Chapter 70: Old Habits Die Hard
"Jabberjays." Plutarch declared proudly.
She lowered head and covered her ears. At first glance, the birds looked ordinary. Pale feathers that blended in with the sky and small beaks that wouldn't be sharp enough to pierce skin. They were ordinary birds. Harmless even—if she ignored the nightmarish screams coming out of their tiny mouths.
"Prim!" Katniss rushed deeper into the jungle screaming her sister's name repeatedly.
Prim. Primrose Everdeen. Katniss' little sister. The reason why Katniss was in there.
Slowly, she uncovered her ears to Plutarch's laughs. "A little too much for you, Miss Reza?"
"I'm fine, just…surprised." Sera smiled a thin smile and took a bottle of pills from her purse. She popped one and washed it down with some water, ignoring her half-finished tea.
"You know she has a poor heart—" She gripped Scarus' arm tight, cutting his voice and blood circulation off.
"I'm fine." She said through clenched teeth. "I'm fine." She repeated through Primrose's screams. "Really, I was just…surprised. The jabberjays sounded so real."
She would've attacked Plutarch there and then if the two were alone. But the President sat between her and Plutarch, shielding the Gamemaker from her wrath.
So she turned her head down towards her lap, huddling close to her own body and ignoring Scarus' invasive hands over her back and his poor attempts at comforting her. She could only curse herself for missing the games for the evening and letting Plutarch blindside her.
This was why she never trusted anyone too much, certainly not someone from the Capitol.
President Snow frowned. "Consul, contact Dr Jadewell in case of an emergency. The last thing I need is for a victor to drop dead in my office."
Like an obedient hound, Scarus rose from his seat and disappeared down the hall. She couldn't hear his footsteps fading away through the thick walls of President Snow's office and Primrose's haunting shrieks.
The jabberjays flew across the screen, singing Primrose's screams through the forest. Her mind still couldn't comprehend that those little birds were actually mutts.
Katniss took out an arrow from her quiver and loaded it up into her bow. A flicker of recognition flashed in her eyes as a jabberjay swooped down to scream closer.
Unlike Sera, Katniss recognized those mutts. Sera had to be told to know. Katniss knew what it was at a quick glance and what it was capable of.
Shakily, Katniss pointed the bow towards the sky, biting down her lips to stop herself from giving the jabberjays another voice to join its macabre symphony.
"Help me! Help me!" The jabberjays sang and mid-song, one was shot, falling dead on impact from Katniss' arrow.
The haunting shrieks had stopped. She didn't even know Primrose but the sound of the young girl's screams was nightmarish.
"Katniss."
Sera's stomach dropped and her face turned a sickly pale hue when she heard Finnick's voice. She fixed her gaze on the screen as Finnick appeared from the foliage.
No.
Immediately, Sera turned to Plutarch and Snow. One knew what was coming and the other didn't. Her fist tightened around the silk covering her chest.
No.
She didn't want to see or hear what was coming but she couldn't look away. Not even when Eugene's voice told her to. Her fingers dug into the hard white leather sofas, attempting to bury herself into its lap.
Goldenrods. Be Cautious.
Gooseberries. Anticipation.
Pimpernels. Change.
Plutarch's arrangement in the training hall came to her mind as the jabberjays rained down on Finnick and Katniss. Primrose's screams carried through the screen and the arena until Finnick found Katniss. She wished he never went to Katniss, she wished he ran the other way.
Finnick called out to Katniss as he crashed through the clearing. "Katniss?"
The jabberjays fell silent. Katniss' kill of one of their own had temporarily stolen their voices. A few circled around the pair like vultures observing their prey.
'Run!' She wanted to scream through the screen to tell Finnick to abandon Katniss and leave the clearing. Run so far away that those jabberjays wouldn't find him. But Finnick wouldn't hear her. He couldn't. It wasn't like him to abandon people. He wasn't like her.
Even if she screamed, begged and cried, Finnick wouldn't run. Just like Leora. It wasn't in their nature.
And it had all already happened. Everything she was seeing through a thin screen was gone and done.
Oh.
Her body gave up and she fell back into her seat in defeat, giving the illusion that she'd relaxed. She'd forgotten that she was only watching a recap.
Her heartbeat seemed to slow down with each step Finnick made towards Katniss. This already happened. She didn't want to see the result of it.
A piercing shriek drained the remaining warmth in the room and the color from Finnick's face. At first, Sera couldn't recognize it clearly but she knew one thing; that scream wasn't hers.
