Day three, night.

KEPLER MALLIS, DISTRICT FIVE MALE

Forgive me, Father.

The stone walls seem to echo my own cries back in my ears, but I think I stopped crying hours ago. I… I'm not sure. Time fades around me—I don't know how long it's been since I arrived here in the dungeon, the nadir of the arena. There are no windows, the only light comes from the eternal torches flickering in their sconces.

My still-injured fingers are swollen and re-bruised, and I flex them gingerly as I stare at the empty wall ahead of me. If this is my own private purgatory… I suppose I'll take it. The chapel was hell. This is quieter, at least. Less bright. Less clamoring in my head.

The shattering of stained glass echoes in my head as well. The feeling of putting my full weight behind a shove aches in my muscles. Like it's haunting me. And the sensation of flesh giving way to knife still itches in my fingers.

There's no escape. There's no forgiveness. No cleansing. Not in the arena. Maybe not ever.

I'm too exhausted to pull myself off the ground. I was crying… I was sleeping… I was begging… and now I feel like I'm somewhere different. Like I'm looking with new eyes at the dungeon around me. The dungeon within me.

It's not clarity. In fact, my haziness is the only thing that I'm sure about. But it's like a fever has broken.

A miracle? I reach into my pouch and run my thumb over the embossed cover of my token. Then I pull it out and flip through the pasted-over pages. Over the past years I've meticulously covered every verse, every word with text and diagrams from my favorite science books. Some parts have been handwritten and copied out to fit better on the pocket-sized pages; others—with some guilt—were cut and pasted straight from the original books.

Descriptions of planetary movement, universal principles, the origin of cosmic rays, the evolution of stars. Things that made me question how and why we exist, pasted over my father's answer for every question.

And my father's training is what overpowered all else when I fell back on sinning. I hate him for that. In an instant, all my logic, my research was replaced with all-consuming fear he instilled in me.

Thinking isn't sinning, I remind myself as I let my book fall open to a page on Earth-like planets. When I first read about other potentially habitable planets, I was drawn to them because several shared my name. What made Earth special? I wanted to know. Why us? My father said that we were chosen by God and that was the end of it. I had a hard time believing that, as I kept learning more about the far reaches of the universe. It always rested in the back of my head when I prayed. Why Earth? Why me? In the vast universe, how could God put all God's boundless energy into one specific place? Other planets don't have wars the same way Earth does. Or rebellions. Or fathers who commit adultery even though they claim to be pious.

There's no forgiveness in the arena. I do not need my father's forgiveness. And if there is a God, because I've never found proof for or against, he certainly wouldn't mind one boy doing what he must in order to survive. I was never free of sin. Not since the hypothetical Adam bit the metaphorical apple.

My survival is no miracle. It was luck and fear and blind panic. Not a miracle. I could convince myself it was all absolutely necessary. That Calandra attacked me, that it was all self defense like Aviva. That it wasn't my fault after all.

But would that be truthful? The only thing I know is that I have to be able to forgive myself. It doesn't come from my father. It comes from me. And I have sought the truth above all else for my whole life. That's the one thing I can't give up on.

So what is true? God? Who knows. The universe? Theoretical. My experiences? What was one thing to me could look completely different from the outside.

Start small. Things that are indisputable.

My name is Kepler Mallis. I share that name with an ancient scientist and numerous exoplanets. I am seventeen years old. My father taught me to be Catholic. My mother homeschooled me. I sneak out of the house to see Wes. I like learning. I want to know the truth of things. I don't know if I believe what my parents taught me.

No. Calm down. Focus. Smaller truths. Don't go so big.

My name is Kepler. I'm seventeen. I'm from District Five. My favorite color is… I don't have one. Dark blue is nice. Burgundy is nice, the color of my favorite blanket as a child.

No. Start with facts. Think recent. Address the situation.

I am Kepler. I am seventeen. I am in the Hunger Games. I have killed Aviva Nightshade and Calandra Belmont. I am in the dungeon.

My mind shies away from the words.

Truth is, I can do nothing but survive. There's no cosmology in the arena. Just survival. I don't know how many people are left in here with me. But they all have to die for me to live.

