illyria fleetwood. 15.
day twelve in the arena.
88 add.
original placement: 3rd
Click.
Illyria whirled around, a shriek bubbling up in her throat, but no one was there.
She let out a trembling breath, forcing a smile. "It's nothing," she murmured. The door had just shut behind her. That was all.
You're okay, she imagined Archer reassuring her, his ghostly form making him invisible to Illyria right now.
"Sneakiest superspy," she whispered. "That's me."
The sneakiest superspy, Kyanna echoed, flying high above Illyria in her angel form, just out of sight.
Illyria squeezed the drill tightly in her hand, murmuring a few more assurances to herself as she continued through the next few rooms. Her grandmother had always been big on affirmations, and Illyria figured now was as good a time as any to use them.
"You know the maze better than anyone," she whispered. "You were down here for ages, you've been in this room twice… you're the most prepared superspy-"
Boom.
Illyria jumped, barely clapping her hand over her mouth in time to suppress a yelp.
Archer's voice came to her immediately. It's okay. Only two left now. You're almost at the end.
Illyria shook her head, rubbing her eyes with her free hand. "It's not okay. None of this is okay."
But it will be soon, Kyanna told her. Soon it'll be over. And you can go home.
Her eyes started to well up. "But you guys won't be-"
She knew what Archer's response would be even before he cut her off. I'm not going anywhere. But you are. You're going home, Illy.
(She closed her eyes. She tried to imagine the comfort of her own bed. Her shelf of storybooks. The smile lines around her grandmother's eyes. Her mother's tight hugs. Library books. The walking paths through the forest, well-worn by countless footsteps. Smoothing out her picnic blanket over lumpy grass.)
(She tried so hard to imagine it, but she couldn't- she'd never been able to- because she couldn't remember Seven without him. There had always been Archer, with his freckles and kind smile and hair that looked like fire in the sunlight, his smooth voice bringing every story to life in the ways she'd never been able to. He'd always been by her side, and now he was… he was gone…)
Illy?
She opened her eyes, now overflowing. "This is terrible," she whispered. "I wish you weren't a ghost. I wish I wasn't imagining both of you. I wish-"
It's okay, Archer replied. I don't mind. It… it was over quickly, and now I get to still be with you.
"But it's not real," Illyria wept. "It's all in my head. Both of you are just in my head, and I can't even imagine it right, and- and- and…"
Just because we're in your head doesn't mean we're not real.
"The telekinesis was in my head too- I'm so stupid-"
Illyria, Kyanna soothed, you're not stupid.
And it is real, Archer said. Kyanna and I, we both lived. And we loved you. And we're still here with you, just in a different way. That's always been real.
Illyria swiped at her tears.
Both of us know, Archer said gently, that all of those things are true.
She nodded. She couldn't deny it.
I died. I didn't stop loving you.
Illyria buried her head in the crook of her free arm. "Archer…"
Neither did I, Kyanna said.
So let us stay. Keep going. Make it home, Archer told her.
"But what about you?"
Let's make sure there's another chapter to this story first.
"Okay," Illyria whispered. "Okay."
She pulled her head back up and wiped away her tears again. She rubbed her damp palms on the dirty skirts of her forest green dress that she still sort of loved, even though it was beyond ruined after wearing it for nearly two weeks. Then she stepped toward the nearest door.
It was locked.
Try another one, Kyanna said.
Illyria turned- there were two more doors in this room, excluding the one she had arrived through. She tried another handle and found it locked again. The final door, however, swung open silently.
Illyria tried to use her best superspy thinking. "The doors have never been locked before," she mused. "And I was down here for days."
She walked into the next room and found the same outcome- every knob was locked except one, now including the one that she had come in through. And the same thing happened in the next room, and the room after that.
"It's guiding me," Illyria whispered. "The maze wants me to go somewhere."
I think you're right, Illy, Archer said.
Kyanna agreed. Be careful.