Still it was a voice she knew, somewhere in the back of her mind. She remembered that voice. Her mind was blank and hollow whenever she tried to recall. She knew that voice.
Annie. Annie Cresta.
She remembered her screams, her cries when her partner was beheaded during her games five years ago in front of her in the arena.
Five years ago when Sera chose to keep her alive despite Finnick's protests.
Finnick chased the jabberjay through the forest, shaking Katniss off, calling Annie's name desperately.
At least it wasn't Sera.
"Finnick!" Katniss called out to him, crushing the foliage in her path to get to him. Finnick had disappeared deeper into the woods. "It's not real! It's not 'your' Annie!"
Ignoring Katniss' pleas, Finnick dove deeper into the foliage. The jabberjays continued to circle around him with glee, finally finding a victim that didn't want to see past the illusion.
Finnick stopped at another clearing where the light barely passed through the clearing and looked around the sky above him. Thick leafy branches covered the sky with jabberjays hiding in its green covers.
"It's all right, Finnick. It's just a jabberjay. They're playing a trick on us," Katniss said, chasing after Finnick. "It's not real. It's not really who you think it is."
"No, that was Annie." He insisted, clutching his trident close to him. "The voice was hers. Jabberjays mimic what they hear. Where did they get those screams, Katniss?" He begged Katniss for an answer.
An answer Katniss didn't have. She didn't know anything, not like Finnick and her allies or the ones outside the arena.
Another jabberjay fluttered past her with Primrose's scream and Katniss swatted it out of her way but it lingered, mocking her. She didn't know where the screams were coming from: Annie's or Primrose's.
The screams morphed to another, deeper voice and another as they circled Finnick. It kept changing quickly and Katniss switched her aim, ignoring the ones with Primrose's voice as Finnick fell down to the floor in agony, clutching his ears.
Another arrow flew through the air and pierced a jabberjay. The mutts scattered quickly, silencing themselves but didn't leave. Finnick let out a sigh of relief in his small reprieve.
Still, it wasn't over. Katniss loaded her bow and held it in place, looking at Finnick with moist eyes.
"You don't think…" She trailed off, losing her breath.
"Yes. I do. That's exactly what I think." Finnick replied, a little more calmer than before but still gasping for air. "But maybe it's not." He added and his fingers brushed against his empty ring finger unconsciously. "It can't be." He said to himself in a low voice.
Sera ignored the gesture and focused her attention on the half-empty teacups in front of her, the curtained windows and the dim lights that seemed to glow a cold blue. She was looking anywhere but at Finnick.
President Snow craned his head towards Plutarch, whispering something out of her ears' reach and turned back to the screen, pausing it for a second and rewinding it before letting the footage play without interruptions.
Annie wasn't in the Capitol. She couldn't be, she wasn't needed. She was never fit to be a mentor. Neither were those the owners of the other voices.
Yet those screams sounded so real and life-like. It didn't sound like Annie's screams during her games, that one was different, more tired; she was half-drowning in a mix of floodwaters and blood. Neither did it sound like her screams from her Victory Banquet when those Capitolites began to fall dead.
"You're insane." Sera muttered under her breath, biting down at her painted lips. Not even her worst nightmares had jabberjays in them. "Panem adores Primrose Everdeen and Annie Cresta, she's…not well. Everyone knows she's a little…"
Unfazed, Plutarch waved his hand. "Oh I know everything and that's why it's not real. It's fake. I had my gamemakers use samples of voices from bits and pieces of any footage I could find on Primrose Everdeen, Annie Cresta and a few other individuals to train the jabberjays to mimic their voices into screams."
"But it sounded so…real." She breathed out.
"It's not real." Plutarch insisted, his mask cracking ever so slightly, taken aback by Sera's response. "It's not real." He repeated with a forced laugh.
"Primrose. That sounded like her and–and Annie. I know Annie. Her screams. I remember them—from her games." She spoke carefully but her fear was spilling out of her like a burst dam.
The jabberjays were like her nightmares come to life. She was glad she wasn't in the arena and had never been more grateful for Leora's selfish sacrifice.
"It's not Primrose."
"But it sounded like her." She repeated.
"Primrose Everdeen isn't even in the Capitol." President Snow stated. He didn't seem surprised by the false screams. He was more disappointed that Katniss hadn't completely lost her mind because of the jabberjays.
Sera swallowed and tried to keep her breathing even. "Still," She tilted her head to the side. "Not everyone would know it's fake, Plutarch. I didn't. Katniss and Finnick didn't—not at first anyway."
