Reaping Day. Again.
The Capitol had made sure this one would haunt us all.
I sat with my fathers in the Victors' Village living room, surrounded by a silence that felt louder than any noise. The television flickered as it always did on Reaping Day, but this time, the entire nation waited with bated breath.
The Quarter Quell.
President Snow's pale, snake-like face appeared on the screen, his cold eyes surveying us through the lens. The room felt colder.
"Ladies and gentlemen," his voice slithered into the silence, "welcome to the announcement of the Third Quarter Quell. As you know, every twenty-five years, the Capitol celebrates this special edition of the Hunger Games to remind the districts of their subservience and the cost of defiance."
I tensed, my tail curling around my leg. Raven, coiled on my wrist as always, whispered into my mind.
"Something's wrong, Emerald. I feel it."
Snow continued, "This year, the tributes will be reaped from the existing pool of Victors."
The words hit like a physical blow.
"No," I whispered, my ears flattening against my head.
Snow's icy smile deepened as murmurs rippled through the districts. "This decision reminds us that no one is beyond the Capitol's reach, not even those who have already triumphed."
My fathers exchanged looks of horror. I barely heard their voices as they argued, their words blending into white noise.
In District 12, Effie Trinket stepped onto the stage, her usual over-the-top cheeriness muted. The camera zoomed in as she pulled the slip of paper from the bowl with the female tributes.
"Katniss Everdeen."
My heart sank.
Katniss, standing as the only female tribute, face paled but stepped forward without hesitation. Her face was stoic, her jaw tight.
Then came the second name.
"Haymitch Abernathy."
Haymitch staggered slightly as if the air had been knocked out of him. He looked at Katniss, his expression unreadable. Before anyone could react, Peeta's voice cut through the noise.
"I volunteer!"
Effie blinked in shock. "You—"
"I volunteer as tribute!" Peeta shouted, louder this time.
Katniss spun to look at him, her eyes wide with disbelief. The camera caught the brief exchange between them, the way her lips parted as if to protest but then clamped shut. Peeta climbed the stage, joining her, his movements deliberate and steady.
As the scene unfolded, I made my decision.
When it was District 3's turn, I stepped forward the moment Wiress's name was called.
"I volunteer as tribute," I said firmly.
Wiress flinched, her wide eyes darting to me. "Emerald…"
"No one else is going to fight for us," I said quietly. "I've survived before. I'll do it again."
The escort—an overly cheery man whose name I didn't care to remember—blinked, surprised, but nodded and motioned for me to step forward.
As I stood on the stage, the cameras turned to me. My tail flicked slightly, a subtle movement I couldn't control. I glanced back toward the faces of my fathers. Their expressions were a mix of anguish and resignation.
The anthem played, and the Victors were led away.
Raven's voice murmured against my thoughts as we were marched toward the transport.
"You volunteered for her, but who's going to fight for you, Emerald?"
"I'll manage," I whispered under my breath, my voice too quiet for anyone but him to hear.
But in the pit of my stomach, doubt twisted like a blade.