Day four, morning.
ALTHEA BIACHI, DISTRICT THREE FEMALE
The clap of thunder jolts me awake. I'm on my feet in a split second- wait. It's not raining. The morning light is soft and bright, not a cloud in the sky.
What was that noise?
There it is again. A roaring, rumbling up from somewhere in the arena.
Suddenly I feel very exposed, up here on the castle walls. I can't see anything when I peek down into the courtyard, but some primal urge compels me to hide. Get inside. Find a room. Anywhere but up here, out in the open. I've depended on this barren space for far too long.
Feeling like a feral dog, I grab my short sword, scramble to the watchtower, and hurry down the stairs. First available door I see, I rush through, pulling up short as I spot two figures at the other end of the hall.
Shelby Leone stiffens as she sees me, and my eye aches as I remember our scuffle in the bloodbath. I half-brandish my sword, but I have the feeling there's a bigger problem at hand. I'm reluctant to start a fight with a Career right now.
The thought of killing again makes me nauseous.
Her friend Cyrus, still looking sleepy, isn't concerned with me at all. He tries to pull Shelby in a different direction, to another staircase. Well, fine. If they don't have beef with me, I'll take them up on that offer.
Another roar, this one longer and louder, makes me cower against the wall as Cyrus and Shelby disappear down the staircase. Hiding place. Room. Safety.
I make a beeline towards the room that Shelby and Cyrus departed from. As I reach towards the handle of the door, there's a rush of footsteps from the stairs and they reappear with wild eyes.
They're being chased.
Cyrus pushes me as he runs past, and I'm corralled in front of the two Careers as they scramble down the hall. I look back to see a jet of flame fill the corridor and the unmistakable head and wings of a huge black dragon appear from the stairs.
Fuck that.
The three of us sprint to the other staircase, tripping down the stone steps as we go. No time no time no time. I take the stairs two at a time, hoping that I won't fall on my face and get trampled by the others.
We burst onto the main floor, the dragon only steps behind us. I can feel its flames at my back.
"Go! Go!" Cyrus pants, shoving me along. He seems to have completely forgotten that we're supposed to be enemies.
There's an open door. I dive through it into the great hall; Cyrus and Shelby blindly follow me.
"Motherfucker." There's a ring of fire in the room, a dead beast at the other end, and the screams. Who's screaming? It's not me, is it?
The dragon's roar momentarily deafens me as it explodes into the room behind us, the blast of air from its wings knocking me to the ground.
Seems like an opportune moment for my life to flash before my eyes.
But it doesn't blast me with fire or lunge forward to bite my head off. When its serpentine jaw opens and the flame pours out, it goes around the perimeter of the room, blocking off the doors.
We won't be leaving easily. The dragon perches in the rafters, surveying its collection of tributes.
The screams continue, and I look towards the smaller circle of fire. As I watch, someone is tossed from within the ring through the flames. He skids across the floor, coughing. It's Malek from Seven.
His appearance changes something. Cyrus and Shelby share a look and help each other to their feet, raising their weapons.
This is a reminder we're all enemies. Only one can survive in the end. And however many of us die now are only stepping stones on that path.
The heat of the fire scorches my skin, and I brush sweaty hair away from my face. A section of the flames dies down, revealing Caelle and the tributes from Eight.
I can trust none of them. Only fight like hell to get myself out of here.
All right. I can do this. My heart pumps wildly, and all my reluctance to fight drains away in favor of adrenaline and escape. The Capitol wants a show? I'm a Biachi. I can put on a fucking show.
And I know what fight I can win.
Caelle makes a beeline for the other Careers, but the kids from Eight stand where they are, wide-eyed with shock. I charge them, and they try to scatter but there's nowhere to go except into the flames or towards the rest of the fight. The boy, Sharif, sidesteps my first swing and ducks out of reach, but Inaya reaches into her pouch and pulls out a knife. When the fuck did she get that?
She grits her teeth and points her weapon at me, trying to stand her ground rather than fight. "We don't need to fight, Althea. We could try to find a way out, or even try to take down the Careers while they're fighting each other."
"You're less of a risk. I'm not jumping headfirst into a fight I might lose. I want to live, not play hero."