"I can assure you Miss Reza," Plutarch sighed and ruffled his hair, loosening his collar. "That one one was harmed, especially not Primrose when I had my jabberjays trained. You'll see."
"See what—" Sera's own words were cut off with a breathless broken melodic screech.
"Finnick!"
Finnick froze. His face drained off all color and his eyes paled. Only shadows under his eyes colored his face as he took a step back and looked up; the jabberjays weren't there. They were hiding but the voice was still there.
"Finnick!"
Frantically, Johanna swung her ax in the air, trying to get the jabberjays to come out of hiding to no avail. Katniss drew her bow and pointed at the sky.
"...Finn." A soft subtle voice, not a scream but a cry.
A choking sound escaped his lips and Finnick ran. "No. No. No. You promised!" He ran backwards, frantically looking up at the skies and shadows underneath the foliage.
"Finnick!" Johanna cursed out and ran after him. "It's not her!"
Finnick kept shaking his head and kept searching. "Sera! Sera! Come on! You–" He bit his lips, drawing blood and threw his trident at a nearby tree, disturbing the jabberjays. "Sera!"
"Finn!"
In desperation, he let out a cry and pulled at his ears. A jabberjay swooped down, singing in Sera's voice and he swung his trident around in desperation, missing it and hitting air, only to come crashing down on the ground.
The jabberjays finally came out of their hiding spots and flocked around him, repeating his name like a haunting chant. He covered his face and ears, pulling at his ears to silence the screams of Sera, Annie and many more voices.
Sera's heart dropped and her shoulders caved in on itself as her hands went up to cover her ears. Her lungs were full of thorns. She broke skin when she bit the insides of her cheeks to stop herself from screaming out.
No.
She couldn't look at the screen, only hear her muffled screams from beyond the screen.
It was her.
But it wasn't her.
She was sitting right there. She was not in the arena.
"Seraphine." President Snow's voice beckoned her out of her nightmarish thoughts to her nightmare of a reality but she couldn't move. Her body had frozen in place.
Another phantom scream and she flinched like she'd been stabbed. She couldn't breathe. Her mind was blank with nothing but rage and pain.
"Seraphine." President Snow called out her name once more.
Blood from the broken skin inside her mouth coated her mouth as she swallowed back the bile rising from the back of her throat, she felt sick. She rolled her tongue inside her mouth, trying to stop the blood and any screams of her own escaping her mouth.
Black spots appeared in her vision, dancing like twinkling stars on an inverted pitch black night. She could barely keep her head up and her face blank of all emotions.
"SERAPHINE!"
Her mouth didn't move. She couldn't move. And yet…
"Katniss!" Seraphine's haunting voice called out. She wasn't screaming anymore. She was breathless, like the real Sera.
Breathless and tired, dragging her words but still softly melodic and harshly gentle.
"Katniss!" Seraphine called out again and Katniss spun around with her bow pointed towards the sky. "Katniss!" She screamed out after calling her victim. "Finnick!"
When Katniss pulled the string of her bow, aimed at the jabberjay with Seraphine's voice. The jabberjay ducked down and circled Finnick before falling back into a tree.
"Finnick! Hel—"
Her screams were cut short with a swing of Johanna's ax. The jabberjay with Sera's voice split into two and fell at Finnick's feet.
Nothing followed after the fall of the jabberjay. Nothing that she could see. The screen abruptly turned black and shifted focus towards the remaining careers.
Whatever happened after wasn't for Panem's eyes to see.
Sera didn't move. She should've. She knew she should've said something to erase President Snow's suspicions but she couldn't move. She was frozen.
She didn't even notice Plutarch rising from his seat, abandoning the tea she'd prepared so meticulously for President Snow and his company.
"As you saw Seraphine," Plutarch grabbed his coat as a knock echoed through Snow's office. "No one was harmed in procuring the voice samples for the jabberjays, certainly not you."
"W-why?" Sera rubbed her throat lightly to ease the sick feeling in the back of her throat. "Why did you—"
"It was a simple demonstration." Plutarch answered back.
"Demonstration for what?" President Snow asked and motioned Plutarch to sit back down. "Sit down, Plutarch. We're not done here."
Plutarch ignored the President and slipped on his coat. "Unfortunately, I have matters to deal with and—it was a demonstration for Miss Reza. I knew she would question me about the jabberjays and given the rumors, I thought—"
"Rumors? Those rumors aren't true!" Sera gathered the teacups, leaving only Plutarch's near untouched ones on the table. She raised them slightly in the air out of frustration, her hands quaking as she did so as a wave of anger rolled through her. "It's not my fault if they cared about me a little. Their feelings aren't my fault!"
