Chapter 71: Purge the Poison
PART V : Blossoms of War
"Pale flakes with fingering stealth come feeling for our faces
We cringe in holes, back on forgotten dreams, and stare, snow-dazed,
Deep into grassier ditches. So we drowse, sun-dozed,
Littered with blossoms trickling where the blackbird fusses.
Is it that we are dying?"
Exposure
- By Wilfred Owen
Sera pressed her back against the cold white metal walls and stared straight ahead at the opaque glass window in front of her, keeping eye contact with the shadows moving beyond the glass. Her morose reflection stared back at her.
Two cameras at the corners of the room pointed at her and a quiet hum of electricity. She could hear muffled faint voices from the other side of the cell window. She wasn't alone.
Her vision flickered and she jumped, thinking the lights above were going off. She heard shuffling of feet, small tiny steps, multiplying rapidly mixed in with the sound of sloshing.
"Seraphine?" The distorted voices were getting closer.
The voice wasn't real.
She knew she was alone in that cell. The other side of it was a whole nother story. There was someone on the other side. She knew there was.
She bit the insides of her cheeks, drawing blood. A few drops went down her throat and she clenched her teeth to stop herself from throwing up over the unnaturally white sheets. She didn't want to stain them even if they always stayed white.
No matter what she did, how much she tried to stain them, those sheets would always turn white when she opened her eyes. White and untouched, the voices would be gone with them but her arms would have small barely visible red spots.
Shakily, she dragged herself over to the blacked out window, her knees scraping against the smooth metal floor. Rubbing her cold hands together for some warmth, she placed her hands on the window and pulled herself close, trying to peek out.
Faint stench of blood, antiseptic and sweat hung in the air. She could smell it strongly now that she was out from her little cocoon she'd made on her temporary bed. The stench of blood was particularly stronger as she leaned her head close to her hands.
Her arms were dyed in faded mottled red. They weren't painful, just a light stinging sensation, a little numb to touch and sometimes she forgot it was even there.
Turning away from her stained arms, Sera flattened herself against the glass and she saw nothing but the reflection of herself and her flooded icy room. The red water swayed by itself, pushing and pulling the corpses littering its tides without a lick of wind. She froze as the red water began to rise and freeze slowly.
Ice began to form on the deep crimson surface. Her graying face reflected on the smooth frozen source, her reflection distorted and was replaced by another pale one.
Bloodless lips and cheeks, half frozen in despair. For a second, Sera's hazy mind couldn't recognize the face. Even with the harsh white hot light shining brightly above her, she couldn't see the face or seem to recognize it at all.
A strange panic surged within her and she licked her dried lips, she tried pushing herself above the biting still waters and onto the ice.
"Ah!" Sera let out a yelp and bit the bottom of her lips.
Cold frostbitten hands wrapped her ankle and pulled her back towards the waters. Her head slammed against the ice, awakening the corpse underneath the ice. His face scrunched up, distorting to confusion from despair as pain burned through Sera's body.
Her nerves were on fire and her blood was freezing in her veins. She couldn't breathe, puffs of frozen air escaped her lungs with the urge to let go of the ice and claw out her throat growing stronger.
She couldn't breathe. Her lungs…her lungs ached…they were burning. She gasped for air and clawed at the ice, pounding it in desperation.
The ice cracked, breaking her skin. Bloodied water broke through the surface before she could get to him on the other side. His eyes shut yet he was screaming silently in confusion and despair. Her mind was a mess and there was a faint metallic taste in the back of her throat. She couldn't hear anything but static. Her veins were also on fire. She knew the symptoms too well.
'It's...not real.'
Yet she couldn't stop pounding on the ice. She kept going despite the currents and the hands trying to drag her under. The man in the ice stirred, his icy hand shooting out and latching onto her wrist, sending a chilling jolt through her body.
Sera's eyes widened as she caught a glimpse of his damp bronze hair, a haunting familiarity tugging at the edges of her memory. A name danced on the tip of her tongue, only to be drowned by the overwhelming taste of liquid iron that filled her senses.
Desperation drove her to reach out towards him, her fingers brushing against his hand. In that instant, a sharp pain erupted along her arm as white rose thorns unfurled from the small red marks that speckled her skin. The thorns spiraled outward, curling around her wrist like a living chain, each prick drawing fresh droplets of crimson that mingled with the icy red water.
"Sera!" His sea-green gaze locked onto hers, filled with both agony and recognition.
She rolled her tongue in her mouth, her mind in disarray. "...Finn." She managed to breathe out his name before she was pulled above the surface, gasping for air.
With a ragged breath, Sera's eyes fluttered open. Her nightmare dissipated, replaced by a pair of burning golden eyes peering down at her without a hint of warmth in them.
She bit her tongue hard, anchoring herself to reality and slipped on a mask of indifference on her face. The metallic tang of blood grounded her as the world around her refocused.
Scarus tilted his head to the side. "Ah, you're awake." His voice was deceptively soft, laced with an unsettling bitterness.
In response, Sera blinked and looked away apathetically yet from the corner of her eyes, she studied him carefully. He was dressed in a gray armor similar to the ones Peacekeepers wore with a white shroud covering his shoulders and a pistol resting on his hips along with several knives and ammunition.
Pushing herself upright, she ignored the sharp pull in her muscles.
