The morning air is heavy with an eerie stillness as I leave the cave. The trees, once welcoming, now seem like towering sentinels, casting long shadows in the early light. Raven is perched on my shoulder, his cold eyes scanning the forest, but I hardly notice. My mind is elsewhere—focused on what lies ahead. The Games. The tributes. I know the clock is ticking, and I have to be ready. I can't stay hidden forever.
The hundreds of snakes, each one curled and slithering beneath my jumpsuit, feel like a thousand tiny hearts beating in time with my own. A constant reminder of the power I wield. I've learned to ignore them—for now.
It's time to head back. I have to find Xander. I've been gone for a while now, and the Games are only growing more deadly. Something in the pit of my stomach tells me today won't be like the others.
Raven hisses in my ear. "You're wasting time."
"I know," I mutter. But I can't shake the feeling that something is wrong.
The cave is quiet when I return. Too quiet. There's no sign of Xander. No rustle in the bushes, no sound of him stretching or grumbling. Nothing.
I move through the cave cautiously, my senses sharp. The smell of the forest clings to the air, mingling with something metallic. Blood. I stop.
"Xander?" My voice cracks slightly. There's no answer. Just silence.
Something inside me clenches as I move deeper into the cave. My mind begins to race. I step past the rocks, through the narrow opening leading to the edge of the clearing. And there, sprawled in the dirt, lies the unmistakable form of Xander.
My heart stops.
He's cold.
His body is torn—crushed in places I can't even comprehend. His eyes are wide open, empty. His chest is still. He's gone.
I fall to my knees beside him, my hands shaking as I reach for him, but I know there's nothing I can do.
"Xander… Xander…" I whisper, the name a lifeline I can't hold onto anymore. My throat tightens, and my vision blurs. "Why?" I scream into the stillness, the question echoing through the cave.
I can't breathe. I can't think. My chest feels like it's being crushed by an invisible weight, the air thick and suffocating.
And then… the familiar pulse of magic surges within me.
My powers flare, uncontrollable, like a fire that's been stoked with every ounce of my grief. My hands tremble, a storm of energy building within my core. The snakes inside my jumpsuit stir restlessly, their bodies writhing in a frenzy. Raven hisses loudly in my ear, but I don't hear him.
The magic takes over, the elemental forces churning inside me, growing more violent by the second.
"Stop!" I scream, but it's useless. The power isn't mine to control anymore. It controls me.
Fire, water, wind, Earth, light, dark—they swirl inside me, feeding off the chaos, each element a manifestation of the rage and sorrow coursing through my veins. My body trembles with the weight of them, the power forcing me to my feet as the air around me begins to warp and twist.
"Stop! Please!" I cry out again, my voice breaking, but it's all for nothing. The ground beneath me cracks open, rocks rising into the air, dirt flying in every direction. The wind howls, fierce and unyielding, lifting me off the ground as if the world itself is conspiring against me. My eyes burn with blinding light, and I can't tell where the magic ends and I begin.
Then—darkness.
When I wake, I feel disoriented, the world around me a blur. My body aches as if I've been torn apart, every muscle sore and stiff. The air smells sterile, too clean—nothing like the forest, the earth, or the cave.
I blink, trying to focus, and the soft glow of fluorescent lights above me begins to make sense. It's a hospital room, stark white, and unfamiliar.
A low hum fills the air, a constant buzz that keeps my senses on edge. I try to sit up, but my head spins, and I'm forced to lay back down.
Then, the door opens.
A woman steps inside—a vision of carefully composed calm, dressed in a Capitol stylist's uniform. Her smile is warm, but there's something calculated in her eyes.
"Well, it looks like you're awake," she says, her voice smooth, like honey. "Good. We need to have a little talk."
I try to speak, but my throat is dry. A nurse enters, offering me a cup of water. I drink greedily, my hands trembling slightly.
"Where am I?" I ask, my voice hoarse.
"The Capitol," she replies simply, though it feels like she's telling me something I already know. "You were in the arena, and you were… well, you were out of control."
I frown, confused. The last thing I remember is the power, the raw fury inside me. Xander.
My stomach churns.
"What happened?" I ask, my voice barely more than a whisper. "Where's Xander?"
The stylist's smile falters just a fraction. "He didn't make it," she says. "You were the only one left. The other tributes… they died. But you… you became something else entirely." She pauses, her gaze lingering on me, sharp. "You killed them all, Emerald."
The words hit me like a punch to the gut. I can't breathe. I can't think. The memories flood back—chaos, destruction, the uncontrollable rage and power, but it's all fractured, like pieces of a nightmare I can't piece together.
"You were a storm," she says softly. "They never stood a chance."
I try to stand, but my legs are weak. The door slides open, and I'm led into a room where a screen flickers to life. The Capitol's holographic news station is showing a feed from the arena. The footage plays over and over, highlighting the brutal events.
I see myself—the girl who was once so afraid, so helpless. But now… now I am something else. I watch as I raise my hands, the earth cracking open beneath my feet, the air warping with my rage. The tributes around me scatter, trying to flee, but it's no use. They're all gone.
And then, Xander.
I see him, his face frozen in a final moment of terror as another tribute strikes him down. My breath catches in my throat.
Xander. Dead.
I can't move. The room feels small, the walls pressing in on me. The weight of everything—my powers, the deaths, my failure to protect him—crashes down.
"Emerald," Raven hisses from my wrist, his voice harsh and cold. "It's not over. You're still here."
And then, my gaze shifts. On the screen, amidst the chaos, the image flickers. The snakes—hundreds of them—are moving with me. Writhing, slithering beneath my jumpsuit, part of the storm I became.
I stare down at myself. In this formal dress, I feel like a stranger. This isn't who I am.
The Capitol might have dressed me up, but they can't change what I've become. My powers are part of me now, and even though I'm in this polished, perfect place… the storm inside me rages.