Another loud knock and Sera grip on the teacups tightened. She turned her back to the two men and allowed herself to fade into the background as she cleared the table for the avoxes while ignoring the steely gaze of the President.
Those cups in her hand would find a good home shattering against Plutarch's head.
"Gamemaker Heavensbee." Fulvia Cardew patiently stood in the doorway with a briefcase in her hands. "It's time." She spared Sera a quick cursory glance and turned away like they were strangers.
The rhythmic sound of the door closing behind Plutarch echoed, and for a brief moment, Sera could only hear the faint hum of her own heart. Her hands were still trembling slightly from the confrontation moments before.
The cups she had cleared from the table felt fragile in her grasp, much like the carefully constructed web she had spun around her life.
A heavy blanket of tension draped over everything in the cold and dark office. Sera kept her back to Snow, attempting to regain control over her breathing, her thoughts, her composure. All the pieces were scattered. Plutarch had pulled back the curtains and thrown her pieces across the board.
When she finally turned to face him, his cold, calculating gaze was fixed on her, sharp and piercing as ever.
"I'm giving you a minute to explain yourself, Seraphine," President Snow began, his voice slow and deliberate, like a predator savoring the moment before the kill. "Why did Finnick Odair react so...violently to your voice?"
Sera blinked innocently, the tension coiling tighter inside her, suffocating her.
Lie.
'Lie like you've always done.'
"It's nothing, Mr President." She said, her voice even. "He was likely just—"
"You're lying." He sliced through her words. "And poorly, at that." He smiled then, that eerie, lipless smile that chilled her to her bones. "You're far too smart to believe lying to me would be in your best interest, Seraphine. Come now, I didn't keep you around because you're stupid, did I?"
"No."
"No. I didn't."
Any other words she had got caught in her throat. She could only remain silent, knowing that anything she said now would only dig her deeper into a grave she was trying desperately to avoid.
"Finnick will not be coming out of the arena, Seraphine," President Snow said, almost casually, as though discussing the weather and rose from his seat. "So, why, I wonder, would you risk everything you've built, everything you've worked so hard for, your family, your loved ones, to protect a man who has slept with half of the Capitol?"
Her breath was caught in her throat. A tight knot formed in her chest, twisting painfully. She couldn't look at the President for a moment. Her gaze fell to the floor as she tried to suppress the wave of emotions threatening to break free.
"Why did you pick him?" Snow asked, his tone deceptively soft but sharp enough to cut through the suffocating silence. He circled her slowly, like a predator sizing up its prey. "What made you so...attached?"
Sera's mind scrambled for an answer, any answer that wouldn't betray her. She couldn't tell him the truth, not without throwing away everything she'd worked for and endangering her family. She loved Finnick, she did.
The twin yarrow necklace around her neck was proof of that but she couldn't betray herself or her family.
Only thing she could do was craft a lie that was the truth.
"I didn't pick him." Her voice was barely above a whisper when she spoke.
He picked me. The thought echoed inside her, but it stayed locked deep within her, hidden where no one—especially not Snow—could reach. The truth didn't matter here. Not in front of him.
"And yet, he reacted to your voice like his life depended on it." Snow mused, circling her slowly like a vulture ready to strike. "When he heard Miss Cresta, he lost himself but when he heard your voice—he seemed broken. I've never seen him so broken, not since his family all died. So tell me, Seraphine, how does one become so important to someone like Finnick Odair? You've managed to make him…desperate and broken."
"Th-there isn't much to it. We were...we were…friends." Her words were chosen with precision. "Maybe more at one point, but whatever we hand ended after the 70th Games. He ended it." She swallowed, trying to keep her voice steady. "It's over." It felt like she was walking on a razor's edge, each word a step closer to an abyss.
"Friends," Snow repeated, his voice laced with disdain. "Is that what you two called yourselves? Friends?"
"Not exactly friends or lovers—we were just…something in between. I admit it was my fault—I was lonely. I didn't have anyone here."
His lips curled into a bitter, mocking smile. "Not lovers, not friends—something in between. How poetic." His words were dismissive with an undercurrent of anger in his voice that made her heart race.
But he seemed distracted, his gaze hardening. He reached for Plutarch's forgotten teacup still sitting on the table, nearly full with the now-cold tea.
Sera's eyes flicked to the cup in Snow's hand, her stomach twisting. She could see the tension in his grip, the way his fingers curled around the delicate wasn't sure if it was fear of the cup shattering against her or the idea of President Snow's rage finally unraveling in front of her, but she kept her eyes locked on it.