"Let me help—" Scarus began, moving toward her, his hands outstretched.
"No!" She snapped, jerking away from his approach. Her body twisted instinctively, avoiding his touch. His jaws tightened and knuckles turned white before he let out a sigh to relax himself. "I'm fine."
He halted mid-step, arms dropping to his sides. "My apologies," He said. "I'll give you some space. I know this must be overwhelming for you." But Sera didn't need to look hard to see the hollowness behind his words.
His apology lasted a minute before he reached forward, unfurled her sleeves with meticulous care, smoothing the fabric over her trembling arms.
"Don't push yourself." He murmured into her ear, his fingers trailing lightly along her forearm. The touch was featherlight but heavy and painful at the same time, sending an involuntary shiver up her spine. "I don't want you to hurt yourself."
She nodded to herself and clutched her head. 'How long had she been in there?'
"W-why am I here? What happened?" She asked, not really expecting answers.
"Easy there." Scarus pulled the blanket above her waist, making sure to leave his withering icy touch over her as he dragged the fabric across her. "I need you to relax before I can answer any of your questions."
"Relax?" She echoed with a scoff and bitter half-smile.
Scarus flinched. "You're…upset."
"Upset?"
"Angry."
"Angry?"
"Scared."
"Scared?"
"...Confused, would be better."
She echoed his words breathlessly, choking back a cough. "Sure, let's say…I'm confused and maybe a little upset but who…wouldn't be if they found themselves in…a cage."
"Cell." Scarus corrected quickly and grabbed a glass of water, passing it to her. She ignored it. "It's a cell, one of the more…comfortable ones."
"Flattered." She replied dryly. "Where's Emilia? My assistant?"
He poked the insides of his cheek with his tongue. "Emilia Merchant is currently under investigation."
"Under investigation for what?"
He grinned and her eyes darkened, not even hiding the rage she felt behind a mask. Yet he didn't back off, he expected her anger and even relished in it. It was one of the few rare times he ever got to see her true emotions.
Licking his lips, he leaned in. "I was really worried that all that smoke, fire and fumes got you—you know you have a really…weak body."
"I'm fine." She spat out and wretched her hand away from him, pushing herself into one of the few padded corners of the cell. "And I'm sure the smoke's not the reason I'm here, is it? I'm not the one who blew up the Training Center."
"Or the arena."
"The arena blew up?"
"Factually speaking, the shields around it imploded from the inside thanks to some…rebellious victors."
Sera froze. She didn't even know it was possible for the shields to fall or even implode. Confusion was etched onto her face clearly under the harsh bright white lights, no signs of pretend or play.
Maybe that's why she noted that Scarus was visibly relaxing. His deep engraved wrinkles which accompanied his prominent scar, faded a little, aging him down just a bit. He leaned back on his seat, still holding the cup.
"It's just water." He tried to reassure, tilting the cup to its side but she ignored him, trying to piece together her disjointed memories. "You haven't had a sip of water for two weeks now."
'Two weeks', echoed in her head.
The games must've ended two weeks ago with the arena breaking apart and the Training Center catching fire. Two weeks since she'd been kept under a forced sleep and two weeks since she'd last seen Haymitch and Emilia.
She wanted to press Scarus for more, her mind was screaming at her to move and break the glass in his hand. Press a glass shard against his neck and squeeze out the answers from him.
But she couldn't. Scarus had the upper hand and he wasn't off his mind of drugs or poison. If she made one mistake, that cell would be her tomb.
Her lips quaked and curved into a painted smile that looked off on her dried lips yet to Scarus she still looked pretty.
"So…who won?"
And Scarus' face dropped. Nothing but twisted rage and…a sliver of jealousy were on his face.
Scarus who loved the games now despised them with his entire being. His body stilled and became rigid with rage with his face turning a shade of red from the tips of his ears down to his neck.
He stood up, backing away from her, his head towards the floor and he circled around the room in silent rage, trying to calm down.
He circled around thrice around the cell. His heavy boots stomped around the metalic floor rhythmlessly as Sera leaned back to watch him. He'd answer her soon enough, she knew he would.
"So who won?" She asked again, a hint of mockery in her voice.
A small biting chuckle escaped him and he stopped right at the foot of her temporary bed. "There were no victors."
"You mean victor."
"That's what I meant."
"Then what happened?" She asked, leaning closer to him. Her black messy unkempt hair cascaded down the sides of her face like a mourning veil. "The arena imploded? Yes. No victors. What happened to those that lived?"
He pursed his lips and pulled back aside the dark curtains on her face in a brutish tender manner. "You don't have to worry about that?"
Her gaze only hardened in response and he winced. "Don't I? So why am I here…Icarus?" She dropped the blanket on the floor, her piercing gaze on him as he stumbled back at the sudden call of his own name.
"For…your safety."
She let out a broken giggle and threw her head back to count the tiles on the ceiling. "Do you honestly think I'm stupid Icarus? You know the…President kept me around for a reason and no, it's not…because of this," She looked down and pointed to her face. "A pretty face is a dime in a dozen around here and you know that, don't you Icarus? You know why I was always next to him?"
Scarus nodded once. "I'd like to believe I didn't know."
"Would it help you?"
His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, his lips pressing into a thin line. "You're asking too many questions."
"I just…want to know where I am and why I'm here. That's not a lot to ask considering everything…I've done for the Capitol…and," Her knees wavered, but she straightened her back and met his gaze. "for him."
