl around the handle and he yanks on it, the hinges groaning loudly as the door is split from the floor, wood creaking under Kahlan's weight as he changes his stance, one knee tucked under him, the other upright as he plants his foot on the ground and starts to lift.

"Here," Celesto jumps up and positions himself to grab the other side. He and Kahlan pull the door up and push it back so it's propped against the desk, the handle wedged into the dip where the panelling hits the underside of the surface.

"Not too bad," Kahlan admits, offering him a gracious grin, one that Celesto's happy to return.

Then, he turns his focus to the hole in the floor.

A cement staircase, utilitarian and lined by dust, leads up into the room from an abyssal darkness, not a hint of light to be seen in the tunnel below. The angles are sharp, and the stairs themselves are marred by a mess of pressure cracks.

"They don't look very stable," Kahlan says. "Maybe we should-"

The temperature drops.

There's no other way to describe it; one moment the room is perfectly moderate, not warm but certainly not chilly. The next, it's as if they've been thrust into the midst of a blizzard. Everything freezes. Celesto can feel himself shivering, can see his breath in the air, a soft mist that's warmer than anything around it. His eyes widen as he looks at Kahlan, arms wrapped around his torso to try and conserve what heat he still has.

"Kahlan…"

His ally meets his fear-tinged expression with a look that's equal parts anticipation and horror.

"I know."

From the dark tunnel, something clinks; there's the sound of scraping, metal clashing with rock, the chiming of what sounds like chains being dragged across the cement floor at the bottom.

Celesto's feet are rooted to the spot, the tension petrifying him. He tilts his head to look down into the open stairwell…

A large - almost obscenely large - black-gloved hand is resting on the wall, so far down that it's nearly out of his sight. There's more clinking, and then a foot emerges on one of the stairs.

There's a click across the room. Celesto's head turns to see the door - formerly locked - now open and swung slightly inward, enough for the hallway's light to filter in through the crack. Kahlan seems to have noticed it too, because he's grabbing for Celesto's hand, dragging him over to it, frantic as ever and there's too much touching, too many hands, stop it, Father, stop - but it's alright, has to be alright this time, because if he stops for a second, if he lets that… that thing in the stairwell, whatever it is, catch up with them, they're both dead.

"We need to go," Kahlan swings open the door, pushing Celesto out first and then doubling back for the remaining water on the desk. Celesto balks.

"Leave it! Just leave it!"

Kahlan tucks the bottles under his arm and sprints back to the door, shutting it behind him as he turns to Celesto.

"It's not fast, whatever it is. Don't worry. We can-"

There's a loud crash from inside the room. Then another. Thudding, smashing, books toppling to the floor, chairs splintering - it sounds like everything at once, and yet nothing at the same time.

"You were saying?!"

"Nevermind!" Kahlan tugs on his arm once, then immediately bolts for the end of the hallway, running with no destination in sight. Celesto's right on his heels, an alarm blaring in his mind on repeat, one thought screaming at him loudly enough to drown out the rest.

Run.

Run, and don't look back.

The sponsor gift's been bothering Maddy since she first laid eyes on it.

Part of it was because she hadn't expected to receive a sponsor gift - much less a sponsor gift labelled 10 but clearly intended for a girl who was from 7. Maddy's aware that Elowyn's probably on the outs with sponsors after the stunts she pulled... well, at pretty much every opportunity she got. But even if the medical supplies were given to Maddy because Verity wanted her to assist her sponsorless ally, it doesn't explain why they were sent in the first place.

If Elowyn's unpopular enough that nobody wanted to sponsor her, why bother sending me bandages, antiseptic and pain balm to patch her wound? Why not just let her bleed out and die?

If that weren't enough of a mystery on its own, the note was downright baffling. Admittedly, Maddy doesn't know how sponsor gifts usually work, but she's pretty sure when mentors attach notes to them, they aren't printed over both sides, and random letters aren't bolded for emphasis. She's spent awhile analyzing it, trying to figure out what the deal is because if it's not a sick joke - if it's serious - then Maddy doesn't have any idea what she should do.

Thought this cryptic bullshit would be done when I left the underground. Having it crop up again here is like a case of bad karma.