"Was it jealousy? Is that why you two fell apart? Were you jealous of Annie Cresta?"
She scoffed and the room seemed less cold. Jealous? Maybe she was at one point. But pity won over jealousy and she'd quickly forgotten that ugly green emotion Annie made her feel at one point.
Sera drew in a slow breath, willing herself to calm as she watched Snow's fingers tighten on the cup. The threat in his grip was unmistakable, and she could feel her own heart thudding in response.
"Jealous?" She scoffed lightly, allowing a thin veneer of truth to slip through. "Maybe, at one point. But that doesn't matter now, does it?"
She knew better than to admit the whole truth—that years ago, she'd push for Annie to live and for another to die. She could never admit that, not without giving away more.
"Of course, it doesn't matter now." He murmured in a mocking tone, veiling a barb.
Finnick was going to die.
He didn't need to say it for her to know but she could hear the unspoken words loud and clear. Her frozen and aching heart pounded against her chest as she held his steady gaze.
"In fact, nothing you've done matters if you can't keep yourself in check, Seraphine. I think you'd be wise to remember that." Her pulse quickened and he turned from her dismissively. "You'll resume your rounds tomorrow afternoon—and you'll be moving out of the Training Center."
Her lips twitched unnaturally. "With District 5 out, there's no reason for me to remain here. I could return home—"
"I didn't ask for your opinion or what you wanted, Seraphine." He interrupted. His gaze remained on the door. "You will stay in the Capitol to make up for your absence at the Victory Banquet."
Confusion flickered across her face. Wasn't he the one to keep her out of the Capitol? Or had she somehow missed the message? Those questions were on the tip of her tongue.
"Or would you like me to summon your family here—to lessen your 'loneliness'?"
She swallowed her questions along with the bitter bile rising up in her throat. "That…won't be necessary, Mr. President." She lowered her head and passed the cups in her hands off to an avox who'd barely managed to get in the frost-covered room.
"Good." He nodded. "You've already disappointed me too many times this year—don't make it a habit and," He moved towards his desk and stopped. "I hope you won't waste your time mourning."
"Mourning?"
"Over Finnick Odair." He answered like it was nothing.
"He's not…dead."
"Not yet but we both know he's not going to come out of that arena…alive."
Sera said nothing and he took her silence as acceptance that she'd already mourned and moved on.
"You have more important things to do. If you're not satisfied with resuming your usual work, you can always pick up after…him." She quickly shook her head, taking a step back. "That's why I like you—you pick things up very quickly. Don't disappoint me again, Seraphine. I have high hopes for you." He placed his cold hand on her shoulder, patting it roughly before wiping it with a handkerchief.
The corridors felt colder, more oppressive than they ever had and felt so much longer, stretching with crimson and gold carpets running miles ahead and white marble walls that felt too clinically clean. It was like she was walking through a snowy hell streaked with blood.
Shakily, she made her way towards the exit and her mind drifted to the Victory Banquet in an attempt to distract herself from the cacophony of emotions and thoughts inside her mind.
The Victory Banquet. She kept repeating it inside her head. She wasn't invited back. Shut out. Snow didn't want her back. She knew that. Did she? He kept her away but—
She slowed in her steps. Plutarch. It was almost painfully obvious. Her vision turned red with bright blue spots in the middle. It was him—he was the reason why she wasn't there at the last Victory Banquet. He didn't want her there and he had the gall to mock her about not being there.
A bitter laugh slipped out, quiet but unrestrained. How could she have been so blind?
She and Zephyr needed to leave as soon as possible; they couldn't afford to remain in the Capitol for another day. At least, there was a small relief knowing that Huxley was already back home.
Abruptly, her vision was blinded by a flash of dark red hair, unmistakable even at a distance, cutting through the quiet white marble halls. Sera stopped dead, her breath catching as she saw a woman she recognized all too well being hurriedly escorted by a group of Peacekeepers.
The woman would stop every few seconds to look around and question her escorts before she pulled at the skirt of her pale blue dress that seemed too simple for someone like her. Sera ducked out of her vision and casually turned away from her, hiding herself away in the midst of the tapestries and Capitol flags.
Every instinct screamed at her to run back, to follow them. Her mask cracked ever so slightly and her hands itched to reach for the sharp blade-like pin resting on her head but she stopped herself, slowly backing away.