He combed through his dried aged blood red hair and looked up at the ceiling. The room felt so small that he had to look over his shoulder at Sera. He pitied her for a second before it was replaced with betrayal.
With a tired sigh, he gestured broadly, circling his arm around the cell. "I'm sorry but this," He gestured at the cell around her again with more force. "Is a simple a precaution for you and…others—"
"Others?" She echoed. "Like who? The other victors, stylists or escorts? Who?"
"Mostly victors." He answered, tinged with fury and again…betrayal.
Sera nodded to herself. She had an idea that she wasn't the only one in these cells. There were still others in the Capitol, the mentors who'd stayed behind for their fellow victors in the arena.
But the arena had collapsed—no doubt Beetee's work. There had to be survivors inside the arena. By the time she'd been asleep, she knew Plutarch was long gone from the Capitol. She wasn't so sure about Haymitch, the rest of the other mentors didn't have the time but what about the ones inside the arena?
What about Finnick? Johanna? Beetee? Katniss? Peeta? Enobaria? Brutus? Chaff?
Those questions were weighing heavily in her mind. Finnick's name repeated itself in her mind as she tried to keep her face blank under Scarus' scrutinizing gaze.
'Did Finnick make it out?'
"What happened while I was out?"
Her desperation nearly crawled out of her throat, but she shoved it down with practiced indifference. She'd die before she begged Scarus for answers. Her pride and hate burned too deeply in her to act on such dark thoughts.
Scarus's golden eyes glinted with amusement. He tilted his head slightly, the corners of his lips twitching into a faint smirk.
"I can't answer that," He said smoothly, stepping closer, his tone dripping with mockery. "And you're not in any position to demand for answers—none of you are."
"There's other victors in here too." She said to herself and asked. "Are they my neighbors?"
His lips twitched and he only nodded once, giving her more answers than she needed. "You'll be free to go once you answer a few questions."
"Somehow I don't believe that."
"Again, Seraphine," He leaned forward, towering over her. "You are not in a good position right now and you should remember that."
"After everything I've done…" She murmured, her jaws tightening.
He let out a sharp, humorless laugh, shaking his head. "You know you're just an investment, right? An investment, the President is starting to regret just like the others. You should be grateful for the grace you've been given."
She ignored his mocking tone and the sting behind his words. Her lips curled into a faint, bitter smile as she asked, her voice steady, "Were there any survivors from the arena?"
The question struck a nerve. Scarus's expression darkened, his smirk fading into a scowl. He pursed his lips after letting out a heavy breath. He tapped his feet on the ground and watched her in silence.
Without warning, he grabbed her wrist in a vice-like grip, yanking her forward before shoving her back down onto the bed. The mattress creaked under their weight, he had her pinned there, one hand pressing against her shoulder while the other held her wrist.
She gasped for air that was knocked out of her lungs and glared up. His face inches from hers.
"Let me ask you something," He whispered, leaning closer, his breath brushing her cheek. "Are you worried about Finnick Odair?"
Her heart stuttered for a moment, but she quickly masked it, letting out a sharp, hollow laugh that echoed in the small cell. "Is that it? That's one of the questions they want to ask me? I didn't realize President Snow cared so much about—"
He let go of her shoulder and instead reached for her exposed throat. "I'd be very careful with what I say if I were you." His smirk faltered slightly.
She pressed on, ignoring his threat. "Is this you letting your emotions get the best of you, Icarus? Careful, Consul. You've worked so hard to earn your place. It would be a shame if your little outburst here cost you everything. I know you're aiming for the top—you want to be the…President, don't you?"
"I don't know what you mean."
"But I do." She gasped out, clasping her hands around his wrist. "I know you, Icarus better than you know me."
"Shut up!" He leaned down, his lips hovering over hers as he pressed her down harder on the mattress.
"Does he know? Does…President Snow know that he's keeping a snake, not a hunting mutt?"
His eyes twitched and his cold gloved hands tightened around her throat, squeezing it. She let out a groan of pain, biting down her lips and kicking her feet up.
"Don't…forget," She tilted her chin toward the corner of the room. "there are cameras in here."
Momentarily, Scarus's grip tightened before he released her abruptly. His expression was unreadable, but his clenched fists betrayed his irritation.
"You should've just played your part," He said coldly and reached for the glass of water, offering it to her again. "Like the President asked you to."
Sera tilted her head, a bitter smirk forming on her lips. "And you should've played your part, Consul and continued to hate me, would've been easier for you."
His brow furrowed at her words, and a flicker of something—confusion, maybe regret—crossed his face. "...I never hated you." He said softly.
"Really? Because I distinctly remember you telling me I didn't deserve to win." Her brow arched, and she gave him a humorless smile. "Losing for me—any tribute—meant death. You might as well have just told me to go die."
"I didn't mean it," Scarus said quickly, his voice softer now, almost desperate. "I was young. I didn't understand—"
"Didn't understand what?" Sera cut him off sharply, leaning forward with a piercing glare. "You were right. I should've died. It would've been better for everyone. For me."
The room fell into a tense silence, her words landing like a punch to his gut. Scarus's hands trembled at his sides and he stared at the still water in the glass in Sera's hand. His anger evaporated, leaving behind only the shadow of a boy who'd never been loved.