I slash at her, and she backs up straight towards the fire. The heat singes her back, and she yelps and stumbles forward again. I strike, but she's quick enough to block it with the knife. I'm stronger than she is, though, and the force of my blade knocks the knife out of her hand.
"No!" Sharif cries from the side. He tries to tackle me, but a well-placed elbow to the ribs knocks him out of my way. Where's Malek? Wasn't he super involved with these two?
Still on the ground, tunic smoldering. Good.
Inaya drops to the ground, scrambling for her knife.
"No ma'am, not on my watch," I mutter, kicking her hard in the stomach. She screams, dropping to the ground and curling into the fetal position.
Fuck. I… I don't want to kill her. But… there's no other choice. Val was the hardest part of this. She had to be hardest part.
I bring my sword down hard, piercing her torso clean through. I don't know what I've hit, but it's enough to make her cough up blood as she screams.
As she goes limp, I can't help thinking that screams don't have the same effect on me as they used to.
SHELBY LEONE, DISTRICT FOUR FEMALE
When the flames drop down to reveal Caelle, I'm hit with a surprise wave of shame. It feels like being caught.
There's no time to reflect as Caelle and the girl from Three charge in opposite directions. Cyrus pulls in close to my side, and we brace ourselves.
Ten minutes ago I was fast asleep, blissfully unaware of any fucking dragons. And now we've all been forced back together. I've had a lot of bad mornings recently, but this one really takes the cake. Figures. Best night, worst morning.
Cyrus swings his mace and Caelle is forced to dodge the spiked instrument. She snarls, striking forward before Cy can swing it again, and I block her sword with my spear.
I've never been on the receiving end of one of her hits before. She strikes hard. Nothing at all like the fumbling blows I've dealt with in the past.
I want to retreat, but there's nowhere to go.
Cyrus tries to bludgeon her again, stepping back to get her in the proper range for his mace. She's in between us now, so we're fighting as individuals instead of as a team.
But… she can only focus on one of us at a time like this. And now she's only using one sword. She has the other, but it hangs at her side almost limply, like…
"Cyrus, she's injured!"
Caelle howls in frustration and turns to me, the fury in her eyes scaring me more than anything I've ever seen. How can one person be so angry? So deadly?
I keep her sword out of striking range with my spear, but she drives hard and presses me towards the fire until my heels are nearly smoking. She's getting too close to me, I can't get a hit on her from this angle.
Cyrus comes in from the side, catching Caelle in the shoulder with the spikes of his mace. It's not a strong blow—if he swung too hard he'd hit me too—but getting hit with a fucking mace is never a good time. Caelle screams and drops the sword from her bad hand.
And at the same time, a cannon fires. I blink and glance around. Who-?
The boy from Seven is stirring on the ground, but across the room I see Althea pull her sword out of the girl from Eight. It's gotta be her. Is it just my imagination, or did the flames drop a foot or two as the cannon went off? Twin screams- Malek and Sharif- echo as Inaya lies crumpled on the ground.
Caelle rushes me again, and I don't even notice until she's right in my face, sword at my neck. I manage to get my spear up in time to block, but her blade bites into the shaft and splinters the wood.
"Shelby!" Cyrus yells, running in full tilt and shoving his district partner away from me.
"Fuck you, Cyrus," Caelle spits out as she turns her remaining sword on him. She's too close for him to use the mace.
"Sword! Sword!" I holler, and he drops his favored weapon to draw the sword from his belt. He was smart to bring a close-range backup.
They swing at each other, and even with Caelle's hurt arm they're dangerously well matched. Their blades seem to hover in the air as they press against each other, neither one able to force the other down.
"What are you gonna do, Cyrus? Kill me like you killed Shark? You fucking snake, you wouldn't know loyalty if it bit you in the ass!"
What? Cyrus throws me a guilty glance. He what?
I… I… I don't have time to deal with that.
I try to break my spear handle over my knee to get rid of the splintered break in the shaft, noticing that Althea and Sharif are fighting across the room. Althea cracks Sharif in the side of the head with the hilt of her sword, and Malek manages to heave himself off the ground to try and help.
Fuck. More tributes to deal with.
