Lystra's POV

Kayton took me into a room. I suppose that it might have been a very nice room – nicer than mine at home, at least, but I didn't notice. I flung myself onto a couch, burying my face in a pillow. I wished I was in my room at home now, even if it was shabby. I did notice that Kayton locked the door behind her. Then she came and sat beside me on the couch.

"Lystra," she said after a moment, seemingly timid for once. "I . . . I thought that you might want to know . . . I made sure that this room isn't bugged."

I blinked the ever-present tears out of my eyes. "How?" I asked

There was a slight twinkle in Kayton's sad eyes. "I have my ways."

I remembered that this was what Nich had said on that day when she had told Totsie, Echo, and I her true identity. I began to cry again.

At first Kayton simply sat beside me awkwardly, patting my back, but when I looked up and saw tears in her own eyes, I collapsed into her arms. We both began crying, comforting the other as best we could, though we knew it was no good; we'd both still be sad.

The pictures came to me again.

Nich.

Totsie.

Echo.

Tanner.

Luna.

Elvatorix.

Carrie.

Armondo.

Lillibet.

All dead.

All gone.

And then there was me.

Still here.

Still alive.

And miserable because of it.

I was still crying in despair when I remembered Nich's final wish.

The letter.

I took it out slowly, tears still running silently down my face. Kayton's sobs, too, stopped when I brought out the letter. Slowly, I opened the letter.

Dear My Fellow Tribute,

I do not know who you are. But I do know that if you are reading this, I am dead, as is Mazie and the others. I do know that you are the winner of the 24th Hunger Games. And I do hope that you have enough sense to be reading this letter in a safe place, one that is not bugged.

So, firstly, I wish to offer my most sincere congratulations to you, winner of the 24th Hunger Games. I have spent my life, every day of it, watching the Games and its winners. Now I can tell you what comes next. It is living death. Forever, your life will be haunted with memories of me, Mazie and the others. Forever, you life will be a what-if. Forever you will be living, but dead.

Secondly, if you are reading this letter right now, there is a matter for us to settle – for me to inform you of, and for you to settle. It is the matter of the potion Mazie sent me shortly before she attempted to kill the President. Whether or not she succeeded I cannot tell you – this was written far before that moment.

But if you are reading this, she is dead, and so am I. The first plan was for me to drink the potion, Mazie to awaken me, and we to hide, forever safe, in the Capitol, the only two survivors of the 24th Hunger Games. But since we are both dead, you, along with another, have the chance to be those two in our place.

The bottle labeled 'poison' that I fed to the other was not truly poison, but truly just a strong sleeping potion that gives the appearance of death. There is a bottle that will wake them, hidden on the rooftop of the cage the kept us in before making us fight for our lives. If you are truly one of us tributes, you will know where it is hidden.

Then you must insist to attend all of our funerals. When you reach the district of the sleeping tribute, let them be buried. Mazie was going to get a wax figure of me to switch out, but you won't be able to get your hands on one. Instead, at night, you'll have to sneak out to the graveyard and dig the sleeping tribute up. Then feed them the potion and bury the coffin.

Then hide them on the train. When you come to your own district, hide them in your own home – not your new home, but your old one. You new one will be bugged. You both will be alive, and safe, even if you will be living a half-life.

One last bit of business.

If my father is dead, I say good riddance. May he be a better man in the next life. I am happy to be joining him.

If he is not dead, he needs to be. This matter lies in the hands of you and the sleeping one. I wish you good luck, for I may not help you here.

But if he is dead, there is still one problem.

My brother has been trained all his life to rule as my father did. My brother is a kind, innocent child, and I know he will be forced to fill my father's shoes. If you can, awaken the kindness in him. I beg of you – try to change him. Please.

Nich Snow

I stared a moment at the letter, trying to decipher the mysteries that lay inside of it. Kayton sat beside me, fidgeting slightly, reading the letter too.

"Rayne's alive?" I had meant it to be a statement, but it had come out a question, and I glanced at Kayton, looking for confirmation that I had read right; that I was not insane.

"Yes," she murmured slowly, wide-eyed "Lystra . . . what's going on?"

It was then that I remembered that Kayton didn't know about the drama that the 24th Hunger Games had held for us. Thinking of the others, my eyes teared up slightly, but when I spoke to tell Kayton all of the secrets so reverently held, my voice was steady.

It felt good to tell someone something. Kayton stared at me as I told, but when I was done, she only nodded and hugged me again, tightly.

Then we began to land. Outside, there was a whole army of cameras and reporters and others wanting to talk to me; to congratulate me; to console me. But right now, all that mattered was me and Kayton, sitting together, safe for the moment, in the room in the helicopter.