Slowly, he sank to his knees before her, his head bowing slightly as if the weight of his guilt was too much to bear.
"Seraphine, please." He said, his voice breaking. "I'm sorry."
"Sorry?" She barked out with a cold laugh. "You were just choking me a minute ago and now you're sorry."
"I care about you and all I'm asking is that you answer the questions we—I ask you. Answer them and you'll be cleared."
"Why should I? Because I can be executed if I don't?" She shifted in her seat. "Please, I'm going to die either way, Consul whether I get out or stay."
His jaw tightened, frustration flickering in his golden eyes. "Are you doing this for him?" His voice dipped lower, the weight of his words landing like a hammer. "For Finnick Odair? You still have your family, Seraphine. Don't throw their lives away for someone on the run for treason."
"On the run for treason?" Her brow furrowed in mock confusion, but the mention of Finnick sent a wave of relief washing over her.
He made it out.
A flicker of warmth stirred deep inside her chest, momentarily loosening the icy grip of fear and despair. She exhaled slowly, composing herself before fixing Scarus with a blank expression.
"What do you mean by treason?"
Scarus ignored her question. "This isn't about him, Seraphine. It's about you. Answer the questions. I don't want you to end up like the others—like the victors who didn't get complete clearance."
Her stomach twisted. She kept her voice steady. "Since when does the Capitol…execute the victors of the Hunger Games?"
The flicker of unease in Scarus's yellow-golden eyes gave him away. He realized too late what he had just said or what he was saying. Sera had managed to make him give away too much. His lips pressed into a thin line. His shoulders tensed as he straightened, regaining his harsh composure.
"That's not your concern." He snapped. "Focus. Did you know if there was a plan for rebellion among the past victors?"
"A rebellion?" She repeated softly, tilting her head as if genuinely confused.
"Yes." Scarus's tone sharpened, leaning closer as though trying to pry the truth directly from her mind. "Did you know about it? Were you part of it?"
She bit back. "I'm wise enough to know that a rebellion is not a good idea."
"Doesn't matter if it's a good or bad idea. We might be in the midst of a rebellion right now and we need to know if you were a part of it and passing information to them or aiding them in any way possible."
She scoffed and tightened her grip on the glass. "I have worked for President Snow since I won my games—"
"So have Beetee, Finnick and Wiress along with many other suspected rebels." He cut her off impatiently. "You're not an exception."
"Ah, right. I'm an investment."
"Seraphine." He warned, coming closer to her again. "Just answer the question."
She leaned back slightly, her posture stiff. "Like I said, a rebellion is a bad idea and I wouldn't get involved without knowing the risks it might have on my family."
"So you didn't know what those rebel victors were planning?"
"Most of the victors didn't trust me. They knew my place was next to President Snow, and I didn't even know most of their names so if there were any rebels among them…I couldn't tell you that."
Scarus tilted his head, studying her. "And yet somehow, Finnick Odair fell in love with you." He tapped a finger against his temple.
Sera ignored the barb, staring at the glass in her hand. "I sounded the warning alarm about Plutarch Heavensbee, you know the Gamemaker in charge of the games." She said, her voice sharper now. "Is he not being questioned? The implosion of the arena is his responsibility not mine. He should've taken better precautions to make sure the arena stayed intact."
His jaw tightened, and for a moment, silence hung between them. The weight of it pressed against her chest as Scarus's gaze flickered, his control faltering. Finally, he stepped forward and pushed the glass closer to her lips.
"Drink." He ordered, his voice low but firm.
Reluctantly, she lifted the glass to her mouth and sipped the water. Before she could react, Scarus's hand closed over hers, tilting the glass upward until she drank more until it was empty. She tried to pull away, to spit out the water but his other hand clasped her mouth shut, forcing her to swallow.
The water was choking her. She coughed violently as he pulled back. He leaned in closer, his golden eyes burning into hers. "Plutarch Heavensbee," He said quietly. "escaped from the Capitol when the Training Center and arena blew up."
"I…was right." She set the glass down on the floor.
"So you were."
"I…didn't trust Plutarch," She replied coolly, her voice laced with careful detachment. "I was…watching…him. E-everyone thought…it was personal."
And then Plutarch made it personal by using Finnick against her and her against him—the jabberjays, she'd never forget those mutts.
"I was told you cleared him."
"I made a mistake."
Scarus leaned in, eyes narrowing, unwilling to let her off that easily. "Why did you suspect Plutarch, then?"
Sera shrugged. "President Snow should know, I did tell him everything I knew."
Scarus's eyes narrowed further, his annoyance growing. He nodded slowly, noting down her responses. "Right," He muttered and quickly followed up with another question just when she thought he was done, his tone changing slightly. "Did you know Finnick Odair was part of the rebellion? He escaped the arena along with Katniss Everdeen and Beetee Latier. We also suspect that Plutarch Heavensbee was in the same hovercraft along with his assistant Fulvia Cardew."
Her bloodshot silver eyes widened in feigned shock as she let out a choked breath, clutching her chest. "Finnick? He wou–wouldn't. He couldn't. W-why—why would he?"