Maddy spares another glance to the presently unfolded slip of paper in her hand; stuffed inside her shirt the way it has been for forty-eight hours, some of the ink's started to smear as a result of contact with sweat, leaving the words only half-legible. But she's glanced at it nearly twenty times now, and that's enough for her to have committed the contents to memory.

Maddy,

Just in case you need something like this to get your ally through. Ointment and bandages, along with antiseptic. Make it through the night. Stay safe, while you have the ability.

-V

Judge in basement. Stay away.

Heh. Maddy shakes her head. Cryptic is right. She folds the paper back up and tucks it back into her uniform collar, unsurprised to find Seven watching her with a raised brow when she turns to look at her now-wakeful ally.

No, not Seven. Elowyn. Maddy reminds herself, then grimaces a bit at the closeness knowing the girl's name implies. She hadn't wanted to, at first - had gone so far as to outright reject Elowyn's first offer to share it, the night after the bloodbath when they'd come together in the supply closet. But Seven had been persistent - not just that Maddy know her as Elowyn, but as El.

"We're pretty much friends at this point. Or the closest thing anyone can get in Death Match Arena of Torment… anyway, you know what I'm saying, Ten."

"No point in distance if you're going to die." Maddy affirmed, clinking her water bottle to Elowyn's in toast. "Fine, El. You win."

"Best words I've heard all day." Elowyn grinned, propping her arm beneath her head as she stared up at the ceiling, her recently-bandaged leg stretched out over the ground.

"Really?" Maddy asked, overcome by a sudden urge to match her… comrade's teasing head-on. "Better than 'sponsor medicine?'"

"Hey, not my fault you're a horrible nurse." Elowyn laughed, her eyes slipping closed. "But my mom'd say the same about me, so guess I can't talk."

For a moment, Maddy thought about… chasing the thread for conversation that was dangling before her, allowing herself to get involved. Asking about Elowyn's mother - about her family, what they were like, what she was like, typically, as out-of-Games Elowyn, not tribute Elowyn.

But she didn't. She stayed quiet instead, kept to herself, wanting to avoid whatever personal talk Elowyn seemed to be eager for. She's not my friend. She can't be. For my sake.

"To pull a page from your book: not my fault you've got zero tolerance for pain," she'd responded instead, the half-caustic banter far more natural for her to settle into. "I rest my case."

Pushing the memory to the side, Maddy greets Elowyn with a nod.

"Thought I felt you staring."

"Just admiring the scenery." El winks at her, nodding to Maddy's collar. "So what's with the note?"

Do I tell her?

"... nothing," Maddy lies with a frown, stepping closer to Elowyn. "Just nice to know that somebody out there cares. Mentor or not, she didn't have to send us anything. So the fact that she did… is weird to think about. I guess."

"Y'know, I feel like you're being a bit cagey… but I'll let it slide." Elowyn holds a hand out to her, letting her arm stay outstretched in the air gracelessly until Maddy grabs hold of it.

She's expecting… a shake, or a squeeze, or something. Not a tug. Elowyn yanks on her arm and Maddy lets out an undignified yelp as she practically falls on top of her ally, clutching at Elowyn's shoulder to try and regain her balance. But it doesn't work, not really, because Elowyn's got an arm tangled around Maddy's back and is winding fingers into her uniform to keep her in place, hauling her closer until they're locked in an awkward mess of a hug.

"What the -" Maddy starts, but Elowyn shakes her head.

"Just roll with it, Ten." She lets her other arm encircle Maddy as well, squeezing her body tightly as she sits up a little and leans forward to rest her head against Maddy's shoulder. "Listen. I know you don't like this touchy-feely stuff…"

"I hate it," Maddy confirms, and Elowyn snorts.

"Okay, yeah. But sometimes it says a lot more than words can, okay? And I guess I'm just trying to tell you that it's not just Verity."

Maddy pulls back sharply, her breath hitching. "What?"

"It's not just your mentor that cares about you. I care. Maybe more than I should." Elowyn shrugs. "Listen, I suck with words. But hugs…" She pauses. "Okay, I suck with hugs, too. But you know what I'm trying to say, right?"