Illyria nodded and started traveling through the maze much more slowly, taking care to make sure every barefoot step was silent. She didn't know how much time passed this way. She became lost in focus, one silent step after the other. Turning each doorknob painstakingly slowly. Praying the hinges wouldn't squeak.
And then the silence was gone.
Goosebumps ran up Illyria's bare arms. "Is that…"
The other two must be fighting, Kyanna said.
"They're screaming very loud," Illyria whispered. "I… do I keep going? I think… I don't want to interrupt…"
Waiting it out seems like a good idea, Archer said.
"I'm not getting between that," Illyria agreed. "I'll, um, I'll… sit tight…"
She leaned against the wall and tried not to listen to the sounds of the fight. It seemed that she was still a few rooms away, but the battle between the other tributes rang through the walls anyway. Illyria knew logically that she had spent much more time walking through the maze than waiting for this fight to end, but with the screams in her ears, the minutes seemed to grind to a halt.
"It's so loud," she whispered, plugging her fingers in her ears.
They're hurting each other very much.
Illyria peered upwards, searching for her angel. "Can you see them?"
Almost. But I'd prefer not to look.
"That makes sense," Illyria replied, flinching as another shout pounded through the walls. Every time she thought it had stopped, the noises would start up again.
But gradually, the screams began to weaken.
And then, finally, to her relief-
Boom.
Are you ready? Archer asked.
Illyria shook her head. "Never. But I have to go now, don't I?"
Yes, Kyanna answered. But we're right here with you.
Illyria took a deep breath, swallowing her fear as best she could, and continued forward. This time she made quicker work of passing through the rooms, guessing the unlocked doors faster as she followed the path to where the sounds had come from.
She reached for the next door handle, pulling it open with a shaking hand, and knew she could never unsee what laid before her.
(The room must have been beautiful, once. But no more.)
The tiles of the floor, which had once been black and white, were now slathered red. Illyria didn't understand how there was so much blood everywhere. There were weapons on the floor, a knife and a sword, and they were stained, too. Furniture had been shoved aside and smashed.
And there were two bodies.
One, nearer to her, was still. Illyria didn't recognize him, but she wasn't sure if that was because they'd never met or because his face had been ruined beyond repair. His head was tilted towards her and was gushing blood, obscuring what color his eyes and hair were supposed to be; there was a long gash in his neck, too, and the hand that laid palm-up had each finger pointing in a different direction. The tiles around him were drenched with red, she noticed and he was still bleeding as the redness continued to zigzag through the cracks where the tile met. His chest, perhaps mercifully, was still.
The second body was not still. He laid, heaving, several feet away, struggling to catch his breath. There was a hole in his chest and a deep wound in his leg, and he was bleeding from countless other places as well, but Illyria had no trouble recognizing him. They'd met for the second time only yesterday.
Before she could stop herself, she spoke. "Lio?"
His head rolled towards her, the skin around his eyes and mouth tight with pain. "I… Illyria?"
Be careful, Archer urged.
Illyria yanked up her green skirts with one hand and began to tiptoe towards him, avoiding the first body and the puddles on the floor for fear of slipping. She clutched her drill tightly, but Lio made no moves towards her. He just kept breathing too quickly.
She stopped several feet away, brandishing her drill. "It's just the two of us now."
"Is it… now." Lio blinked slowly.
Illyria didn't move. "I think we're supposed to fight now."
Lio continued panting, a small river pouring down the side of his bare chest. "I… I can't…"
"You can't what?"
"I can't… get up," Lio said, his chest heaving. "I- I can't… breathe…"
Against her better instincts, Illyria took a step closer. "Are you trying to trick me?"
Lio didn't respond. Instead, he raised a shaking hand and pressed it to his chest with a wince. He didn't respond when she nudged him with her foot, either.
"Lio, we have to fight," Illyria said, trying not to sound desperate. "Stop… stop pretending."
"Not pretending," he muttered, so quiet Illyria could barely hear him. "It's all real. Why… when did it… start raining?"
"It's not raining," Illyria replied, confused. "Lio?"