"Because he was being sold." Scarus replied like he was talking to a child. "I'm sure you knew that he was selling his body and he couldn't do it anymore. I can't believe you let someone like that demean you like that—he didn't deserve—"
"Stop! Stop!" She shook her head and pushed herself back into the padded corner, shaking her head as her eyes watered up in feigned distress. "He—I can't believe he—"
"Was being sold or the fact he betrayed Panem." He cocked his head to the side. "He might've even approached you for information. You might've been used by him. Maybe," His voice was low and dangerous. "He never cared about you at all or he wouldn't have left you here. Then again, Annie Cresta was also in these cells and I'm sure you've heard about the rumors..."
She lifted her head at the mention of Annie. With a small, almost playful smile, she said. "You know, green might go with your hair, but it really clashes with your eyes. It makes you look ugly."
Before a retort could leave his lips, the door creaked open. President Snow stepped inside, flanked by four Peacekeepers. The tension in the room shifted immediately. Scarus stood at attention, his earlier annoyance slipping away in the face of Snow's arrival.
"She doesn't know about the rebellion," Scarus reported. "Or so she claims like the rest did."
President Snow nodded. His gaze shifted to Sera, and a smile, one that didn't quite reach his eyes, spread across his face. "You're free to come out now, Seraphine."
"When can I take the train back to Five?" Sera asked, her voice steady and her face blank.
Snow's smile grew, but it was empty. "I'm afraid you're not done here, Seraphine. You still have so much to do in the Capitol. You still haven't made up for your mistake, one involving Finnick Odair."
Her throat tightened at the mention of Finnick, but she managed to swallow the bitterness rising within her. "As if staying in this cell wasn't enough."
"Freshen up and get changed. After that, join me for dinner. There's much to discuss."
Hesitantly, Sera stepped out of the cell, her shoulders tensing as she crossed the threshold. Behind her, Scarus moved to follow, but Snow raised a hand, stopping him in his tracks.
"You're needed elsewhere." President Snow said without turning. "It's almost time for the hangings. I trust you'll ensure everything proceeds as planned."
Scarus gave a sharp nod and turned on his heel, leaving without another word. His absence was a small relief, but it did little to calm Sera. The moment the door behind her shut, she felt the stark difference between the cell's sterile brightness and the dim, oppressive hallway before her.
The corridor stretched wide and long, darkness clinging to its edges. The artificial lights overhead flickered faintly, casting eerie, shifting shadows. The air was thick, warmer than inside the cell, and every breath felt heavier, harder to take.
Sera blinked rapidly, struggling to adjust to the dimness after the harsh white light of the cell. Her pulse quickened and static rang in her ear before giving away to an unwelcome sound echoed faintly in her mind—a grating, metallic scraping that sent chills down her spine.
Grrr. Tek. Grr. Tek. Tek. Tek. Tek.
Her breath hitched and she took a careful step back as the darkness distorted and melded into itself before giving away to an abandoned hospital hall. Ice, blood and dirt covered the rusted metal gurneys, seats and tables.
Tek. Grrr. Tek.
From the shadows, a tall human-like figure dragged itself out.
Sera shook her head, blinking rapidly trying to erase the images from her mind. Red and bloody. No ears. No eyes or a nose, only a mouth filled with rows of razor sharp teeth.
Her breathing hitched as the scraping sound reverberated through her skull, persistent. She froze, her fingers twitching involuntarily; she wanted to reach for her knives. She glanced over her shoulder, only to find herself staring at the cold steel door of her cell as it slammed shut with a resounding clang.
The Peacekeepers that accompanied President Snow stood nearby stoically. Their shiny blank helmets reflected the dim light of the corridor. She wasn't alone.
'It wasn't real', she reminded herself as she dug her nails into the soft dried flesh of her palms, wincing as the pain cut through the haze in her mind.
Drawing a shaky breath, she straightened and followed after President Snow, her legs heavy with fatigue. Every step felt like dragging herself through thick snow.
Every few steps there were wide ceiling-length windows, like the ones in her cell, lining each side of the wall with a single door to the side. Some were blacked out both inside and out but most of them, she could see through them like a fishbowl.
The cells were slightly different from hers. They were less padded and smaller, some were more cramped than others, smaller than her childhood bedroom with barely enough room to take three steps.
Some cells were pristine, untouched with white walls glaring under the bright light from the inside. Others were far from clean, their surfaces stained with splatters of dried and fresh blood. In a few, shadows moved—people.
Her gaze flicked from cell to cell, her breath catching. She recognized faces among them.
Augustus.
Reef.
Kaia.
Peridot.
Nova.
Leif.
Some of the other victors were in there and the more she looked around, the more she could see. One victor that she barely recognized from her studies into the past games was dragged out of his cell, unconscious and bloody. Blood covered his face and neck, running down to the floor and staining the gray metal floor in its ugly crimson hue.
No names came to her mind when she saw him but she knew he was a victor from years back before she'd even been born. A victor that shouldn't have been in the Capitol at all and he was head.
Her throat tightened and she stepped back as his body passed her, the Peacekeepers dragging him barely spared her a glance and she didn't look at them either. Her gaze was fixed on the dead victor.
The dead victor's glassy brown eyes stared into the void. His mouth hung open in a silent scream, and the grotesque hole in the center of his forehead made her stomach churn. Torture marks crisscrossed his neck—slashes carved into his flesh; they wanted him to suffer before delivering the final shot.
She shook her head and looked away.
'This is all in my head.' Her mind repeated. 'Just another hallucination.'