Maddy forces herself to nod. Elowyn claps her on the arm and settles back against the wall.

"Great. Awesome. Glad we got that sor-"

"Kahlan, hurry up, it's right there - oh shit, no, no no no -"

"Just run! Keep running and don't look back!"

A shadow crosses in front of the door. There's a sound of splintering as the owner crashes into the pile of boxes outside of the supply closet, and a strangled cry just a second later.

Maddy's back on her feet before she can think, striding over to it with her knife in hand.

"Get up," the voice is louder now. "Come on. we have to keep moving."

"Okay... okay, sorry, I'm sorry, I'm…"

Celesto?

Maddy flings the door open.

Two pairs of wide eyes greet her, as she steps out from the supply closet, hardly able to reconcile the sight before her - Celesto and Kahlan, their uniforms torn, both of them bloodied and covered in dirt, her district partner's face smeared with tears - with what she'd been expecting when she heard their voices.

It's only been three days, Maddy thinks, and they're already such a far cry from how they were in the Capitol.

"Maddy," Celesto rasps, his legs trembling as Kahlan pulls him back to his feet, his voice so small it's like he's going mute. "You need to go, it's coming this way. There's no time, we couldn't -"

"What's going on? What's coming?" Maddy asks.

A roar echoes from somewhere to her left. Almost as if on cue, a dark mist starts to shroud the area by the archway into the gallery, and Celesto points to it with a shaky hand.

"That."

Shit, Maddy thinks, ducking back into the closet and rushing to Elowyn's side.

"Get up, we have to go."

"What? Why?"

"I don't know, but it's got my District partner practically pissing himself. That's enough for me to know I don't want to stick around."

Wrapping her arm around Elowyn's waist, Maddy drags her wounded ally - stumbling and cursing as her wounded leg is repeatedly jostled - to the door and back outside.

Eight and Celesto are still there.

"What are you doing?" Maddy demands.

"Waiting," Eight says, slipping over to Elowyn's other side, motioning for her to put her free arm around his shoulders.

"Why?" Maddy prods again, confused.

"Because we aren't leaving you with it." Celesto tells her, like he thinks the answer should be obvious. Maddy opens her mouth to respond… and bites her tongue instead as Eight helps secure Elowyn between their bodies, making her previous work considerably easier.

"Thanks," she says to the Eight boy, who just shakes his head in response.

"It's not a problem."

A chill runs through the room, and Maddy turns her head.

"But that is!" Celesto exclaims, starting to run again as Maddy and the Eight boy hoist Elowyn up enough for her to stumble forward with them as a crutch.

"Celesto! The office we passed ten minutes ago!"

"Right!"

He rounds the corner and disappears out of sight.

Elowyn chuckles. "What are the fucking odds."

"Apparently astronomical," Maddy snaps back, trying to pick up her own pace while supporting her ally's weight. Eight's boot catches and he stumbles, Elowyn crying out in pain as her own foot slips out from under her and she's left clinging to her companions.

"I can't! I'm slowing you down, I…" She looks desperate. "Ten, you have to go."

"I'm not leaving you, El -"

"Neither of us are," Eight adds in affirmation, but Elowyn just shakes her head again, her body slumping against Maddy's, arm sliding off of Kahlan's back.

"You are. You have to. I… I don't wanna die, but it's going to keep chasing us, and I can't fucking walk! I can't fucking walk, and you can, so - so just… go. Just go."

She's crying. Her hand smacks against Maddy's chest, pushing her back even as Maddy tries to grab her around the waist and drag her away.

"Go."

Eight looks to Maddy. And Maddy…

Maddy nods.

"I'm sorry."

Elowyn shakes her head. "Don't apologize. Rebels never win the Games, right?"

She pulls out of Maddy's reach, leg buckling as she takes one step backwards, then another. The clanging of chains as they drag across the ground grows louder as a dark form steps through the archway of the gallery hall into the judicial quarter, so large that it has to bend down and brace its hand against the ceiling as it steps through.

"Get out of here." Elowyn smiles at her. "Win."

Maddy swallows, her mouth running dry.

"Okay."