Without a second thought, Sera turned on her heel and made her way back where she'd come from. She didn't stop until she was back at the doors of the President's office. Whatever plans with Zephyr she thought of making, her intentions to leave—none of it mattered anymore.
She barely knocked before pushing open the door, ignoring the glare Snow shot her from behind his desk. He raised a hand in dismissal. "We were done here, Seraphine."
But she ignored him, her voice steadier than she felt. "I need to know who took charge of the planning for the Victory Banquet after Seneca's…death."
His eyes narrowed. "That isn't for you to know."
"It is when you accuse me of ignoring your orders." He let out a dry laugh. "Was it Plutarch Heavensbee?"
President Snow's gaze stilled. There was a flicker of something unreadable there followed by clear icy anger.
"How did you come to that conclusion?"
"I guessed." Her voice was a whisper. "Was the Quell theme already decided, then? Did he have something to do with it? It was his suggestion, wasn't it? To recall the victors back into the arena and throw Panem into chaos—I'm sorry, 'to give Panem a surprise and a game to never forget'."
President Snow remained silent, his jaw tightening. He pulled forward a screen and waited before pulling up a long wall text that he quickly scanned over. His eyes twitched violently as his hands shook.
Sera took a shaky breath. "...I never received any invitation to return to the Capitol for the Banquet."
Snow's gaze sharpened on the wall of text. He didn't look at her. "There's no need to lie, Seraphine," He said, pausing and then his eyes narrowed on her, realization dawning in them as he studied her face.
She wasn't lying.
Both of them knew that Sera was never fully honest with him even when he threatened her. She'd slip in a lie or two, harmless ones to cushion herself if she stumbled or some rare deep lies to hide away something she didn't want him to know like Finnick.
But now, Sera was being honest.
"Plutarch took over after Seneca's death. He chose the theme for the Quell and handled all the events for the 74th Games in place of Seneca Crane."
"And you allowed it." She interjected sharply, unable to keep her anger restrained.
"Why shouldn't I have? He hasn't disappointed me and done exactly what I asked of him—you even cleared him, remember?"
Sera flinched and shook her head. "You shouldn't have allowed him to do that much—definitely not let him pick the Quell's rules and theme."
"I did it out of necessity." He spat out.
"Because you wanted Everdeen gone." She knew the sound of Katniss's first name pricked him, and purposefully omitted it, an attempt to gain back some slivers of his fleeting trust.
Snow's mouth tightened, his voice an icy reprimand. "What would you have done? Hmm? She's a spare victor and one we don't need. We both know you wouldn't even think to kill Miss Everdeen—in fact, you'd preach to us how it would be better to keep her alive and let her survival wreck havoc on Panem?! Would you have done what was necessary?!"
"No," She replied frankly. "I know the risks. Killing someone isn't easy."
President Snow scoffed. Of course, for him it was nothing.
"Someone like her—killing her so soon after her victory is a risk. She just won—her games are fresh in the minds of Panem. She's got eyes on her every move. Every few months, she's on the screens—if it's not recaps, it's her damned love story and then it was that marriage—she and Peeta Mellark haven't been allowed to fade. Killing her now while everyone's watching would be a risk. Though it's a great way to make a martyr."
"And that's why the Quell was green lit!" President Snow fired back, more patiently as if he was talking to a child.
Sera shook her head. "No," She breathed out, clutching her throat. "The Quell does nothing to cushion her death—all you did was prove to the districts that the games don't matter—Plutarch took away the prize—the reason why tributes volunteer or fight in the arena, to survive and what's the point of survival if you can be thrown back in."
"This…means nothing."
"Some of the districts are rioting. Capitol streets have been blocked off. A bunch of stylists and escorts are currently being mass interrogated. It means something."
"ENOUGH!"
His hand shot out, grabbing a heavy paperweight on his desk. Before she could move, he flung it at her with startling speed. She jerked back, feeling the cold gust of its passing before it smashed into the wall behind her. She barely managed to keep her expression neutral, but her heart pounded as shards scattered onto the floor.
"You want to blame someone? Then start with yourself. You…were the one who told me Plutarch was framed." He spat out, venom dripping from each word.
"I admit I made a mistake."
"You'll be taking on both Cashmere's and Odair's work. You should consider it a mercy. I'm letting you prove you're still of any use at all."
She took a shaky breath, pushing back the instinct to recoil. "You put me in charge of watching Plutarch despite me clearing him years ago—you didn't trust him, and yet you kept him close. You told me to watch him, remember? I've done everything you asked me and more—and you're holding onto a few mistakes I made, ignoring everything I've done so far."