Sera dug her nails into her palms again, but no amount of pain could shake the image from her mind. A cold sweat broke across her forehead and she tried to clear her mind, pretend like she was anywhere but that long hallway that felt like it stretched on for miles.
"Did Consul Redcliff mention how fortunate you are, Seraphine?" President Snow asked nonchalantly, stopping abruptly in between two cells: Peridot's and Reef's.
His cold voice dragged her out of her denial. She glanced up at him, his expression unreadable.
Fortunate? Her chest tightened and she realized as she stared at Peridot and Reef that this wasn't a hallucination. It was real.
Her lips parted, but no words came out. Panic threatened to claw its way out, but she pushed it back. "What did they give me?" She demanded, her voice hoarse.
Vague amusement flickered across his face. "What do you mean?"
"You know what I mean." She took a trembling step forward and tried to keep her anger in check. Peacekeepers hovered nearby along with doctors and nurses.
Without hesitation, she rolled up her sleeves, revealing the needle marks that dotted her chalky skin. She held up her arm to the dim lights and brought it close to him.
"Can you at least explain these?" She said, her voice sharp as a blade. "Tell me, what kind of poison did you have them inject me with?"
A slow, cruel smile spread across his face. "Does it even matter Seraphine when your veins have been full of poison for years, why do you think a little more would make any difference?" Her face paled and her heart dropped. "Imagine my surprise when I looked at the charts Dr Jadewell produced while you were out and all it told me was that you," He pointed at her, shoving her back with a single touch. "Had poison in your system for years and I wondered: have you been lying to me this whole time? Were you even sick?"
"I've been sick since I was a child," She said quietly. "Long before I ever stepped into the arena." Her fingers curled into fists at her sides as she pushed herself to her feet. "And you know that. There isn't a single person in Panem who doesn't know about my illness and I can also tell you why I'm like this but I don't think you want to hear about a failed power plant again." President Snow's eyes twitched and he narrowed his gaze on her. "And you also know exactly why there's so much poison in my veins."
His eyes narrowed, and the faintest flicker of realization crossed his face. "Choose your next words carefully, Seraphine."
She didn't flinch under his gaze, but something about his silence unnerved her. His eyes bore into hers, but it wasn't her he was seeing—it was someone else. It wasn't the person he kept looking for in the dark corners of different rooms or shadows. No. It was different, a mixture of unease and self-loathing.
But it was gone in a second as the lights dimmed lower.
"You already know the answer to your questions." She said, ignoring his threat. "It's only fair you tell me what kind of poison you had them inject me with."
"Poison?" He echoed as his lips curled up into a joyless smile. "We didn't poison you, Seraphine."
"I know my symptoms. I've been seeing things and I know that's not normal. Even if I'd been dehydrated for a long time, there would be other symptoms of dehydration; there hasn't been."
His smile deepened, and he tilted his head, his gaze lingering on her. "You're probably the only one who can draw the line so cleanly between nightmare and reality. I'm almost impressed."
"It's venom, isn't it?" She guessed, not really listening to him. "You had me injected with some kind of venom."
A flicker of something crossed his face—approval, though fleeting and faint. He didn't confirm it outright, but the subtle shift in his posture told her she was right.
"I have to say it's nice to talk to you like this without you pretending to cower in fear—you're so much more enjoyable when you're full of anger." He leaned down to look her in the eye. The pungent stench of bloody roses hit her senses, making her stomach churn and vomit crawl up her throat. "I hope you can use this anger to rectify your mistakes and undo the damage Finnick Odair did."
"Mistakes? Damage?" She tilted her head to the side and swallowed the bile rising in her throat. "I don't understand—I warned you about Plutarch—"
"And it meant nothing." He spat out. "We'll have time to discuss that tonight."
A low, pained groan echoed through the corridor, stealing her attention. Her head snapped toward the sound and her eyes landed on Peridot. She was slumped over a chair, being circled by two Peacekeepers and a nurse stood in the corner of the room, watching her.
Peridot was Augustus' partner mentor for the Quell and Gloss' mentor, a career victor who surely should've never been in that condition, hunched over in pain, bleeding from her legs.
Her lower legs were slick with blood, dark and congealing where it pooled beneath her. Slowly, Peridot looked up, taking Sera by surprise. Sera had never really paid Peridot any attention, she didn't have the time but looking at her in front of her in that dim hallway, Sera had to stop.
The resemblance to Cashmere struck her instantly—the same sharp features, the same golden locks that framed her face. But Peridot's eyes…they were different. Yet they were similar enough for her to look twice. Maybe the two were related or maybe Cashmere's ghost had decided to haunt her.
Peridot's gaze flicked up, her glassy eyes locking onto the window of her cell. Sera froze, her heart skipping a beat as a chill ran down her spine.
For a moment, she thought Peridot could see her. But she looked away and let out a shriek and bit her tongue. The metallic crack of a whip echoed down the hallway, the sound sending a jolt through Sera. Through the muffled hum of the hallway, she could faintly hear the Peacekeepers' raised voices.
"Just tell us what you know!"
"Cooperate or we'll drag out your suffering."
The whip lashed again, drawing a fresh scream from Peridot. "I don't know anything!" She begged, her voice breaking. "Please! I don't know anything!"
Sera clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms. She closed her eyes and blew out a puff of air, clearing her mind to distance herself from what she was seeing.