Cyrus and Caelle break apart to circle each other, looking like they're about to have a sparring match. I could jump in! Caelle won't see me coming—
Stars explode in my vision as someone slams into my side, knocking me over. Blonde hair. Althea!
This fucking bitch.
I dig into her side with the broken end of the spear shaft, and she yelps right in my ear. She pulls away, but keeps one arm locked around my shoulders so I can't get off the ground. A flash of metal in her other hand—sword.
My spear's at too awkward of an angle for me to use it against Althea. She pulls her arm back to strike, but someone yells nearby and the next thing I know, Althea's being flung away from me like a ragdoll.
"You okay?" Cyrus pants, offering his hand. I take it, and he pulls me to my feet.
"Fine as always," I manage. I do hate feeling like a damsel in distress, but it's not like I've ever had to fight in a frantic free-for-all before!
Wait. Where's—
There's a dull thunk and I suddenly lose all feeling in my lower body. I can't turn around.
"Caelle, no!" Cyrus gasps. Why can't I turn around? I look down to see the tip of a sword sticking out of my stomach, blood staining my tunic and dripping to the floor.
"Nothing personal, traitor." Caelle pulls her sword out of my back and my entire body erupts in agony. I topple forward, only to be caught by Cyrus before I hit the ground.
"I'm really useless, aren't I?" I squeak, tasting metal on my tongue. It feels like my insides are being ripped out with fish hooks.
"Shelby-"
Tears spring to my eyes, but I see two more tributes running at Cy and Caelle.
"Shelby, I'm sorry," Cyrus chokes out, and he lets me fall to the ground. My blood, sticky and dark, spills out around me and soaks into my clothes.
I'm surrounded by fire, but a chill runs through me. I try to reach for my spear, to get back to my feet, but I can't move at all.
SHARIF NAFTI, DISTRICT EIGHT MALE
I huddle underneath the foul mutt corpse, watching the fire slowly diminish as another tribute falls. The Careers from Two look like they're about to turn on each other, but someone has other ideas. Althea killed Inaya, charged into the Career fight, and now looks like she's about to go back for more. Malek dashes for Inaya's knife and runs up behind Althea, but both of them are spotted by Caelle and Cyrus.
The Careers break apart, and Althea blows right between them with Malek on her heels. I wince, glancing between the fight and Inaya's body… but what can I do? I don't have a weapon, and the only available one is the discarded mace in the middle of the melee. I couldn't lift it to save my life.
Caelle turns her attention towards Althea, and the girl from Three flees when faced with the prospect of a real fight. Dodging Caelle's sword, she leaps over the flames and scurries right out the main door. She's gone.
Cyrus cuts off Malek's path, and my breath catches as my almost-ally is pulled up short in his pursuit of Inaya's killer.
They stand still for a moment, facing each other, and then Malek slowly, shakily holds up the knife.
I feel dizzy as I see Cyrus's eyes flick down towards the weapon. Malek's challenged him now. That can't be good. He's made himself a threat. C'mon. Don't give up. Run. Escape!
Cyrus is no longer the quick-witted, easy-going guy he made himself out to be in training. I had always hoped that if I ran into him, he would be merciful compared to the others.
But it's been days since then, and it might as well have been lifetimes. Without a flicker in his eyes, he brings his sword down hard on Malek's shoulder, cutting deep into the place where his neck meets his torso. Malek doesn't stand a chance; he lets out an agonized cry and drops to his knees. Cyrus rips the sword from his flesh, and the force of that motion knocks Malek all the way to the ground.
I jam a fist into my mouth to keep from crying out. The last thing I need is Cyrus and Caelle's attention drawn towards me.
Malek still breathes on the ground, each inhale barely filling his chest, but I can't get to him. Not unless I want to be next. And I don't.
I'm glued to my hiding spot, unable to move at all. I can't go to Malek or I'll be killed. I can't run either, the shame of leaving him behind like I left Loren would destroy me.
Caelle calls out to Cyrus, and the two clash instantly. Sword to sword, striking so powerfully I imagine sparks flying even though the circle of fire continues to die out.
I press myself further into the stinking carcass of the mutt, trying to make myself invisible. Caelle curses with every blow, forcing herself to use her bad arm to continue fighting. Cyrus gets a good hit in and uses his height to press down on her.
