Day 5, Part 2:

Stepping into the Sponsorship Office was like entering a hospital. In the split second it took to cross the threshold, the brilliant colors and flashy lights disappeared, replaced by somber white walls and drab blue couches. Low whirring and keyboard taps lingered distantly in the air, submerged in reticent ambient music. A screen in the corner showed the latest Games footage without sound, a live feed of three girls standing off in the brutal desert heat. Even the two landscape paintings facing each other from opposite ends of the room could do little to salvage the atmosphere.

Rusk stood behind the counter, staring at the "Ring for Service" bell as if it would eat his finger should he dare press the little button on top, though the vacant seat on the other side dared him repeatedly. Maybe this all was intentional. Maybe they preferred victors to complete their money transfer electronically instead of dealing with them in person. He wouldn't blame them for that. He wouldn't have come here either if he hadn't had to.

His holoscreen buzzed. It did that a lot nowadays, more than he was used to. Darah, wanting to meet tomorrow to discuss concrete actions. As he fumbled around with a response (he'd never quite gotten used to the strange arrangements of letters on the keyboard), he forced himself to slow down, to give whoever was supposed to come as much time as possible. He hit send; he returned it to his pocket. Still no one here.

With the clock ticking, he reached towards the bell. His hand hovered over it before he retracted, glancing at the "Employee Only" door as if it would summon someone to save him from his ridiculous predicament. Though the other Nines had to be at their sponsor meeting by now, he still turned his gaze out the window, just in case they or a certain green-haired former prep team member happened to have followed him here. Particularly the latter. He preferred to not be asphyxiated, please and thank you.

Instead, when the entrance clicked open, Avisa entered. She glanced over the room before giving him a confused look.

"No one's here," he said, grinning sheepishly. He gestured vaguely towards the empty chair.

"Then let's fix that." She pressed the button three times and raised her voice. "Hey! There are people waiting out here."

"T-Thanks, I guess."

"What are you doing here? Didn't you already lose your kid?"

"Gotta take care of his funds," he said. "But I have to be here to explain why I'm sending the money out of the district."

She raised an eyebrow. "I see."

"You?"

"Just hoping to wrangle a few extra denarii out of them. The boy needs medicine."

"You can do that?"

"Never hurts to try," she said, tiredness seeping into her voice. "He might be the most stuck-up douche I've ever seen, but a mentor's gotta do what a mentor's gotta do."

He grunted a reply as the employee door finally opened and a woman in all pink rushed in, apologizing profusely while she logged into the system on the screen behind the counter. Though Avisa gave her an unamused look, he insisted that "everything's fine" and that there was "no rush at all."

"Sorry again," the woman said, still giggling. Jacquie, according to her name tag. "I'm new here; I'm still figuring everything out. What can I do for you today?"

"I'm Rusk Flanders, mentor of Mati Strye. Could I have his funds sent to Yggdrasil Kane of District Eleven?"

"Could you please look at the retina scanner for a moment?" she said, one hand operating the scanner and another tapping the screen. "Perfect. Identity verified. Was it District Eleven, you said?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Um… there's no alliance listed, Mr. Flanders. Are you sure this is right?"

"I'm sure," he said, wringing his hands behind the counter. "It's possible, right?"

She looked up at him, all nervous smiles. "I think so, if you can prove a reasonable connection. But I haven't handled something like this before; I'd have to ask my supervisor and she's not here right now."

"Should I come back later?" he said. Of course, the other Nines would probably be nearby then, but what other option did he have?

She glanced at the calendar. "You can, in the next two days. Because the money's gonna go to Clarke then."

"Can I delay that?"

"Only if you can prove that Clarke is an inadequate recipient, but…" She gave him a sympathetic smile. "That always gets so much bad press and I really don't think it's worth it."

He bit his lip. "Give me a second."

"How about this?" Her fingers danced across the screen. "If you can explain the situation to me, I'll let my supervisor know when she gets here, and you won't have to come back."