She takes the Eight boy - Kahlan's - hand, squeezing it for support as he starts to run toward the opposite end of the hall. She doesn't speak, she doesn't turn, and she doesn't spare a glance over her shoulder. Because she can't change this. Any of it.

She couldn't save her mother.

She couldn't save Helen.

She can't save Elowyn.

But she's alive. She's alive, even if she's not sure she wants to be, and as Maddy runs, she realizes that she has to stay that way. Alive, and breathing, and thinking and feeling. Alive, to repay her mother's sacrifice, to spread word of Helen's ideals, to honor Elowyn's memory.

For their sake, as much as hers.

In the dark confines of the cabinet, wedged in between Madigan and a sturdy wooden panel so tightly that she can barely breathe, Kellie's senses feel like they've gotten pushed into overdrive. The longer she spends sittin' in silence, the more aware she is of where she is, what she's doing, what's around her. And it's all so loud. Each snag of her uniform against the screws holding the cabinet together, each rapid, fluttering beat of her heart, each tiny movement that Madigan makes beside her, their knees and shoulders touching to one another, both of them doing their absolute best to keep their breathing stifled… she feels trapped, and she hates it, it's got her all flighty and fluttery at once and Kellie wants to scream, wants to run, wants to move, but she can't because they're right there, right outside…

The other tributes.

She's not too good with names or voices, so the deets slipped away from her a bit, but she knows that there are three of them, that they're older, and that they're scared. That much's been obvious since she and Madigan heard 'em shouting at each other out in the hallway, whooshing by the door one after the other before there was a loud crash and they'd all gone silent. It felt like hours before they came back, but even with the time gap, she and Madigan just stayed in the cabinet… the doors open until they heard voices doubling back toward where they'd made camp. They'd pulled in and shut the doors up tight, sorta like Kellie would do back at the 'home when she was hidin' from Ivette and her cronies. Lots of good places to sneak away at Koehler's, long as you knew how to get in and out. And Kellie's got the advantage of bein' small, which helps.

"-whatever that thing was, we got away. We survived. It's going to be alright." One of the tributes says, their breathing shaky but their voice soothing.

"She's dead because of us, Celesto. Because I wasn't quick enough…"

"No. She's dead because this is the Hunger Games." There's a sigh from just outside the cabinet doors, and Kellie inadvertently leans further into Madigan's side, her hands pressed tight across her mouth as she struggles with keeping her noises to herself. "Listen… I know it's been tough on you. Everything. And I'm still feeling it too, losing Althea, and… and watching…"

The speaker whimpers, their voice catching for a moment. Kellie's pretty sure they're blinking away tears, tryin' to hold their feelings in to seem tough. She's the same way, a lotta the time; easier to brush the hard things aside, distract yourself, and then get around to dealin' with the parts you can later. But other people make it difficult. Other people mean problems, just as often as not. And that's not to say Kellie doesn't like people - it's more the opposite, actually - she just knows they can't always be trusted, and they usually don't do what you want 'em to.

"... all the death, it's a lot, it's a lot for everyone, and I…!"

"Shh, hey… you don't have to reassure me, okay? I just needed a moment. These things take time, right?" That's the second boy, the older one who helped the girl from Seven after the interviews. With his voice more composed and more serene, Kellie doesn't have much trouble picturing his face. District Eight.

"They do." The first boy - must be the kid from Ten - exhales. "I'm just happy we're alive."

"Me too."

There's a momentary silence that overtakes the room outside the cabinet; then, Kellie makes out footsteps, not approaching but receding. A door opens.

She looks to Madigan. The Six girl shakes her head, pressing a finger to her lips as if to reiterate the need for silence. Kellie glowers. I already got that.

"- clear this way," she hears another tribute chime in, a girl this time. "We should keep moving. Hate to have another encounter like that."

Yes! Keep moving! Good stuff! C'mon! Kellie thinks, her body just as restless as her mind, legs ready to just kick open the door and spring out into the office.

"Or we could rest awhile," Eight says. "You're injured, and Celesto and I are pretty winded. Maybe it's -"

"I agree with Maddy," Celesto, that's the Ten boy's name, protests. The voices drop a couple octaves, below her range of hearing. Then, there's another sigh.

"You're probably right." A pause. "Okay. Time to move."