Peridot was not her fault.
"If you want this to stop," One of the Peacekeepers barked, "admit to your charges."
Peridot's body trembled as she struggled to lift her head. "I'm innocent!" She cried out.
"Innocent? We have you on record meeting with Finnick Odair."
Peridot's eyes widened, her mouth opening in a silent plea. "It was for a job," She whispered hoarsely, then louder, with more urgency. "A client wanted us both. It was nothing more! I did everything I was asked to!" Her voice cracked, her words spilling out in a frantic torrent. "Pl-please! Please! I gave up on marriage! I gave up the ability to have children! I did everything they wanted! Please, you have to believe me! Please!"
The words struck a nerve, but it was the hollow look in Peridot's eyes that solidified what Sera already suspected. She had been sold just like Finnick, Cashmere and Gloss.
Peridot wasn't going to leave that cell alive.
President Snow's gaze lingered on Peridot's trembling form as he broke the silence. "I don't think…there's ever been a victor as fortunate as you Seraphine."
Sera forced herself to nod. "Thank you, Mr President." She said numbly.
He turned to her, his pale eyes gleaming with something twisted. "Tell me what would be a fitting end for Miss Peridot?"
Her stomach dropped. Her mouth dried up, at loss for any words. She stared at him wide-eyed, mouth agape, blinking in disbelief. She almost laughed, thinking it must be a cruel joke but his gaze was cold and face empty of any signs of humor.
He was serious.
She inhaled sharply, forcing herself to focus, distance herself from Peridot. She didn't know her and it didn't matter if she looked hauntingly similar to Cashmere. It didn't matter. She'd already sent Cashmere to her death.
Why was she so—why did she even care? It wasn't like her to. The venom. It had to be the venom they injected her with that was sending her mind into disarray.
"A quick death," She answered, easily masking the unease clawing at her insides. "It would be...cleaner. There's no saying what she might reveal otherwise and I don't know how much you trust those Peacekeepers and that nurse. For all we know, her words could damage some very important people."
His lips curved into a cold smile and he nodded, turning away from her. "Shoot her."
The windows to Peridot's cell flickered, becoming transparent. Peridot jolted awake, her terrified eyes darted around before locking onto Sera's. A flicker of recognition passed through those glassy orbs as her breathing became heavier.
Peridot could see her.
"Ser—" Peridot's voice cracked, but before her name was fully spoken, a single gunshot silenced her.
Her body collapsed, her head lolling unnaturally to one side. Sera stood frozen, watching as life drained from Peridot's eyes.
The sharp crack of another gunshot jolted her, drawing her attention to the next cell. Reef from District 4 dropped to the ground, his body crumpling against the cold floor.
Peridot's death was the signal to the start of a distorted symphony. The shots kept coming, echoing down the long corridor. Sera's stomach twisted as the chilling sounds of gunfire filled the air.
A Peacekeeper emerged from the shadows, saluting President Snow. "Ten have been taken care of, sir." He reported mechanically.
President Snow gave a curt nod while his icy gaze scanned the halls. "Good. Seven more will join them tonight and there's five more coming in later tomorrow. You all have been doing a good job of taking care of Panem's safety, not everyone can say the same."
With a sharp nod, the Peacekeeper stepped back into the shadows, his form disappearing as quickly as he had appeared. The moment he vanished, a horde of Peacekeepers emerged from the cells, their boots clanging against the cold metal floor as they dragged bodies out into the hallway.
Sera stiffened, forcing her eyes to the ground. The edges of her vision caught glimpses of lifeless figures. Blood trailed across the floor, staining the pristine uniforms of the Peacekeepers and the near clean floors.
She recognized a few. Kaia, her hair matted and covering her bruised face, was among the first. Her partner Reef followed, his jacket with District 4 emblem was torn and smeared with dirt. A few more faces passed her by, a few she recognized and a few she didn't.
Then it was Peridot, her golden locks now dull and streaked with crimson. Sera couldn't help but keep her eyes on Peridot's corpse. She really did look a lot like Cashmere.
From the ones he recognized there was Kaia, Reef and Peridot. Seven's Leif, Three's Nova and Augustus were not there. Maybe they'd already died, tossed aside and Sera had missed it.
'Zephyr's not there either.'
Zephyr wasn't there. Sera looked around the different cells for a glimpse of another familiar face, of Zephyr or maybe Haymitch. Her heart hammered in her chest despite her blank face, she was afraid that Zephyr was gone and it was her fault. He should've left when he had the chance, gone home to Clarisse with Huxley.
A sudden, metallic groan echoed through the hallway. She froze, hoping that it wasn't Zephyr's body or maybe it was Zephyr but alive. Her head snapped to the source of the sound and her hope died just as she saw Augustus being dragged from his cell. She didn't react and ignored his heavy gaze on her.
It wasn't Zephyr.
Augustus was alive but barely. His steps faltered as the Peacekeepers hauled him forward, his head lolling to one side. Bruises marred his face, and dried blood clung to his torn shirt. He looked like a ghost of the man in her memories.
President Snow's face twisted in disapproval as his gaze fell on Augustus. "What did I tell you about his face?" He hissed.
One of the Peacekeepers flinched. "Apologies, sir," He said and avoided the President's eyes. "He was giving us too much trouble."
Sighing, President Snow rubbed his temple and nodded. "Don't repeat that with two in the upper cells."