"That's perfect. Thanks," he said, smiling. He hoped he wasn't giving her too much pressure. "Mati didn't have any official allies, but he spent a lot of training time with Yggdrasil. I'm pretty sure it's on the cameras if you need proof."

The girl's fingers flew over the keyboard, much faster than he could ever dream of. "Anything else?"

He vaguely heard Avisa whisper his name, but he continued. "Mati also didn't get along with Clarke and she's the default option," he said. "I figured this would be more appropriate. What he'd want."

"Rusk." Avisa's voice was firmer this time.

"What?"

She pointed up at the screen. He'd barely made out the faces of Clarke, Virginia, and Yggdrasil when Clarke slammed her gauntlet into Iggy's head.

Iggy had only been watching Ellis' district partner. When the Eight girl had reached into her bag; a grateful song had begun to unfurl in Iggy's soul. For once, it hadn't been to Her. It'd been to Mati, to Ellis, to Sos, to everyone whose kindness had sustained her thus far.

Then sudden force struck, and everything turned red.

A scream burst from Virginia's throat as Clarke lunged, the sound joined by the poor Eleven girl's terrified pleas for mercy.

It couldn't be. It couldn't.

"No!" she yelled, scrambling over. "Clarke, stop!"

"Stay back!"

Virginia grabbed the girl's shoulder. Immediately metal slammed into her face and her grip released. She stumbled back, blood dripping from her nose, catching only a feverish glance from Clarke before the girl turned back on Eleven.

She plugged her ears, but Eleven's frenzied screaming pierced her mind all the same, pursuing her frayed nerves and squeezing the sanity out of them. Was this what Ellis had felt as he watched her kill the Five boy? Had her sins caught up to her at last?

She couldn't tear her eyes away from the carnage, the little glimpses she got between Clarke's punches. It wouldn't have been right for her to avoid seeing the violence, the system she'd so willingly submitted herself to.

Hadn't she tried to change? To stop her own descent into violence? Her hand had been on the water bottle when Clarke moved in; she'd finally made the right choice after days of murder and monstrosity.

None of that had mattered. Too little, too late. She'd never had a chance at redemption after all.

The screaming became sobbing, and the sobbing became whimpering. Only after the girl had fallen silent did Clarke step away from the body. Blood splattered all over the Eleven girl's head, which had been bashed in and dented like a monster out of a horror movie.

Virginia tasted bile. Just a moment ago, the girl had been alive, begging them for just a little water. She'd been Ellis' friend. Virginia had been ready with the water, poised to fulfill the girl's request, finally determined to do the right thing instead of spilling more blood to further stain her hands.

Now the girl was gone. Only her mangled body remained, and as Virginia stared, a righteous fury welled up inside.

A cannon sounded.

Clarke stumbled back from the body, panting for air. District Six no longer whispered in her head; she'd silenced the witch. She couldn't look at the dead girl before her. Though she wiped her bloody gauntlets on the ground, the sand did little to clean off the red.

No longer did anyone have grounds to call her weak, to call her pathetic. She'd destroyed any and all hesitation with every blow of her gauntlets. Clarke hoped Six was angry as she burned for eternity, unable to get in the last word because she was dead. Dead and gone, just like she deserved.

Clarke had won. Then why did she feel dead inside? She turned to Virginia, as if the girl would have answers for her, to save her from her crumbling soul the way the girl had saved her from the crumbling tower.

No such luck. Virginia glared at her with a new darkness in her eyes, breathing heavily. She looked as if she was crying. Clarke suddenly found her mouth dry.

"How could you?" Virginia said. "Just—I-I was going to give her water and—"

Clarke gulped as her heart twinged. "I-It's the Hunger Games."

"What did she ever do to you?"

"Virginia, no—"

The girl pointed a finger at her. "All she wanted was a little water. She was helpless and you killed her!"