If I keep begging for forgiveness after every horrible action, I cannot focus on survival. I can be absolved my guilt when I am safe in a place where I won't have to fight for my life. Hierarchy of needs.

There's no forgiveness in the arena, which means I don't have to worry about any of that anymore. Not here. Maybe not ever. But I can't do anything—find truth, seek belief, recover—until I have the chance to live. Step one. Truth is, there will be more death. Truth is, I don't know if I can bring myself to kill anyone else.

But I'm not ready to find out if there's anything after death.

I tremble against the cold flagstones as I try to pull myself into a sitting position. My head spins as I right myself, and my stomach heaves. I haven't had anything to eat in… too long. I don't know when the last time I thought about food was. I haven't been… lucid enough to consider it.

But I am now. And I have no more time to spare for begging.

CAELLE LOVAGE, DISTRICT TWO FEMALE

I wince as I try to scrub my sword clean of the beast's blood. It took me ages to bandage up my arm—never planned for how difficult it might be to bandage my own major wound—and after all that I had to go back to the mutt's stinking body, retrieve my swords from its corpse, and start cleaning them.

Now it's night, and here I am still trying to get crusty blood off my blade by moonlight. It doesn't help that my only cleaning materials are rags and, like, grass. I came back out here to the courtyard because I didn't know where else to go, but I can't exactly use the huge central boulder as a grindstone or anything.

I brace the sword with my knee, letting my bad arm take a break, and scrub at the blade with my right hand. My grip is wobbly with only one arm able to manage a full workload.

Soon enough, my knee slips and the blade jumps, nicking my finger. I hiss to myself, sucking the blood from my fingertip.

I've gotten plenty of little cuts before, but this one is the straw that kills the camel or whatever. I kick my sword away and pace around the courtyard. Fuck this shit. I'm tired. I'm hungry. I'm alone.

The blast of the anthem startles me, and I swear louder.

The first face in the sky is Andros, and I hate how mixed my feelings are about seeing his picture projected up there. Good riddance, but also… I didn't want to be on my own at this point.

I'm still unnerved by the way he screamed before he died. Was it anger? Fear? Betrayal? All of them? I couldn't tell. The noise was just so foreign. Andros never seemed like he had the ability to scream like that.

The second face is the girl from Eleven, and then the anthem plays again.

Fuck. That's all? Two deaths, all day? After we'd been doing so well. It feels like I wasn't good enough somehow.

I hope that wherever that snake Cyrus is, he didn't care enough to look at the sky. If he and Shelby know that Andros died, they'll know I'm alone. And I don't think they're stupid enough to come after me, but who knows?

There's eight left in the arena. Really, anything could happen.

I didn't plan for it to go like this anyway.

Not gonna lie, it fucking stings that my own district partner ditched. He'd rather stick with his little dumbass friend Shelby over someone from home? The training academy always preaches district loyalty. Agate and Tiberius wouldn't have it any other way. The least Cyrus could have done was listen to them.

It's moments like these where I would rather have had Klaus with me in the arena. Well, on second though… he would have totally tried to take the reins because he didn't think I was good enough.

I am good enough. I've proved myself. How many kills have I gotten? How many allies have I outlived?

Doesn't change the fact that I'm alone. Alone, alone, alone.

I didn't want it like this.

After all, I planned to keep the four-person alliance together longer. We were doing so well, until Cyrus and Shelby left.

I was so assured of my Victory. And now I'm injured…

No. I can't think like that. I beat Andros, Eliana was no match for me, and I even took down a mutt.

But I couldn't keep a plan together. And all the past victories mean nothing when I'm up against a new challenge.

I'm the best. I have to be.

Nothing is guaranteed.

I know I'm the strongest individual left in the arena. But what if it turns into a two-on-one fight? Three-on-one? If there's another mutt? If I'm blindsided or ambushed?

Why does it feel like the only safe option is to back myself into a corner and wait for things to attack me? When the others were here, it was easy to look at them and look at myself and tell myself I was the best. I was at least better than them. Just like it's always been. I'm the best by outdoing everyone around me. That's what matters.