He closed his eyes for a long moment.
"Lio?"
He opened them again. "Can't… breathe."
Illyria stepped closer, crouching down beside him. Now that she had a better look, she could make out how deep the hole in his chest was. It was deep.
Too deep.
"Oh, no," she murmured.
He shuddered, trying to draw in another breath. "Illyria?"
"I'm right here."
He blinked. "I can't breathe…"
"It's okay," she said, ignoring the feeling of his blood seeping between her toes. "Tell me about the… the rain?"
He gasped for another breath. "It's… raining again…"
"Again?"
"Always rain…"
Illyria put her hand on his, the one trying to hold back the wound. "It's okay," she said, sounding more sure of herself than she sounded.
"No… I lost… her… and… your friend… I…"
"Shhh," Illyria interrupted. "You already said you were sorry. And I forgive you, remember?"
"I'm… sorry…"
"Who is she?" she asked, partially trying to distract him and partially curious.
"She… I let her… go…" He closed his eyes again.
"Was it raining?"
"Storming…"
"Is it…" Illyria hesitated, trying to think of how best to comfort him.
(Because he was dying. She knew that for certain. He hadn't even tried to fight. And if Illyria could help him, could make these Games a tiny bit less horrible, she would do that. If she could be kind, she would always choose kindness.)
But she didn't have time to think for long, so she didn't let herself. "Is it storming again right now?"
He shuddered again, his breathing light and quick and raspy. "Yes."
"I think," Illyria told him, "that means she's coming back."
He finally opened his eyes again, his gaze so intense Illyria almost looked away. "Lyre?"
"Yes. Lyre."
"She's…"
"She's coming back for you," Illyria whispered, trying to smile through the tears starting to gather in her eyes once more. She remembered how she had soothed Kyanna and reached for that instinct again. She tried to remember the little information he'd told her yesterday. "It's been so long, but don't worry. She's your best friend. She's coming back for you."
"I… I let her…"
"Best friends forgive each other," Illyria said, her throat tight.
(She could feel Archer's ghost hovering at her side.)
"She knows you're sorry. It's okay. She knows," she whispered, almost choking on the words.
Lio's eyes were glassy, but they were still fixed on Illyria. "She's coming?"
"Through the storm," Illyria promised. "She'll be here any second. She's- she's sorry too, about what happened, and she missed you, too."
(She could almost imagine Archer's ghostly hand on her shoulder.)
"Lyre…" Lio struggled.
"She's coming," Illyria told him. "She lived, and she loved you, and she's been here all along. It's just been a terrible storm, so it took her a long time. But she never stopped trying. She never stopped caring about you. And she'll come get you, and everything will be okay."
She squeezed his hand. He reached for her fingers, both of their hands slippery with blood, and she wove his fingers in his.
"Just hold on for a moment longer," she whispered. "The storm will pass."
He closed his eyes again. Illyria swallowed hard as his breathing continued to shallow.
(She had witnessed too much death, and it had never become easier.)
"Lyre," he whispered.
Illyria squeezed his hand again, but he didn't squeeze back. He exhaled and went still.
Boom.
Illyria finally let herself burst into tears, weeping over the body of this dead boy who had killed her best friend, who had maybe become her friend, whose name was bittersweet on her tongue, whose blood was sticky between her fingers and her toes. She wept for her angel-sister and her ghost-friend who she still could not see, no matter how hard she tried, her friends dead everywhere except for her imagination, whose love was always real but whose deaths were, too. She cried despite the lack of injuries on her person or kills she had made. She let herself mourn, ignoring the announcement listing the dead or herself as the Victor.
Because she was not a Victor. She had not won anything. All she had done in these Games was lose- her friends, her ignorance, her innocence.
So she mourned it all.
Illyria curled in on herself and cried until the tears once again ran dry. She cried until there was nothing left. Then the hovercraft came for her, and she let it take her away from the arena.
This chapter of her life, mercifully, had ended.
It was time to go home and begin another.