She could feel a dread coming on. But she grit her teeth, hoping to force it away. "It's all the same, right?" Her voice was shakier than she'd hoped; she raised her voice. But she couldn't stop the quiver in her lip. "You killed the Five boy. I killed the Eleven girl. You think one of them matters more?"

"No! It's all wrong. We're all wrong. All the killing and violence and—" The girl choked back an angry sob. "We can't do this anymore. We have to stop."

"Speak for yourself," Clarke said, as the little voice in her head echoed Virginia's every word. She hoped she could shut it up with enough noise. "It's not our fault we have to do this; we're just doing what we need to survive."

"You don't really believe that." Virginia's voice turned cold. "You're lying to yourself; you know better than—"

"Shut up!" Clarke roared. "Can't you see? It's all the Capitol's fault. They've taken everything from us—and you want to blame me? How could you!"

"That's not how it—"

"You just can't accept that you don't have what it takes," she said, breathing heavily. "You're not a victor."

A shadow fell over them. A hovercraft had appeared among the clouds, here to collect the corpse. The sound of its engines was peppered with Virginia's sniffling as tears streamed down her face.

"Maybe not being the victor is the right thing," Virginia said. Her voice shook as another round of tears poured forth. "Maybe it's the human thing."

Clarke bristled. The girl had some nerve to act like she had the moral high ground. "Stop talking."

"I wish I didn't save you," Virginia shot back. She shook her head. "I should've let you die."

A pit opened up in Clarke's gut. "So what are you gonna do?" she said. "Kill me now? 'Cause I'm worthless to you?"

"Your words, not mine." The girl turned away. She rubbed her eyes before setting them towards the distance. "We're done. May the odds be ever in your favor."

Clarke had half a mind to run after the girl, the one that'd saved her, the one that'd stuck by her since the first day of the games, no matter how she'd treated her. She suddenly wished she hadn't brushed the girl's comforting hand away early that morning, but she wouldn't ever get another chance.

She didn't move. She couldn't move. It'd be admitting weakness, that Virginia had been right. And she couldn't do that, not when agreeing with the girl would mean an end to her destiny.

Once again, she was alone. Just as she deserved.

Navarro hadn't realized he'd fallen asleep until the sharp jolt of pain awakened him. The single pill they'd found in the corner of the first aid kit had numbed the pain enough for him to fall asleep, but now a fire had engulfed his lower abdomen and he gritted his teeth so hard he was afraid he'd shatter his jaw. That Seven boy could go die in a fire, as far as he was concerned. Navarro could still see the teasing glint in the boy's eye as he dangled the water out of reach; he could still hear the dehumanizing taunts of "Here, boy!"

He'd fought many a man before, but he'd never quite thirsted for someone's death until now. That was the worst part. Without a miracle, he'd never get a shot in this state. Azolla had confirmed that he might not even make it long enough.

Azolla.

Her name was already halfway out his mouth before he silenced himself—he wouldn't be able to run if anyone found him. Instead, he whipped his head around. Though it aggravated the burning heat under the bandage, he pushed himself up the wall until he sat straighter with a better view of the silent room. She hadn't left him, had she? She wouldn't—she'd told him she wouldn't leave!

Maybe he'd said too much. He'd been an idiot for rambling on about himself to her, as if she had any reason to care about him and the idiot things that happened inside his idiot head, especially after his idiot self had nearly gotten himself killed breaking a promise he'd made! He shouldn't have let his guard down; he'd been delirious from shock, unable to stop the flow of words that had flowed out before he'd even realized it.

All he'd wanted was to prove he was good enough, strong enough. Somehow he'd only done the very opposite.

When footsteps approached, he immediately shot his head up, trying to see the door over the counter. Then Azolla's curls appeared in frame and relief washed over him like a tidal wave.

"What are you doing!" she whispered. "Get down!"