But Caelle doesn't play nice. She lets Cyrus bear down on her, but twists to the side and knees him in the groin. I hiss with imagined pain and Cyrus groans, staggering forward. Caelle lashes out, cutting him across the back, and he punches her in the jaw.
She screams furiously, battering him with a series of blows until finally she hits his hand and disarms him. Cyrus tries to attack with his bare hands, but a sword hilt to the head knocks him to his knees. He breathes heavily, clenching his jaw and staring up at Caelle with a look of resignation in his eyes. I wouldn't be able to recognize it if I didn't spend half my own life on the verge of giving up.
Caelle's breathing just as hard as she levels her sword at Cyrus's head. She preps to strike, and Cyrus scrambles backwards on hands and knees. She leaps into motion, chasing him down and pinning him in place with a foot planted on his chest, and he sighs, letting his head fall back against the flagstones.
I can't tear my eyes away from the fight. I can't not look.
No one moves. The dragon, high above us, flaps its wings once, creating a breeze that stirs the scene. I watch Caelle think, face stony, and then she leans in close to her district partner, laying her blade across his neck. She whispers something that I can't hear… and then she stands and dashes out of the room, leaving Cyrus on the floor.
I hold my breath. It's just me and him in the room now. I can hear his ragged breathing… his hitching breath. Is he crying?
A cannon fires, alerting Cyrus to his feet. He makes his way to the body of Shelby Leone, kneeling beside her with an unreadable expression on his face. He sighs, bowing his head for a moment. Then he reaches out, closes Shelby's eyes, and arranges her body in a more formal position.
He turns towards me. For a second, I think he's seen me, but he shuffles past my hiding spot and out the door without a second glance.
I'm alone. Again.
A gasping breath reminds me that only two cannons have fired. I finally emerge from my position and rush to Malek.
"Sharif-" he croaks, blood spurting from his shoulder.
"I'm sorry," I whisper, sitting beside him so he can see me without moving his head, "I'm so sorry, I was hiding and I didn't help you. I wish I could have but I was just… they were…"
The dragon roars again and I cringe, expecting it to finish me off as I sit by Malek. I have no chance against that thing. Yet again, it doesn't attack. It swoops down, grabbing Inaya and Shelby in its claws and flying off to who-knows-where.
"Don't leave me here." Malek feebly grabs at my tunic, smearing the cloth with blood.
"Oh. Yes, okay, of course. I'm not going anywhere." All I really have in common with Malek is that he was pleasant during training and he allied with my district partner. Inaya. Dead and gone. Some part of me is glad her body's been removed. I don't want the reminder. I don't.
But now it's Malek and me. And this is all I can do after being such a coward. I said I'd help Malek and Inaya after abandoning Loren, but I couldn't do anything during the fight. All I managed was a thump on the head and then I hid under a dead animal until everyone else was gone.
But I can sit with Malek now. If that's as helpful as I can be, so be it. He was kind to me. The least I can do is make sure he's not alone—or picked off by the dragon while he's still alive.
I awkwardly grasp his hand; he weakly squeezes mine in return. "I'm here. I'm not gonna leave you. I promise." I feel like I'm babbling, so I shut up.
I think Malek smiles, but I can't be sure. For a few moments I sit in solemn silence, listening to the breath rattle in his chest. It grows slower, shallower, until finally I can't see any movement. The muscles in his face go slack and the cannon fires.
Watching someone die is an odd feeling. It's different from watching someone be killed. Watching someone die… it's like watching all the pain leave them.
And I'm a coward. I couldn't actually do anything for Malek's pain. Just sit and watch. I'm useless. Everyone I've tried to help, even thought about getting close to, has died and I abandoned them to that fate.
But then again, I'm still alive. I may be useless to others, but I've gotten myself this far.
CYRUS AUGUSTIN, DISTRICT TWO MALE
I stumble through doors until I feel the breeze on my face. Where is this? Not the courtyard, but still outdoors. Not that it matters.
I sink to the ground, massaging the thin cut on my neck where Caelle nearly slit my throat.