"Mistakes?" He echoed back with a bitter laugh and clapped his hands together. "Oh! You think you made a series of silly little mistakes, not the fact that you were sleeping with Finnick Odair!"
"It's over now!" She lied with ease.
"Doesn't matter because at the time you were involved, you have no idea what secrets you told him."
"I told him nothing that mattered!" Her chest rose and fell as she clasped her hands together tightly, pinching herself violently to dull the sudden ache in her chest. "...All we…ever talked about was our family—mine mostly and sometimes his and maybe if…there was a future for us. Nothing more."
President Snow's jaw clenched, a dangerous gleam in his eye, but he said nothing. "You made a foolish mistake, not just once—"
Sera lifted her chin, her gaze unwavering. "And I'm trying to make up for it. I know I made a mistake clearing Plutarch Heavensbee's name. But I know what I have and I know what I'll lose because of my…" She swallowed. "mistakes."
She let out a shaky breath and unclasped her hands, bending down to pick up a white rose that had been crushed under the weight of the glass paper weight that once encased it. She held it up to the light and from the corner of her eyes, she could see President Snow watching her like a hawk.
"I'm not trying to shift the blame; I believe that…" Her breath got caught in her throat, her chest ached and her lungs were failing her. She could barely breathe. "I believe that…" She repeated. "Plutarch is trying to frame me—I think he knew that I was watching him on your orders."
"You cleared him once." He pointed out, still red-faced in anger. "Are you sure this isn't you trying to retaliate against him for the jabberjays?"
She ignored his accusations and gently put down the rose on the coffee table. It was already long dead but the image of it stayed alive and young only because of the glass. "I have more to lose either way but I am being honest when I say that the Quell is not going to destroy any forms of rebellion—if anything it's fueling it—you and I both know that—you can see it and you can't ignore it or ignore me screaming that the Quell was a bad idea!"
"Plutarch only made a single mistake compared to you!"
"I'm still learning," She replied quietly. "And I've spent far less time here than he has."
He scoffed, sitting back down as he waved her off, calling sharply. "Consul Redcliff!"
Scarus entered promptly. His face was marked with a faint hint of concern as he glanced in her direction with concern that made Sera's pain momentarily transform into a hollow ache of disgust.
"Apologies for the delay, sir," His voice was steady but his gaze was not. "I had to escort a guest to her quarters and Dr. Jadewell is standing by for Sera-phine, as requested."
President Snow's expression remained steely as he leaned forward, his gaze flicking between them both. Anger still clouded his vision, tainting it red and pulling him away from the momentarily joy he felt at the spectacle the jabberjays made.
"Thank you, Consul. Now, summon the Senate and Consular Tribune—and send word to Plutarch to come back here immediately."
Scarus gave a respectful nod, his glance to Sera hesitant before he turned and exited the room again. President Snow silently waved at her, turning away from her as he clasped his head and leaned against his desk. His other hand pulled at his collar, loosening it.
The image was foreign to her. And it was an image she didn't get to see for long as she was already leaving the Palace as quickly as she could.
When she returned to the Training Center, chaos greeted her.
Mentors, Peacekeepers, and Capitol officials filled the lobby, weaving through one another in urgent motions. A few mentors were arguing with the Peacekeepers about something Sera didn't bother to pay attention. She pushed forward against the current, eyes set on the elevator across the room.
All of a sudden, a rough hand gripped her arm, tugging her aside from the wave. Haymitch pushed her into a shadowy corner of the room and shook his head at the crowd, wetting his dried lips. His expression was intense and he was focused, not half insane or half drunk.
"Before you start, I need you to listen—we're out of time." His voice was low, urgent and he was constantly looking over his shoulder. "That Gamemaker just confirmed that the last train out of here leaves in a few hours."
Sera pried his hands off of her and stood up straight. "Oh, good." She said, feigning disinterest and masking the anger she felt when she heard Plutarch's name. "You've spoken to him—tell him that I didn't appreciate that move with the jabberjays."
"He said that too." Haymitch breathed out and looked to the side. "And—"
"If he's sorry, I don't have time for that."
"He wants us out. We can either stay or—"
She sighed. "Well, you can pack your bags." She tried to brush past him and join the crowd again, only for Haymitch to grab onto her.
His grip was more slippery the second time around, his hands clammy with sweat. He breathed out heavily and shook his head. "No way you're staying behind…" She didn't say anything and looked away. He made a sound and slapped his forehead. "Oh you're kidding me—I don't have time for this, we don't have time for this—that train leaves soon so you better grab Zephyr Nikolas or anyone else you think is in on this and follow me or help me!" He hissed out.