He immediately shrunk back. "I woke up and saw you were gone and I panicked. I thought maybe you left or, or—"

"I said I wouldn't leave," she said, shaking her head. "Our backpack is still here too."

"Oh." He bit his lip, head slightly bowed.

She handed him the water bottle. "You need it."

"No, I don't—"

"I don't want to hear it." She closed his hand around it. "You're not dying under my care."

"Fine, Nurse Majuli."

"You're such a difficult patient sometimes."

He raised an eyebrow, downing a gulp of water. "Only sometimes?"

"Only sometimes." She smiled. "Relax. I'm not leaving. I promise." He half-expected to hear a follow-up comment about how some people's words could actually be trusted. But Azolla was still Azolla.

"Look, I didn't know what I was saying," he said. "I was freaking out; I didn't mean it."

She frowned. "What?"

"You know, when you were trying to clean the wound."

Her voice fell, just a little. "You didn't mean it?"

"It was a mistake."

She looked away. He stared at her—now what was up with her? Now he'd upset her and he still had no idea what was going on. He hoped she wouldn't change her mind and leave now. It was bad enough that he'd screwed everything up this morning. Perhaps this would be the final straw.

How pathetic he was! If the Navarro of two weeks ago had heard current-Navarro think, he would've tried to knock some sense back into him. At what point had he developed such a debilitating dependency? He didn't know when, but it'd happened for sure. He couldn't bear the thought of her leaving; he didn't know how he'd live if she weren't here—and not just because he physically depended on her first-aid skill. Even now he had to work to stop looking at her.

Pathetic, in every way. But he didn't mind it quite as much as he used to.

Ever since the cannon, Ellis had been on edge. There was always the off-chance that it could've been a trained tribute, but it probably hadn't, more likely than not. And with the dwindling number of untrained tributes, there was a very real possibility of it being Iggy.

He peered out the window on the third floor of the concrete tower, overlooking the courthouse where the Star Alliance had set up camp. Maybe it'd been a death wish for him to come here, but last he saw her, she'd been captured by the Star Alliance. If she was alive, she probably wasn't here anymore, but where else would he start searching for her? If he went the wrong way, he could circle the Arena for days and still not find her.

Of course, if the cannon had been for her, then all was lost. But he didn't know it was her. It could've been anyone. Maybe Virginia or her ally, or the Twelve boy, or one of the Fours. Earlier in the day, he'd heard fighting and shouting from the far side of the courthouse. It clearly hadn't been Iggy; maybe whoever had gotten in a fight with the Star Alliance had finally succumbed to their injuries.

Or not. Iggy might be dead.

He couldn't let himself think like that. He had to act as though she were still alive—because she might be, for all he knew! All he had to do was stay positive, and everything would work out. It had to. Things always did.

Maybe she was locked in the courthouse, somewhere he'd never see from up here. Or there might be clues strung around the place as to her whereabouts. He wondered how heavily guarded the base was; there were at least two of them from the voices he'd heard this morning. The property was large. If they only had two on watch, he might be able to slip through their gaps.

He stepped away from the window, out of view from the ground. With a shaky hand, he allowed himself another drop from the water the Four girl had given him, saving some for Iggy. He considered eating a candy for the sugar rush, but he figured it would only make him thirstier, though he looked at it longingly.

He ate one anyway. He never was good at saying no to sugar.

Trying not to shake, he tiptoed down the stairwell until both of his feet were planted on solid ground, though the stairs continued even further down into darkness. He ducked from shadow to shadow, straining his eyes to divert his thoughts away from the terror coursing through his veins. He paused in the doorway to search every direction for signs of other tributes. If Iggy was in the courthouse, it'd all be worth it.

Suddenly, a sharp laugh rattled him. The Two girl, somewhere out there, somewhere nearby.

Knees wobbling, he backed away from the street towards the stairs again, paranoid of making noise with every step. Her laugh was followed by the One boy's terrifyingly calm voice, jarring against the backdrop of nationally sanctioned murder.