She really almost killed me, huh? My own district partner. After all her talk of alliance. Her claims about my sense of loyalty. None of that stopped her from attacking me, slicing up my back—I pause to take in the searing sensation of the lacerations in my flesh—and doing her best to crush me completely.
But it did stop her from killing me. Give it a bit, you'll wish I had killed you here, she told me. She smirked as she said it, too, but that did seem forced. She wasn't able to follow through. She was never one to gloat like that… which means it must have been a bluff because she couldn't bring herself to finish me off.
Which means the next time I see her, I'll have the upper hand. Because there's no such thing as district loyalty anymore. No such thing as alliances, or trust, or mercy. Not at this point in the Games. And not after what Caelle did to Shelby.
I take a deep, shuddering breath, and as I exhale the tears start falling from my eyes. She didn't deserve that. She didn't deserve to die like that. I dropped her, literally dropped her on the floor as she died. I couldn't help her through the pain, I couldn't save her from Caelle's backstabbing. I wish she had never volunteered for the Games. Deep down, she knew it was a bad choice, but it was too late by then.
I'm glad we met but… it would have been better if we hadn't. I wouldn't be… feeling this way right now.
It was fucked up to make a friend. It's what I always do in any situation, but I shouldn't be here either. It should be stupid fucking Klaus being attacked by Caelle, not me. I should be at home with my brothers.
The only way out is through, but damn, I hate myself for this. The shit I've done in the last week…
I'm an idiot. I'm so stupid. For letting myself get suckered into this, for getting close to Shelby, for believing Caelle, for participating in this horrible fucking Games.
The only time I've ever had a clear view about what I'm doing here was when I woke up puking the morning of launch. That was the only time I saw through the bullshit, until now.
And now it's too late to protect myself from any of it. I got drawn in by the arena, the politics, and for what? So I could become a murderer?
The third cannon fires, reminding me that I'm a killer twice over now. It's not just Shark, it's Malek. And might as well be Shelby too, for all I was able to do for her.
When Malek came running at me, all I saw was a threat. Not another person. Just a threat to be taken out. And I did it without a second thought. Dealt the killing blow and left him to bleed out. I have no excuse for any of it. Coming to the Games made me just as bad as anyone else who's ever participated. No better than Shark. No better than any serial killer, honestly. I chose this.
And I went and made friends in the midst of it all. Shelby…
She's gone. She's really gone.
The tears dripping down my face turn into full-blown sobs. With her around, I could pretend it wasn't so bad. There was a connection, a familiar face, someone who could make it a little more lighthearted.
I push the memory of last night out of my head. She wasn't a romance or a hookup. She was a friend. A good one, for what it's worth. And I watched her die and dumped her helpless body on the ground. Without her, there's no hiding the reality of the Games.
There's no such thing as trust. Or relationships of any sort. Or loyalty. Connections were always futile. I was always going to lose everything with meaning. My allies were temporary. District loyalty was conditional. There's only survival, and the tributes who aren't brutal enough to make it.
Like Malek.
After Shark, I swore to only attack if I was threatened. Was Malek really a threat to me? I had no choice but to see him that way.
If I want to survive—to outlive Caelle, return home, apologize to my family and maybe punch Klaus in the face, honor Shelby's memory, and regain my humanity— there can be no conditions on what I'm willing to do. No 'only attack threats'. No 'be the bigger person'. None of that matters in here. There's no ethics in the Games. I was a fool for thinking otherwise. The only person who was ever really prepared for this was Shark, and I killed him in the bloodbath. Maybe Andros, but he's dead too. Because none of this is fair. If it was fair we wouldn't be fighting to survive. Kids from Two wouldn't be volunteering to kill.
How could they teach us that it was good and just? How could the Victors, who experienced this, come back and vouch for it?
I miss Shelby. She'd make some joke and we'd laugh and be able to forget the horror of it all.
But I saw her with hollow eyes and sallow skin and I know she's gone for good.
I dissolve into teary hiccups, and the jerky motion of my diaphragm makes me keenly aware of the pain from various cuts and injuries. I swipe my hands over my face, smearing away the tears and blood and grime. I can feel how disgusting I am. Eurgh.