And now there's no one around to see it. I'm not in charge. I can't guide or lead or direct if I'm the only one remaining.

No alliance. No authority.

That's who I've been since the moment I volunteered. Authority over Cyrus. Authority when I brought the alliance together. Directing strategies.

Without all of that…

I feel like I'm fourteen again, alone in the woods, lying prone at the base of a tree I've just fallen out of. The fading laughter of my friends and classmates rings in my ears. I said I was the best at climbing, but I couldn't even get ten feet up in the old pine. My cheeks burn with shame.

If there's no competition, where the fuck do I go from here?

I kick my sword again, sending it dancing a few feet across the patchy grass. Letting my eyes close briefly, I slump against the boulder and settle to the ground.

It's been a long fucking day. And the worst part about being alone, I've decided, is that there's no one to watch my back.

I don't want to go to sleep. I'm not safe anymore. But I can't deny the exhaustion behind my eyes. I haven't stopped moving all day, and barely took a break to eat.

What if I can't keep this up? The traitorous thought slips into my head and I want to scream. Don't start now, Caelle! Not this close to the end.

CYRUS AUGUSTIN, DISTRICT TWO MALE

"Holy shit! It's Andros! He's dead! We never have to see him again!" Shelby cheers, leaping up and down for joy beside me as we watch the faces parade through the sky tonight. I grin, and the relief floods my body.

I hope against hope that the second face will be Caelle, but no luck. It's Calandra from Eleven.

"Good thing we ditched when we did, huh, Cy?" Shelby beams at me.

I nod. "Hell yeah." The pressure of Andros on our tail gone, knowing it's just Caelle out there, is a huge relief. Even my district partner would have a hard time fighting two against one with us, especially since I still think she'd be reluctant to kill me. "I'm gonna sleep well tonight for sure!"

"And we don't even have to sleep on the floor!" Shelby crows. I look at the huge bed in the second-floor room we've commandeered and allow myself another smile. Eliana and Caelle can't make me sleep on the floor for another night, and it feels freeing.

But…

We saw more than one bedroom on this floor, but I'm not quite willing to leave my one remaining ally alone. The second we're out of sight, there's no way to have each other's backs.

"You can take the bed, Shelbs. I'll still take the floor, it's no big deal. I'll just steal a few of the pillows."

Shelby rolls her eyes. "It's a queen sized bed."

I raise an eyebrow at her, and she makes a face back at me. "C'mon, Cyrus, don't act all weirdly chivalrous. We're grownups. We haven't bathed in days. We've killed people. We can share a fucking bed."

"I mean, if you insist. I'm just trying to be polite."

"No need to be so self-sacrificing. I'm not about to return the favor by dying for you, 'kay?"

I think about the way my lower back is aching from the nights I've spent standing watch and sleeping on the stones at Caelle's feet. Sleeping in an actual bed, not even a cot, sounds like the epitome of luxury. "Understood."

We make ourselves busy reorganizing the supplies we took from the guard house, bustling around the room pretending to have chores, snacking on some of our now-stale food, until I can't help it anymore. I burst out laughing, and flop down on the bed with a half-eaten roll in my hand.

"What's so funny now? I haven't made any jokes!"

I sit up just enough to see Shelby across the room. "We outlived Andros! We never have to see that bastard again!"

She does a goofy little dance and then sighs happily. "Our odds are honestly looking pretty great now. Way better than this morning, and all we did was remove ourselves from a piss poor situation."

"What a relief." I gnaw on the last little bit of bread as I bask in the glow of making final eight. And, now that it's just the two of us as allies, there's no one who can hold Shark's death over my head. My choice when and if to tell Shelby. At this point, I think it's less and less of a big deal. There was no loyalty between them, after all. She doesn't grieve him.

Shelby unbuckles her pouch and burrows into the bed, proclaiming it comfortable. I do my nighttime stretch routine, and then pull a curtain over the window to darken the room a little more. The torches still flicker, but the room is almost truly dark without the moonlight streaming in.

