EMERE LANE

Darkness.

There was a hollow feeling in the air. Heavy breaths from the four teenagers filled the vacancy with humidity and heat. Emere didn't know where he was, only certain that Jenae was not with him, and he felt endangered, trapped. If he stuck his hands out, they touched a rough surface; he was facing a wall and he didn't want to step back, fearful of the others around him. The presence was lurking like death itself, as if the enemies around him were determinative.

"Who's there?" a voice, shaky and unstable, asked. The question cut through the darkness and suddenly, Emere felt the tremors of something arising, something coming. HE didn't answer, and neither did the others. He leaned forward, head lowly hanging, neck straining as he lulled from side-to-side. The moment was a morbid kind of peaceful, because, at least, there was no blood to be spilled, no death to be worried about.

His palms, flat against the coarse wall, started to move down. A peek of light spilled into the room from above, its heavenly gold blinding. The wall was moving, sinking into the ground, taunting the tributes with a leisure pace. The brightness settled and vision returned, a brown aura replacing the black. As if his senses were betraying him, his ears ceased to work. He watched as the walls disappeared, revealing the other eight tributes- also in groups of four. Emere didn't even know the three he was with; he didn't trust them either.

Then, he saw Jenae. Her hair reflected the light the same way he remembered Clyro's. Her skin was still littered with the red markings of their previous encounter, and he truly didn't recall when they were split up. Her head was down, eyes latched onto the floor. The stare he was giving her was silent, so he wasn't surprised when she didn't return his gaze. He needed to make the contact; it was if their deaths were being plotted as the seconds passed on.

"-One team will die. Be sure it's not you," Emere finally listened in, having given up on Jenae looking at him.

Don't abandon me. Not like him.

He took the time to look at the other groups, all twelve of them lacking any inspiration to move. Their preference was to belong somewhere else- this fight had already been fought, why'd they need another? To his left and right, he saw the three on his "team". There was a sigh, of course, derived from the absence of Jenae. The room was vast, similar to where the first battle had occurred. The tapestries were gone and blank walls rose high above Emere, attaching to a ceiling that seemed nonexistent.

He took one step back, breaking the line of him and the three girls. It was the movement itself that caused his decision; he'd do nothing to help them. He walked until his back hit the wall, chest heaving with panic as the first scream arose. The panic began.

A girl's throat splashed with crimson, the body falling to the floor with a quiet thump. Emere looked to see who it was, satisfied when the hair was different than Jenae's. But the satisfaction was odd, confusing. Because if it had been Jenae, he didn't think he'd care. The girl who had died affected him with no importance, so he assumed Jenae's wouldn't either.

He walked back to his team, changing his mind and deciding to help them, now unconcerned with anyone, but himself. It didn't seem like the three had noticed, now scattering and running because the prospect of dying actually affected them. He followed in one of their footsteps, never gaining his own path or own plan. His team had split into two; he with the strongest of the three. Their pace was quick, and the girl had something in her hand that resembled a weapon. It was a stone, and Emere realized he was defenseless. Unafraid of darkness, untainted by oblivion, and defenseless.

She was faster than Emere, clearly, as he scanned the floor for any rocks sharp enough to use, while she just ran for the sake of avoiding. Emere didn't know what it was like for the other two, but it seemed like his team was going to live. He found a stone, eventually, but he hesitated to pick it up. It was covered in blood.

He looked up; the rock on the floor belonged to the girl he had been following. It was colorfully laying by the pool of her blood, and Emere dropped the hesitation and picked it up, not even willing to wipe the blood off before running more. He turned left, but was instantly thrown right when a metal shield slammed into his ribcage, knocking his breath and balance alike. The rock skipped against the stone, the high-pitch echoing before the shield came down on him again. He stuck his feet out and the shield slammed into the soles, pushing down like his knees were going to bend and break.

Emere flipped his body over, legs already beginning to ache as the muscles seemingly confined into one another. Eyes catching the rock a few feet away, he crawled over and tried grabbing. Though, he doubted it would save him.