How had Iggy felt in there, with the group of fierce trained murderers? How had she survived?

The voices were closer now. He glanced up the stairs and then down into the darkness. He didn't have their speed or their stamina, not enough to make a run for it and escape. He didn't have the strength to fight a single one of them head-on and win, much less a whole group of them.

He stared into the darkness, wondering if anything was staring back at him. Then he heard the Two girl's voice again—this one a shout, as if they'd spotted someone—and he stumbled into the darkness.

Thankfully, the stairwell was next to the wall, even down in the basement. He felt along the concrete, stepping just far enough into the darkness to avoid the beams of light coming down from above. The shouts didn't immediately follow him; he must not have been spotted. So he allowed himself to silently exhale and inhale through his mouth, still straining his ears towards whatever might be happening up there, though he was met with only silence.

Perhaps they'd passed by.

Shuffling from above. Coming towards the stairwell. He nearly jumped out of his skin when discreet rustles pierced the dead silence; he took another step into the darkness as a boot appeared on the stairs, quickly joined by another, descending the stairs, punctuated by an occasional sniffle.

His pounding heart slowed, just a tad bit. At least this wasn't the Star Alliance.

The intruder's hands came into view, then the vest. It felt like an eternity before a girl's tear-streaked face appeared, her hair tied back in a bun.

"Virginia?"

At the sound of her name, Virginia burst into sobs again. There was only one person left in the Arena the voice could belong to, and it was the one person she'd failed the most, the one she didn't dare face. If she'd known he'd be here, she wouldn't have come down here, even with the Careers searching for her above. She bowed her head as her hands covered her face, smearing tears everywhere.

"Oh my gosh," Ellis whispered. "What happened?"

"I'm… s-so sorry," she choked out between sobs. "I'm sorry. I'm just.. so s-sorry."

She could feel his eyes on her, but there was nothing she could do. If he chose to kill her in revenge for his ally, she wouldn't have been able to stop him. Though even if she had the strength, she didn't know if she could fight back, not when death was exactly what she deserved.

"Are you alone?" he asked. His voice was strained. Hints of the easygoing kindness simmered below the surface, but it was largely overwhelmed by the weariness of sorrow.

She nodded, still wiping her eyes. "Clarke's gone. D-Don't worry. I won't hurt you. I'm just so, so sorry…"

He stepped into the light, his hands, arms, face smeared with dust. His warm eyes now contained a sadness, like he'd cried and cried until his tears ran out yet they couldn't stop crying. Only thing worse than that was the knowledge that she'd done it to him. She'd killed his ally. And she'd watched from the sidelines as Clarke killed his other friend too.

Who was she to approach him?

"I'll leave," she said. She turned her feet, she sniffled. "You probably don't want me around, and I get it."

"You don't have to."

There it was. He hadn't changed. She didn't deserve to stay, not when she'd changed so much.

"I really should go," she said. "It's… It's not right for me to stay."

A deep breath from Ellis. "Please don't go."

She turned back around. He put his arms around her; she folded in his embrace as tears sprung up again. He rested his head on her shoulder. He cried too, his arms around her shaking with every sob that rang in her ears. Regret welled up inside. She'd made such a mess; she'd become such a monster. Now it was too late.

She should've stayed with him from the beginning.

The sun was nearing the horizon when Eros spotted the returning hunters. He glanced back inside. Sostonio remained in his chair, where he'd been almost the entire day, while Adair must've gone back out the back door, probably up to no good. But Eros was fine with that; he needed the Seven boy out of earshot for now.

He stood up and waved. "Any luck?"

"No." Ili shrugged. "But it was a good day. Right, guys?"

Ven nodded. Nevaeh smiled, but it paled in comparison to the energy still radiating from Ili's grin.

"It was good," Ili said, as if trying to compensate for her companions' lack of enthusiasm.