"Sera!" Emilia exclaimed, her voice was a mixture of urgency and dread. She rushed over with her arms heavy with Sera's bags, breathless and frantic.
Haymitch became alert and reached for his pocket but Sera held out her hand towards him. She motioned Emilia to continue but not before signaling that Emilia was on her side.
"What is he doing here?" Emilia asked quietly. "Is he—" Sera nodded. "My son's already out." She turned to Haymitch and hissed out. "You should've been gone by now."
"I'm trying to! I don't know where that train even goes but I know better not to stay here." His fists clenched at his sides.
"It'll take you somewhere safe." Sera patted his shoulder and tried to push him to leave.
Emilia ignored Haymitch and bit her lips, focusing on Sera, shaking from head to toe. "...Somehow word got out that they are going to start executing the stylists now." Her face paled as she spoke, lighter than the lavender facepaint on her face and Sera's did too.
Sera spared a look at Haymitch. His tough exterior cracked for just a moment, a flicker of grief in his eyes before he quickly masked it with a hardened resolve.
"Nothing we can do about them." He said and grabbed Sera. "You're coming with me. If I have to, I'll haul you to the train myself. I promised Finnick I'd get you out of here." His voice was a mix of anger and something softer, a hint of vulnerability buried beneath the weight of loss.
She looked away and stabbed herself with her nails. Guilt washed over her, a tide of self-loathing that churned in her stomach. She had promised Finnick she wouldn't let anyone get hurt, especially not herself and that she meet him on the outside of the arena.
But the flash of red hair that she saw back at the Presidential Palace replayed back in her mind. She couldn't keep Finnick's promise no matter how hard she tried. It was suffocating her to know that she lied to him…again and that she wouldn't see him for a while or ever.
Her eyes dimmed and her vision darkened. From the corner of her eyes, twisted forms of her former allies stood there watching her with nothing but pity in their gazes. No anger or resentment, just pity from those long dead.
With shaking hands, Sera rifled through one of her bags, heart racing as she pulled out the twin rings—their engagement rings. The black pearl rings still shone bright among her darkened vision. She held them out in front of her, the metal cool against her palm before she put them back into its velvet box.
"Take them." She said, her voice barely above a whisper, heavy with the weight of unshed tears.
She tossed the box over to Haymitch who caught it. He fumbled around with it for a second, the box gradually getting heavier in his hands before he steadied himself.
He looked down at the box and at her, glancing back and forth repeatedly as he shook his head.
His eyes lost color as he did so. "Seraphine—"
A deafening explosion ripped through the air, cutting him off mid-sentence. The floor shook violently. Instinctively, Sera pulled Emilia close, shielding her as smoke and fire began to engulf the building. Panic surged through the crowd as screams erupted, drowning out the chaos.
"PLEASE REMAIN CALM!" A few Peacekeepers tried to project over the chaos, only to be drowned out by a loud ringing alarm. "Hey! No pushing or shoving!"
The lights overhead flickered ominously, bathing everything in a haunting red glow. A mechanical voice boomed through the chaos, attempting to instill a false sense of calm.
"Please remain calm."
"Emergency procedures are in place."
She laughed at the familiarity of it all, somehow it all felt bitterly nostalgic except there was no Finnick and she wasn't on the train.
"Follow the Peacekeepers to safety."
"Your safety is our number one priority."
The lights flickered again, plunging the space into darkness before flashing back on and off again, disorienting her. Emilia pulled her to the side and covered their mouth with her scarf. She kept their heads down as water rained down on them bathed in a dangerously crimson hue.
In the chaos, she lost sight of Haymitch who had been engulfed by the tsunami of people trying to rush out and smoke that fogged up the building.
She coughed and uncovered her face. A mistake on her part. Immediately, she was hit by the burning chemical stench and an unbearable heat.
Acrid smoke filled her lungs, choking her. She struggled to breathe as she clawed at her neck and tried to push past the crowd towards the front entrance.
The pounding of her heart in her ears drowned out everything else. Her grip on Emilia slipped but she quickly grappled onto the embroidered threads on Emilia's coat, pulling her closer and losing her footing. She fell to the floor with Emilia, breathing in sharply as the fog of smoke thickened.
Between the heat and smoke, she felt unnaturally cold. A sharp ringing overtook the screams, deafening her to all sounds, even her own heartbeat. She let go of Emilia and covered her ears as the sharp noise became louder and louder. Her vision became blurry, plunging her into haze and then the lights went out.