"Jenae!" he called out, a hostile desperation laced under his tone as he felt two legs step near his. He rolled back over, giving up on the rock like he had given up on his team. His indecisiveness was going to get him killed. It came down like realization itself, damaging more of his mind than his upper-chest, where it slammed against. His breath left, ribs beginning to creak like they were unwilling to full crack.

Air returned. The thrashing was stopped before all of Emere's ribs were destroyed, and before the pain convinced Emere to give up.

"Fuck the teams," Jenae muttered. It wasn't angry, nor was she joking, but she sounded empty. Emere sat up, coughing, chest aching with bruises that faltered to appear. Jenae watched as the wound she made in Emere's attacker leaked, her newfound convulsions bringing her closer and closer to death.

"You killed..." Emere whispered. "We promised we weren't going to do that." The promise was empty; he knew it as soon as it was made.

"She's not the first one, either. First girl, I guess," she said, shrugging as Emere tried standing. The fighting had stopped; it seemed like four was the number to die. He was dissatisfied. He didn't understand why, but he was bothered by those still alive.

He laid back down, closing his eyes, unable to drift. 

JOSEPHINE BRACK

Josephine woke up in a strange room with strange people, but 'waking up' isn't exactly the right term, because she couldn't even remember falling asleep. She looked around the room, wide eyed, at the other three who were just sitting there. None of them tried to attack her, none of them even had weapons! She searched the ground around her, looking for her weapon that she could've sworn she had before she 'fell asleep.' But, everything was gone. The food she collected, the sword, and her bag. And the letter.

She choked back a sob, not wanting the three complete strangers to see her cry.

She fell back against the wall, and slid to the floor. She wondered why no one was attacking her, or each other for that matter, but felt that if she asked, she'd break the uneasy peace that was going on.

She closed her eyes and tilted her chin up to the ceiling, stretching her neck, but also testing the others. She looked as if to be in a vulnerable position, neck open to slit, but her ears were tuned to hear the slightest rustle.

Nothing. She opened her eyes and stared at everyone. No one had moved an inch. Finally, Josephine had enough of this. She opened her mouth to speak, but was cut off as a voice rang out in the room, "Tributes, look around you. You're split up. Much like our country was in the Great Civil War," Josephine's mind began spinning, her thoughts reeling through barely slow enough to comprehend. Emily was a huge history nerd, and Josephine was kind of one herself. She knew this stuff. She knew what went down in the Great Civil War. "One team will die. Be sure it's not you."

The transmission crackled out, leaving behind a second of blaring static, and the deathly silence that followed. Instead of being dissuaded by this silence and static, Josephine thought. The country ended their civil war by the eleven districts weeding out the weak links in their own side to make it stronger, then dealt with the other side, which had a few significant weak links.

She needed to write this down somewhere. If their team had any hope to survive, they had to know what she was thinking.

"Paper? Pencil?" Josephine barely managed to mutter out two words; her mind was so focused on the task at hand. Someone threw her a chipped piece of white rock and she began to write on the floors and walls. The words poured out of her, non-stop.

After the weak links were identified in the Capital's side, the eleven districts hit those targets with everything they had. When those links broke, the chain of power what in pieces, none of which were strong enough to hold on their own. One civil war broke into one side against a million others, all who were fighting against themselves. In the end, the Capital tore itself apart trying to regain the power they once had.

When she was satisfied with the fact that she got everything out of her brain and onto the floor, she turned to stare at the others.

"You heard the King, we can't hurt each other, and we'll be torn to pieces if we don't go in with a plan. And I have a plan."

The girl with brown and green eyes spoke, "One second. Why do you assume you're the smartest in the room? You do realize that there are three other people who could have ideas just as great as yours. Why don't you give us a chance to speak?"

She crosses her arms and stares Josephine down.

Josephine looks at her in mock confusion, "Well, why don't you tell us your great plan, then?"

The girl opens her mouth, but quickly scoffs and closes it.