As they approached the door, he grabbed Ili's arm as the other two entered. Nevaeh gave him a funny look, but he shrugged and smiled, making a wacky face at her. Though she didn't smile, she sharply exhaled through her nose and turned away. He supposed it was close enough.

"What's up?" she asked. "I'm starving."

He allowed the smile to ease off his face. "We have a problem."

"Are you and Adair having problems getting along?" She scoffed, though worry lingered in her eyes. "C'mon. Didn't I tell you to have a great day?"

"I found Adair working with other tributes today," he whispered. "I think he's been betraying us this whole time."

She narrowed her eyes. "Are you sure?"

His gut shifted uneasily. Wasn't she supposed to be on his side? "I saw him with my own eyes. I went out back and found him with the Fours, giving them water. I think the deal fell through because then they started fighting."

"You're kidding, right?"

"I'm serious," he said in earnest. He hadn't anticipated convincing Ili to go so poorly. "The water bottle broke during the fight, so they knocked him out and ran away before I could catch them."

She furrowed her brow. "I don't get it."

"What about it? I saw it with my own eyes."

"Nevaeh said that she really trusts Adair, and I don't think she would lie to me."

"You think I would lie to you?"

"Of course not!" She threw up her hands. "Something's just not adding up."

He sighed. "Go check our water supply. We're missing a whole gallon. You can find the broken pieces out back."

"Okay, okay. I believe you."

"Then we have to do something," he said. "We can't just let him slowly destroy us."

"It's just…"

He looked into her eyes. "We're still the power team, right?"

"Of course."

"It's getting really hard to tell," he said. He sighed. "I get you want all of us to be friends and all, but we have to make priorities. These are the Hunger Games."

She averted her eyes. "I know."

"Eventually, they're going to turn on us. But we won't ever turn on each other, right?"

She shook her head. "Never. I remember."

He smiled. They'd sworn it to each other during their Selection Ceremony, when the two of them had officially been chosen to represent District Two in this year's Hunger Games.

"That's a relief," he said. "I was starting to think you'd forgotten."

"I won't ever forget." Her expression had sombered too. "I promise."

Ven called from inside. "Guys, the food's been ready."

Ili winked at Eros as her stomach growled; she ran in after Ven. Perhaps she wasn't as enthusiastically supportive as he'd hoped, but at least she wouldn't get in his way. With a saunter in his step, he entered the courtroom, chin held high. Ili gave him a funny look; he whispered for her to trust him.

"You guys, I'd like to press charges against Adair," he said. He shot the Seven boy a dirty look. "Guilty of conspiring with other tributes against the alliance."

Ven watched from the corner as Eros announced his charges to the rest of the room. Immediately, his eyes shot over to Sos. If anyone could tell him what was going on, it was the Ten boy, but Sos returned Ven's questioning stare with both his hands up, just as confused as Ven was.

He didn't like this. It had Eros written all over it, and Ven didn't trust anything Eros had dabbled in. Purely in context of past games, he supposed this could be an attempt to take out the Sevens and Tens, the way past Star Alliances had done, but there was no way Ili would agree to a plot like that, if she really did care about Nevaeh the way she seemed to.

Why did he care so much about the Tens, anyway? He'd known when he signed up that every other person's well-being had to take second-place to his own, that it was do or die and death wasn't an option, especially with his precarious position of having lost his district partner. Yet Sos was too good for this. Sooner or later, the Ten boy would have to go. Ven just hoped it would be later.

Nevaeh rose, her eyes narrowed. "What's the evidence?"

"You'll see in court," Eros said, arms folded. "When can we start? Tonight?"

Nevaeh protested, and an argument broke out in the room. Though all of it, Adair remained suspiciously silent, almost dismissive, as if this wasn't concerning to him at all. Ven looked to Ili next, but her face had settled into uncharacteristic solemnity. What had Eros said to her earlier? How much had he missed? One slight overlook, and now the alliance was going to crumble?