"Goodnight fellow ally," I say, jokingly formal. Shelby responds by groaning and pulling the covers over her head. I roll my eyes, toss a pillow in the center of the bed as a polite barrier, and then crawl in on the other side.

It feels so good to sink into the soft mattress, to close my eyes and feel somewhat safe.

"Do you wanna hook up?"

My brain malfunctions. "What?"

I roll over to look at Shelby, who's got her head propped up with one arm and is giving me a wicked grin. "You heard me."

I'm thankful that I don't blush easily, but I can still feel the heat rising in my face. "Shelby… um… I don't know if that's the best—"

"Oh! Oh. Sorry, no. I don't like you. I mean. Like like you or anything. I'm not fucking stupid. No strings attached. But. You know. We have a whole bed. And no allies. And death is inevitable… so why not do it with someone who's hot and not gonna kill you?"

I briefly hate myself for considering the offer, but then again… she's not wrong. And we definitely have chemistry. I think about the way she joked about seduction during training, the way we've always been there for each other, the instinct we have to hug each other when things get scary.

And she said I was hot, so…

"Shelby… uh. Don't get me wrong, I'm tempted. Like, thank you, I appreciate it, you're very attractive. But… among other things, we're surrounded by cameras right now."

She glances around and shrugs. "And? I don't care, it's not like they'd show anything on television. Your mom isn't gonna see."

"You make a convincing argument." Honestly, not like I'd take too much convincing. I really do… trust her.

The silence is short but the tension is suffocating.

"Well?" she asks.

"No strings attached?"

"Obviously, dummy. This is a get-it-while-you-can arrangement."

We lock eyes, and in the same moment something sparks. Shelby nearly lunges forward over the pillow I'd set between us. I sit up, wrapping an arm around her waist as she straddles my lap. Then we're kissing, lips pressed together desperately, and my brain slides out of survival mode into a much warmer, happier place.

Get it while you can, I think, and then Shelby bites my bottom lip and I stop thinking entirely.

MALEK TREVELIAN, DISTRICT SEVEN MALE

"Okay. I think that's everything." I step back and survey our handiwork. Using the spilled grain from the huge sacks around us, Inaya and I have mapped out as much of the arena as we can remember. Mainly it's the central floor, with the bathroom and kitchen, and the room where we are now. But we've got the paths between those laid out, and where we are relative to all other known locations.

"Where's safest?" Inaya wonders, studying our makeshift map.

"Well, there's a whole upper floor that we haven't even touched yet. I feel like lots of other people will still be up there? I'm nervous about trying to explore new area, if I'm being honest."

Inaya nods seriously. "That's why we're going in the middle of the night, right? Because it's when most others are likely to be asleep, so we won't have to worry about running into them?"

"Yep, and that was a really smart idea. Sleep early, let the anthem wake us up, and then get to work. Now we're on a different schedule than the others." I'm careful to compliment Inaya, build her confidence back up from our fight earlier so we'll be stronger together. I don't want to set us back, since the safest way to survive is still as an alliance. I'm not willing to leave her behind yet, so I'm walking on eggshells to avoid another confrontation.

Inaya nods gratefully at my response, and crouches down to look at the map. "Do you think the kitchen could be a good place to try again? There's a lot of exit doors from that room, so we could make a quick escape. And there's always the chance there could be more food."

"Kitchen it is. Time to pack up?"

We scoop up our water bottles and slip them into our pouches, and then we find ourselves hovering at the door. We've been down here a while now, long enough for the arena past that door to feel dangerous. A monster behind every door, a Career down every hallway.

But if Inaya's been right this whole time and I've missed the clues, there's something just as dangerous biding its time in here. Is this a rock-and-hard-place situation that I just don't see? Truth be told, I don't really want to leave this room. It's worked well for us so far.

"Are you all right?" Inaya asks. I nod, hoping she doesn't notice my brief hesitation. "Are you ready?" I let her go ahead of me to the door. As she reaches out her hand to open it, I hear something.

A scraping. A rustling. Undeniably something bigger than a rat.