The door hinges creak, and the handle clicks into place. Kellie lets her hands fall from where she'd clasped them over her mouth, her eyes wide as she blinks at Madigan. Her face breaks into a grin, smile overwhelming the anxiety still in her features as she uses her arm to muffle a giggle.

Madigan sighs exhaustedly, elbowing her arm gently. It's obvious from the half-relieved, half-panicked look she's got on that she probably wants to laugh, too - might be, if it weren't for her sense of caution that Kellie's come to think is almost as bad as Virian's had been. Well, maybe not quite, but it's at like, concerned big sister levels at least.

"We got lucky," Madigan says, and Kellie shrugs, sitting up straighter and leaning forward to push the cabinet door open again.

"We're still kickin', soooo… it's a win in my book." She beams. Madigan rolls her eyes good-naturedly, but doesn't protest the comment, waiting for Kellie to pull herself out of the cabinet and get her feet back on the floor before sliding over and climbing back down herself.

"We probably shouldn't stay here, either." She says, once they're both out and Kellie's got their supplies picked up again. "They might make their way back if they don't find a better spot. And I doubt they will. This place is pretty cushy."

Kellie shrugs. She really can't deny that - the plush seats, bookcases, big mahogany desk, cabinets, and plush rugs were all pretty ritzy. But she also doesn't want to leave yet. She can't really say why, just… some feelin' in her gut that's gnawing at her, telling her it's a bad idea. Something big's going on.

"What were they so scared of?" She asks Madigan. "They were cryin' and ramblin' about an attack. Do you think whatever hurt 'em's still out there?"

"Only way we'll find out is by checking," Madigan shrugs. "And we can't just spend the whole Games sitting around in the same room. Gamemakers'll pull something if they don't see some action."

Kellie sighs, her shoulders slumping. "Yeah, you're prob'ly right…"

She knows they can't rely on luck forever - and even though Kellie's thirteen, way too gung-ho half the time, and still a bit out of sorts after what happened in the bloodbath, she's just as aware of that as Madigan is. If we don't move, Capitol's gonna move us.

"Y'know," she starts. "I saw some stairs when we peeked out yesterday. Right over next to the door outside. We ain't used 'em, and if somethin' bad's goin' on up here, maybe it'll be better down there?"

Madigan smiles. "Good thinking. You got everything?"

"Bag, book, and body accounted for."

"Then let's go."

Her bones are throbbing.

Her skull aches, her chest feels hollow, her legs are in so much pain that Elowyn isn't sure if they're still intact; there was cutting, snapping in her ankles, so much blood and the ache, hells, the ache, it was like being stabbed all over again, but not like before, worse than before. Being stabbed repeatedly, in the same place, over and over until her blood was leaking everywhere and her flesh was torn to shreds, her nerves severed, muscles torn, and it hurts, Mom, it hurts so much, I can't do this anymore, I can't take this -

She doesn't know what's happening. She doesn't even know where she is. She just remembers charging at the thing, as much as she could manage with a half-crippled leg, stumbling across the floor with her fists out in front of her, ready for a fight despite knowing the outcome would be her death. She'd thrown a punch at the thing when it tried to grab for her, then dove for its legs, trying to wrestle it to the ground because if it isn't standing then I might at least have a chance, not an advantage, but a chance, maybe I can do some damage before it cuts me down, maybe I can…

And then there was darkness.

There's still darkness. Elowyn can't recall why, nor when it started. She remembers being dragged, the mutt's spindly fingers locked around her left leg as it hauled her away from the gallery, away from Ten and the other boy she'd met during the interviews, the one who'd tried to comfort her. Funny that they'd meet again like this. Elowyn would've laughed, if the feeling didn't jolt her so terribly, her ribs creaking and blood welling up in her esophagus whenever she so much as groans. Good guy, he's a good guy. And Ten's good too, even if she doesn't think it. Maybe they got away. I hope they got away, can't let this be for nothing…

She coughs. Blood spatters across her face as her lungs heave for air, her spine twisting as her back arches away from the floor, a mirage of multicolored lights dancing before her vision.