He'd spent all day paying attention to Nevaeh and her new sudden trust in Adair; he'd taken his eyes off Eros. Part of him wondered how Sos didn't know a thing, but he figured that being wounded in the thigh severely limited one's ability to keep an eye on things. He glanced between Ili and Sos. His heart beat ever faster as their silence continued.

"Hey, guys." He cleared his throat. "I think we're moving a bit fast. This is a pretty big deal. We should wait until tomorrow."

Sos smiled gratefully; Nevaeh concurred. Ili nodded. Adair raised an eyebrow in amusement. Eros glared back, but Ven ignored him.

"Then we'll do it first thing in the morning," Ili said.

"Should we pick prosecution and defense tonight?" Nevaeh said. A calculated twinkle appeared in her eye. Suddenly, Ven wasn't sure if she could be trusted either. "So that the prosecution and defense have time to come up with their statements?"

Eros raised his hand. "I'm prosecuting."

"What if the marble is for someone on prosecution or defense?" Sos said.

Nevaeh gave him a look. "We'll figure it out. Anyone volunteer for defense?" She quickly looked around the room before extending her hand towards Ili. "¿Por favor? Pretty please?"

Ili tossed her the bag of marbles. "Should we take Adair's marble out?"

Nevaeh glanced at Adair, who shrugged back at her. "He obviously can't be judge, but I guess he has a choice if we pull his marble for prosecution."

"Isn't that special treatment?" Eros said. "You can't give him special options in a court of law."

Her dismissive glance fluttered over him. "Good thing this isn't a court of law then. We were just a group of friends until someone decided to ruin it all."

Ven sighed, resting his head in his hands.

Ili stepped between the two. "Please, stop it. What's up with everyone today?"

"Can't you see how she's trying to tilt the odds in his favor?"

"I am not—"

"Obviously you are—"

"Come on, guys!"

Ven rose; he stepped forward. "I'll defend Adair." He couldn't be less invested in the slimy Seven boy, but if it would stop the arguing, he'd take the job. "Discussion over."

A bag of marbles in one hand. An extra red one in her other hand, one she'd reserved for such a time as this. Sos' color. Nevaeh maintained her firm smile though the very sight of Eros Worshire was enough to get her blood pumping. What was his game anyway?

Whatever it was, she'd play to win. Good thing his strategy looked straightforward enough. Eliminate Adair, the most standoffish member of the alliance. Isolate her and Sos from the traditional, inner-district tributes. At that point, it'd really be three against one with Sos' wounded thigh—but he would've already been hesitant, with or without an injury. Seemingly a foolproof plan, if he could get it to work.

Good thing she'd been the one to originally find the marbles, then. A little rigging of the odds never hurt anyone.

Adair stared at her with a knowing grin. She cocked her head; he pointed to his closed fist and winked. She narrowed her eyes. The extra red marble seemed to burn a hole in her hand. He had better not say anything—this was for him.

"Hey, can I get the marbles back?" Ili said. "Since you don't need them anymore, right?"

Nevaeh glanced at Ven. He was trying to be helpful; she knew he was. But she'd banked on switching in the replacement while she pulled a marble for defense.

She forced a smile. "Oh, of course. But actually, could you—"

"Hey!" Adair called from the other side of the room. He winked at her. "Don't forget to remove the green one!"

"Right! Por favor, hermana. Just give me a moment…"

As she dug around for the green marble, she slipped in the extra red one and plucked out the purple, hiding it in her palm as she publicly removed the green, showing it to the room. Five marbles remained inside, just as before. Except now, the judge position would either go to Sos or herself. She appreciated the Two girl; she really did. But she also knew Ili wouldn't be able to tell a true fact from bull scrap if it came out of Eros' mouth, and losing Adair was too big of a risk for Nevaeh to gamble on.

With a smile, she returned the leather pouch. She glanced at Sos. Ridges still covered his forehead; he suspected nothing. But that was fine. What he didn't know wouldn't hurt him, and it'd be better this way in case anyone asked that terrible liar about it. He'd thank her afterward.