"That's what I thought," Josephine muttered under her breath. She knew she couldn't keep herself from being snarky, so she might as well limit the number of people who heard it.

"Okay. Here's what I'm thinking. Oh, I'm Josephine by the way, just thought you'd like to know. Anyways," Josephine squatted down to the ground, and scribbled out plans, angling her body so the others could see.

The other girl in the room stared skeptically at the notes, but didn't complain, and the boy didn't seem to be paying too much attention to what was going on. Instead, he was busy looking for someone, or at least thinking about them.

When the group was satisfied with the notes they had, Josephine ran her hand over them, obscuring the drawings in case anyone got in behind them and learned their plan, for that would surely mean their ruin.

The girl who had been skeptical smiled for the first time since they'd met, "I'm Meg."

The other girl, the one who'd questioned her, nodded, "I'm Avalon, but please call me Ava."

The boy opened his mouth to say his name, but a loud sound of metal grating on metal screeched through the open area.

The walls slid down, and the other three groups stood, dumbfounded. Apparently her group wasn't the only one caught off guard by the situation.

Avalon rolled her eyes, and shoved Josephine forward, "Well, are we going to use your plan or not?" Josephine nodded, scanned the crowd, and whispered a couple names into her ear. Ava nodded, and told the others.

The boy visibly paled as he heard one of the descriptions, "I'm sorry I can't do that. Not her. Choose someone else. Now!" He tried to hold Avalon back, but she was already stalking her way across the small clearing, upholding her part of the plan.

She snapped the poor girl's neck before the boy could stop her, and he broke down in a river of tears.

"Not now! Come on! We need you for the plan to work!" Josephine grabbed him and pulled him up off the ground. He was jeopardizing their plan, and if he didn't do his part fast, the whole thing would crumble. He crumpled back to the ground the second Josephine let go, and she decided it wasn't worth it. She needed to finish this on her own.

She ran behind one of the teams, and threw the rock she had used to write over at the team, the one who the boy was still crying over the girl's dead body, across from them, the rock luckily hitting someone's eye. The other members from that team ran towards the other, and began beating eachother up. Three of the girls from the second team fell under their fire of fists, the only one surviving was a tiny girl with messy black hair, covered in bleeding cuts.

Josephine stared as she tried to escape to a corner, and smirked as Meg tried to cut her off. If this girl dies, it will all be over. She'd be safe for another day. But, Meg underestimated the girl, and she dodged the strike and tackled Meg to the ground.

"I'm sorry, but I can't die today!" Josephine heard the girl shout, before knocking Meg out and running way. Josephine's plan was deteriorating, and she needed to do something fast.

She already took over one person's job, but now things were about to get dirty. She sighed, and rolled up her sleeves.

"Never send someone to do what you should be doing yourself."

REGINA BAILEY

I stare at the wall, waiting for it to fall so I can be the first out there, fighting for my right to live. I want, need, to live to see Jason again. My hand reaches up to the hem of my pants, where I tucked away the crinkled letter, the words still fresh in my memory, crisp and sweet. I didn't care if my team made it or not, as long as I walked out of this room with my head held high, another day having been survived.

Dear Regina,

I know this will be hard for you to read, if not only for the reason that it was hard for me to write. So, I'm going to start it off easy. Or, as easy as it can be in these circumstances.

I love you, always have, and always will.

The other three girls in the room were just as ready as I was, but I know that none of them have the passion I do. None of them have someone waiting for them when they get home like I do. I turn around, and look Jalace in the eye.

Maybe she does, or maybe he's in the castle as well. Something tells me that I'm not the only one in love, but then again, I might be the only one in as deep a love. I don't know if anyone can even feel as deeply as I do in this moment.

"You want to get out of here just as much as I do, and I have the feeling it's for practically the same reason. Let's work together." Now, I'm addressing everyone, not just Jalace, "Not like the announcement said, but really work together. We move as one, and we aim for one team, killing everyone quickly and as fast as possible, so to limit the number of us who might die."