Inaya opens the door and gasps. I glance over her shoulder to see a figure on the stairwell, but the noise behind me grows louder and whip my head around to see the shadowy form emerging from the piles of unusable supplies.

That's a fucking monster.

"Inaya, we have to run." Whoever's on the stairs is less of a threat.

She stumbles forward. "Sharif?"

Sure enough, her district partner is asleep on the stairs. Hearing his name, he lifts his head and groggily stares at us.

"I said RUN!"

The roar that echoes behind me convinces everyone to hustle. I grab Inaya's arm and drag her along, and she manages to snag Sharif's hand as we pass. We race up the stairs, and I briefly register that the pale, dim light of dawn is starting to peek through the windows. We thought it was still night.

No matter now.

We burst through the first door we see, running into the kitchen. Sharif is still trying to wake up, trying to say something to Inaya, but I turn around in terror. What's coming?

The black dragon, the size of a massive horse, explodes through the door behind us in a haze of smoke.

"Inaya, is that what you've been hearing?" She nods frantically, tears in her eyes. "How the fuck did I miss that?"

"It must be growing so fast," she whispers.

I'm never doubting her again.

"Keep moving!" Sharif hollers, grabbing both of us and pulling us towards another door. We tumble through and into the great hall just as the dragon roars again and a column of fire jets from its mouth.

"Holy shit," I mutter, seeing the corpse of yet another terrifying mutt in the center of the room. I don't even want to know what happened here, but it's clear that it had some relation to one of the cannons from earlier.

"If we don't keep moving, we're all dead," Sharif continues, hustling us through another door into a room full of cots.

"To the side!" Inaya cries, pulling us all against the wall next to the door. The dragon follows mere seconds behind us, and as soon as its tail clears the doorframe Inaya ducks back through the door. Sharif and I share a glance, still shocked to see each other, and then I nudge him.

"Follow her," I mouth. He tiptoes through the door, and I try to rush after him as the dragon prowls down the center of the room. But I catch my shoe on the threshold and the scuff is loud enough that the dragon swings its heavy head around.

"Go! Go! Go!" I push the others ahead of me, not knowing where to go.

"No dead ends! No dead ends!" Inaya and Sharif break in opposite directions as the dragon reenters the room. It makes a beeline for Inaya.

"NO!" I scream, but it doesn't burn her to a crisp. Instead, it whips its long tail around, cutting off her escape, and redirects the three of us into a group.

"Oh, fuck," Sharif whispers. It's circling us, smoke curling up from its nostrils. If it breathes fire again, maybe we can duck under the flame and make a run for it…

The huge doors on the other side of the room swing open, revealing Caelle, one shoulder bandaged but both swords still in hand. She looks haggard but still deadly, but her face reads pure terror when she sees the dragon.

It lunges towards her, but just like with Inaya it herds her towards us rather than attacking head on. Its jet of fire pushes her forward until she's in the same little circle as we are.

For a moment, there's silence except for our heavy breathing. Three of us, one Career, one dragon.

The dragon takes flight before anyone has the chance to move, leaping into the air and breathing down a circle of fire. The flame leaps up, surrounding all four tributes and holding us in the same space. I can't even see the dragon through the wall of fire. I can't tell where it's gone.

Inaya clings to me, coughing at the smoke. Sharif shares a panicky glance first with me, then with his district partner. Caelle refocuses her attention on us and raises one sword.

"Caelle, can't we work together?" I beg. "There's bigger things at stake!"

She shakes her head, eyes now devoid of feeling. "They want a fight. I'm happy to provide."

I don't see a way out of this.

This chapter is a SPICY one! Ooh!

No deaths, shockingly! But there's still plenty going on. ;)

Also, yes, hello dragon! Congratulations to all who predicted that. It's been rapidly growing since the first little fire in the kitchen all those chapters ago, and now it's big enough to party! There's no traditional feast in this story, but we are still having a little late-Games get together. So you can consider the next chapter the 'feast' if you so desire.

Anyway I had a great vacation, hope you all are doing well!

Questions!

Name for the dragon?

Who's about to die?

Drop a review and let me know! It feels good to be back.