With a sigh, Ilithyia plopped down on the ground. Bits and pieces of low conversation floated around the room. Quieter than she'd usually like, but she wouldn't complain after today. She leaned back against her backpack, all the way until her head was practically upside-down. For once, she was glad for calmness. She'd take it over her friends bickering any day.

She took a deep breath and shut her eyes. She had to think positive. Nevaeh had called her hermana again for the first time in days, hadn't she? Perhaps their day spent together had been worth it in the end, even if the Ten girl hadn't seemed much better when they'd originally returned to home base from hunting.

There was rustling beside her. She sat back up to find Adair beside her, a sudden seriousness upon his features.

"What's going on?" she asked.

"I need you to do me a favor," he said, voice low.

"Go for it."

He sucked in a deep breath; he glanced around the room, likely checking for Eros. She couldn't blame him. As much as she loved her district partner, she had to admit that there was no way his distaste for Adair was reasonable.

"Can we pick the judge now?" he said. "This whole situation is really stressful, and it'd help me a ton tonight if I knew who the judge would be tomorrow."

She bit her lip. Eros would tell her to say no. But Nevaeh trusted him. And she trusted them both. Maybe there'd been a better explanation to what Eros had seen. She hoped, at least. Their team had already lost a member off the bat.

"Yeah, sure," she said. She felt around her pockets for the leather pouch, only to come up with a pile of granola bar wrappers from her snacking throughout the day. "As soon as I find the bag…"

"Lost your marbles?" He winked. "Shame."

She rolled her eyes. "They're around here somewhere."

"Oh! Here they are." He lifted the bag up from beside her backpack. "Must've fallen out when you leaned back."

With her marbles restored, she gave him a thank you and stood to her feet.

"Is everyone okay if we pick the judge now?" she said, looking around the room. "Yeah? Then I'll go ahead and do that, so we all know what we're doing tomorrow morning."

Humming a tune, she looked up at the ceiling and plunged her hand in the bag, feeling around the five remaining marbles, since Nevaeh had removed Adair's.

"Tomorrow's judge will be…"

She lifted her fist. The glass inside was oddly cool against her hand, probably some strange physics phenomena she'd never been able to grasp. When she opened her hand, she was greeted by a lovely purple marble, the very one she'd chosen to represent herself.

"Oh! It's me. I'm the judge."

The Fallen:

13. Yggdrasil Kane (D11F), beaten to death with gauntlets by Clarke Brioche (D9F)
What do I even say about Iggy? She was an absolute angel, a joy for me to write, everyone's beloved darling. I hate to admit that I at no point ever considered her as a candidate for Victor, but that doesn't diminish my affection for her one bit, as she was unsurprisingly one of my favorites out of the entire cast (and, dare I say, one of y'all's favorites as well). I can honestly say that she gave me the easiest time writing her out of every child here, and I always looked forward to writing the world through her naive perspective. Losing her is a national tragedy. I'll be grieving for a while.

Kill Counter:
Ilithyia Aella (D2F): II
Ace Invidia (D3M): II
Adair Ryder (D7M): II
Clarke Brioche (D9F): II
Adora Noble (D1F): I
Eros Worshire (D2M): I
Virginia Bedford (D8F): I
Nevaeh Jiminez (D10F): I

A/N: Ouch. This hurts. But the Games don't stop for no one and we got some intrigue incoming for Day Six!

QoTW: If there could be a television show about only one of these kids, who should get it? Pick two if you'd like, one living and one dead.

As much as Laforza could carry a whole show on her shoulders, I would love to see Kiran get one for himself. I think it'd be hilarious while also having a few good genuine moments. As for the living ones… I'll make a spice pick and say Ellis. His show would totally be a feel-good, happy-ending type thing, and that's exactly the type of content I love to watch.

I'd love to know y'all's thoughts!