Glancing around my surroundings, I wipe my hands in the grass to try and rid them of the remnants of combat. This odd little garden is far more manicured than the courtyard where I spent so much time, and there's a pond in the corner. Perfect. Maybe I can scrub myself clean of the last half hour. Or the last four days. Either way.
I drag myself to the pool and plunge my hands into the crystal-clear water. It's cool and refreshing, and I feel some shame at seeing dirt and blood and who knows what else swirl off my hands to pollute the water. It doesn't stop me from taking a long drink, though. I have to be past shame.
I try to imagine the water washing away my grief, but I barely start rubbing my hands together in the pond before there's a flash of light. I fall backward, lying prone and staring up at the sudden appearance of an apparition.
"Cyrus Augustin of District Two," says the glowing figure. My mind goes completely blank. It looks as though a woman made of rainbow light has just emerged from the water. There's no way. A hologram? A mirage? A hallucination?
"What- what are you?"
"I am the Lady of the Lake," she announces, spreading her robed arms in a grand gesture.
I nod, my mouth gone dry.
"You are the first tribute to touch the waters of this garden, and therefore you have summoned me. Cyrus, your courage has earned you great honor."
Sure it has. Sure. "I'm not courageous. I'm not honorable."
"Only the greatest of knights display modesty. Rise, Cyrus. In this water you will find a powerful weapon. Claim it for yourself."
I did leave my sword and mace in the great hall. I don't want to go back if the dragon's still there. I tentatively stand and peer into the pond. Sure enough, there's a huge broadsword in the shallow water. Never taking my eyes off the water lady, I reach and grab the heavy weapon.
"By carrying this sword, you will have the ability to summon great power one time."
"What power? How?"
She smiles cruelly. "To demonstrate your loyalty, you must offer your own blood to use the power of the sword. You owe sacrifice in order to obtain great rewards. When your blood touches the blade, you will receive a gift of great worth. To say more would be to damage the mystery and power."
I frown at the sword. Loyalty? No one has earned my loyalty. Everyone I considered myself loyal to either died or broke my trust. And the idea of some secret weapon the Capitol dreamed up to tempt me is a worrying thought at best.
"One more thing," the woman says, shimmering in the light. I nod. There's no point in refusing, is there?
The figure in front of me shifts and suddenly I'm looking at a watery image of Shelby. She grins her regular toothy grin. "Avenge me, will you?"
And then the water rushes down, the light flashes again, and in a split second I'm staring at a clear, flat pool with a sword in my hand.
Fuck that. Using my loss against me to… gall me? Spur my anger forward? No. No. Shelby wasn't just a pawn. She was a person. A real person who meant something to me against my better judgment.
I don't know if I want this sword or its so-called power. I don't know if I want any of it. I just want to get out of here.
The idea of victory is so tainted. I want to live, but I don't know if I want the reward. Just like with this sword, that has some special gift that can only be unlocked with blood. I'm not sure survival is worth the glory that comes after. The glory that's flaunted through all of District Two—it seems so hollow now.
But I'd rather grieve as a Victor than give up and die. That much I'm sure of.
And hopefully I won't need to spill any of my own blood to get through this, gift or no gift. The only blood I want to see belongs to the others.
8th: Inaya Stratton. Corey, thank you for your submission.
7th: Shelby Leone. Padraig, thank you for your submission.
6th: Malek Trevelian. Kevin, thank you for your submission.
The alternate chapter title was 'Strange Women Lying In Ponds'. Bonus sponsor points if you get that reference.
Well, we've gone from top 8 to top 5 in one chapter! Sorry not sorry that I misled you last chapter about who would be involved in this fight :) And we have just a few more Games chapters remaining! Thank you all for sticking around to read this story, it's been a lot of fun so far.
A couple questions that aren't going to be answered in-story that I thought you might be curious to know. Where did the dragon take the bodies? Out to the courtyard for the Gamemakers to collect. And where was Kepler? Honestly, the Gamemakers thought he'd be boring in a big fight so they didn't send the dragon after him.
Questions!
Final predictions for Victor?
What's up with the special sword?
Do you think victory would be worth it, or would you rather die in the arena?
Drop a review and let me know! I know for a lot of you life is getting busy again... but I do like keeping up with people via review. No pressure to catch up on past reviews either.