The Peacekeepers saluted, their faces unreadable behind their helmets. President Snow waved them away, but his hand lingered in the air, stopping two in their tracks. "You two," He pointed at two at the back of the horde. "escort Seraphine and Augustus to the Presidential Palace."
She shot a glance at Augustus, who was swaying on his feet, half-conscious. His lips moved as if forming words, but no sound escaped. He reached for her, only for his arm to be caught in a vice-like grip from one of the Peacekeepers.
Still, she said nothing and did nothing, schooling her face into practiced hollowness. She ducked her head and followed her escorts out into a dark winding tunnel. The sharp, rhythmic clang of their boots echoed ominously, sometimes she could hear that faint scraping sound alongside voices calling out her name.
Ignoring them, she kept her head forward, her gaze fixed on the faint light ahead at the end of the tunnel. The tunnel seemed endless, and the air grew colder with each step.
She didn't know where she was, maybe the Citadel or a labyrinth under the Training Center but all she knew was that she wasn't going back to the Victoria Apartments, her temporary shelter in the Capitol or the Training Center. They were taking her to the Palace instead.
Light broke through the darkness and she recoiled at the sudden brightness. Her eyes burned in the fading sunlight while Augustus let out a series of loud grunts before falling to his knees. Sera squinted and raised a hand to shield her eyes.
It took her a while to adjust and only when she'd finally managed to focus did she notice the bruised handprint around her wrists where Scarus had grabbed her back in the cell. She grabbed her throat and let out a hiss, ignoring the stares of the two Peacekeepers accompanying her.
A sleek black car waited a few feet ahead, its tinted windows reflecting the waning sunlight.
One of the Peacekeepers had practically shoved Augustus into the car, his limp body landing heavily against the seat.
When they'd turned to her, Sera had climbed in without complaint and smiled softly. "Thank you for your help." She said quiet enough to be heard by them.
Their reaction was subtle—a shift of weight, the smallest tilt of a helmet—as though they were thrown off by her politeness.
She twisted her body a little to look outside. The plush interior was much more comfortable than the cell she was in for the past two weeks and she felt her body sink into the seats before she remembered where she was and Augustus beside her.
The door slammed shut, sealing them in an uncomfortable silence. Augustus stirred weakly, his head lolling to the side as he tried to open his eyes.
"Will he be all right?" She asked, glancing at him and the front.
One of them shifted in their seat, the sound of armor scraping faintly audible. "There'll be medical staff at the Palace." He replied.
Sera nodded, her expression thoughtful as she leaned back slightly. "I see," she murmured, then glanced at the other Peacekeeper. She hesitated just long enough to sound genuine before asking, "Was anyone hurt in the explosion at the Training Center?"
The question hung in the air, the only sound was the faint hum of the vehicle's engine. The Peacekeepers exchanged a glance, their body language stiff. Just as one opened his mouth to reply, Augustus let out a sharp groan, his body twitching beside her.
Her jaw tightened and her hand darting to his thigh. She pressed down hard, her nails digging through the fabric into his skin. Augustus winced but bit back the sound threatening to escape, weakly looking up to glare at her.
Ignoring him, she repeated her question. It took a moment before one of them finally answered, his tone clipped. "We lost a lot of colleagues. Good people."
Good people.
She wanted to laugh but instead she said. "I'm so sorry for your loss."
The other Peacekeeper leaned forward slightly, his tone sharper, laced with accusation. "Are you sorry that your boyfriend was working with the rebels?"
"My boyfriend?"
"Finnick Odair." She kept her head down, feigning guilt. "Everyone knows about you two now. One's a rebel and the other's a saint." He jeered.
Her hand slid off Augustus' leg as though dismissing both him and the Peacekeepers before she turned back to the window. She had the answers she wanted. None of the mentors died in the explosion, most were executed in those cells.
Her eyes narrowed slightly at the oddly desolate landscape. Gone were the falsely vibrant and bright images of the Capitol. The colors had been stripped bare like the trees lining the roads leading to the palace.
The skeletal branches of the trees were dusted with a heavy layer of snow—or perhaps ash. She could smell something burning from the half-opened window in the front seat. The ground was blanketed in snow, the buildings looming in the distance stained with frost.
Fall had died while she'd been unconscious, the last remnants of warmth of that year was stolen from her in a blink of an eye. She kept her eyes on the outside world as the car wound its way through the streets of the Capitol.
It was bustling but quieter than she remembered. People moved along the sidewalks, their movements brisk against the cold. Several Capitolites turned to look.
They were dressed in less extravagantly than she remembered, still it was distinctly Capitol-like, thick brocade coats with fur trim, powdered pastel hair with frosted glitter, wintery hues soft enough to blend into the pale landscape.
Yet what stood out was how they reacted to her and Augustus. Some flinched when they noticed her and Augustus, their gazes darting away as though they couldn't bear to make eye contact.
Others lingered, their faces a mixture of curiosity and disdain. A few stepped forward, their hands half-raised as if to touch the speeding car or get a better look, only to freeze and hesitate.
Sera's eyes narrowed, taking in the strange mix of emotions etched into their faces. She saw raw anger, unfiltered fury in some and sorrow in others. It was unlike anything she'd seen before in the Capitol.
'They used to worship us.' She thought, her lips twitching in a wry smile.