It can't end like this, it can't! Dammit, I won't go down this way, I won't, I refuse, I…

Elowyn's fingers claw at the smooth, cool stone of the floor beneath her, trying to raise her head. The lights are still flitting in and out of her blurred vision as she tries to sit up.

She barely manages to raise her head from the ground before she's screaming, her body tingling as wave after wave of agony pushes through her body. Everything's on fire. She feels like she's burning, she's burning and she can't breathe, can't think, it's just pain, radiating through her from every point in her body, her bruised skin sore to the touch, her fractured bones and mangled legs too decimated to cooperate with her will.

Mom, Elowyn thinks, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry for everything, I just wanted… just thought I could change things, even a little bit, in my own way. Really, I did. I wanted to. I wanted to fix our family. Fix the pain, and the rawness and the injustice. For you, and Finnegan, and everyone else. I just wanted to help. I thought I could help, I thought -

… I don't know what I thought.

"Elowyn Eiken." The voice that speaks is booming, loud and omnipotent, but utterly soulless, devoid of anything but coldness. Her skin feels like it's frostbitten, her tongue numb in her mouth, sticking to her teeth like it's been glued in place. Elowyn shudders, her eyes falling closed.

Please.

Let it be over.

(Let it be over, I can't take anymore, I can't do this. I'm so sorry, Mom. I'm so, so sorry!)

"Dissent," the voice says again. "Cannot be tolerated. Your sentence is death."

The room seems to grow smaller. Time grinds to a halt. All of the pressure in the air seems to intensify around her body as she sees the flaming sword - the Executioner's sword - raise high above her head.

A tear slips from her eye, rolling down the side of her face. It falls to the ground, noiseless, another memory of pain that's soon to be forgotten.

I'm scared. I'm scared to go.

But I can't let them see that. I can't let Mom see that.

Elowyn parts her lips, baring her teeth. The corner of her mouth twitches as she forces her arm to raise, curling every finger into her palm save one. She pushes her elbow into the stone and holds her hand up, flipping the bird at the Executioner, too far gone to care where the insult might get her.

I'm not broken. I'm dying intact. You can have my corpse but you won't kill my spirit.

"So be it."

The blade begins to descend with torturous slowness. Elowyn screws her eyes shut, but keeps her finger up, embracing her fate and everything that comes with it -

"What the hell is that?"

A door slams backward against the wall. Light floods into the dark chamber, blinding Elowyn's vision as her sight, too, begins to burn. She blinks her eyes open, fighting against her own body to try and make out her surroundings.

The Executioner's sword is centimeters from her face. So close she could probably bite it, if she had a mind to. So close that she's actually petrified, and can't bring herself to do anything but stare.

The sword raises. The Executioner steps back.

"Do you challenge her sentence?"

"Me?" The newcomer laughs. "Hell yeah, I do. You're wasting a lot of fresh blood."

"Ardelis," another voice says softly, almost like a warning.

"Don't 'Ardelis' me. This is the most excitement we've had all day." A blade unsheathes from its casing. "I love a bit of roughhousing with my exhibitions. Seven's a pretty little sculpture and she's mine!"

In her periphery, Elowyn sees the girl from Two charging at the Executioner.

And then a boot smashes against her jaw and her vision fades into technicolor-black.

No confirmed deaths.

A/N: Chapter title from Dreams So Real by Metric.

Thank you Firedawn'd for betaing.

Alright, so here we go; apologies in advance to the creators who will be losing their tributes in the next games chapter. It's been so amazing writing all of these guys and having to let any of them go is… honestly painful.

In other news, if y'all didn't notice the big change (!) yet, I'm here to give you a heads up - the rating of this story has been bumped from T to M OFFICIALLY. Why? Graphic gore and references to torture. I don't play around with my death scenes, and at this point, I'm not sure its suitable for me to keep the T rating I had going in. Things are going to be gruesome, if they weren't gruesome enough already. And the number of F bombs I've been dropping per chapter aren't exactly helping either, haha. I'm a vulgar person by nature so uhhh apologies :')

Tomorrow's chapter (yes there will still be one!) is an interlude... but it's highly significant. So enjoy the double update/cliffhanger. :) Hope everyone is doing well and keeping healthy! See y'all soon.