The others nod, and I barely have time to turn back around before the wall falls flat like a piece of paper. The other groups both stand in tiny little circles, none of them realizing that the walls fell.

"Which do we go for?" Mala asked, eyeing the other groups as they get ready to fight, exchanging information. Jenae is quick to answer, pointing at the group with two boys.

"That one."

Jalace looks at her in horror, "No! We can't do that one! Cyon will have to die!" She heads toward the other group, completely ignoring the rest of us.

Her reaction makes me certain that she is in love with someone in the castle, Cyon.

"Well, I can't let Emere die," Jenae heads off toward the other group, trying to reach them before Jalace can reach Emere.

Mala and I watch as Jalace and Jenae strike to kill, both gracefully avoiding any blows that come to them, both of them working with and against each other simultaneously.

Blood paints the floor, forcing some to create their own death by slipping on their foe-turned-friend's blood, and snapping their neck.

Jalace screams, as a boy with sandy blonde hair falls limp on the ground, and she abandons her fight to run and go check up on him.

"Cyon! No!" She cries, out, planting a kiss on his dead cheek, before turning her fury loose upon the rest of the group. One of the girls who was sneaking around falls down, a blue gemstone rolling out of her hand. The next to fall is a girl who's name I remember to be Ivory.

"How could you!" Jalace is about to slap Jenae, but her hand catches in midair as she remembers the rule not to hurt your own group. But, the blazing anger and loathing in Jalace's eyes is worse than any slap. "You're going to regret that, Jenae. I promise that."

Jenae's blood runs out of her face as she realizes where Jalace is going with this. Jalace runs over toward the group she came from, and punches the boy in the face, breaking his nose.

"What do you think about that, huh?" She pushes him down to the ground, and presses a foot against his throat, listening to him struggle against the pure, raw anger being shown by Jalace. Jalace stomps down, ending his life, and Jenae lets out a small yelp, before rushing over and pushing Jalace to the ground.

"I swear if I make it out of here I will kill you." Tears run down Jenae's cheeks as she threatens Jalace, even though neither of them know if they'll make it out.

I look at Mala, horrified at the events that just unfurled. Now, neither of them were helping us, and there were still four other bloodthirsty tributes hoping to survive, and I didn't want to be the one to sit around while I'm about to die.

I sigh, pull the letter to my lips, whisper a quiet prayer, and run into the battle, hands poised to kill. 

AVALON GREY

Blue.

It was such a beautiful color. Represented peace, serenity, and tranquility, if Avalon's memory did not fail her. Henrietta had always joked about Avalon's favorite color being blue. According to her best friend, since Avalon's last name was Grey, her favorite color must obviously be grey. It was a bad joke, one that Avalon never laughed at, but the memory sent a nostalgic smile creeping onto her tired, worn face as she inspected the tiny blue gemstone in the palm of her hand.

Blue.

Henrietta's eyes were blue. A deep, rich, dark shade of blue. Not navy, like the color of the gemstone that Avalon was holding, but a shade of blue that represented the bright afternoon sky. Whenever Avalon looked into those vivid, alluring eyes, she thought that Henrietta's irises was an oasis of calm in the centre of her quintessential, strenuous lifestyle.

Blue.

Evora's eyes were blue as well. Not the same pure blue like Henrietta's eyes were, but a unique blend of aquamarine, with a touch of hazel. In spite of the girl's impudent attitude and her customary sarcastic greetings, Avalon had found a sense of calm and security whenever the small girl was beside her. But now, as she stood slowly to her feet and panned the three tributes standing around her, her mother's training of being relaxed and composed in an unexpectedly situation flew out of her mind. Her throat went dry as she slipped the gemstone back into her pocket, eyes darting around as she searched for Evora, with rule number one echoing in her mind on repeat: Don't doubt thyself, don't doubt thyself, don't doubt thyself...

Blue.

Before Avalon could say a word, a loud whirling sound pierced the damp, chilly air. All three pairs of eyes snapped upwards to connect with the walls as they slowly were lowered to the ground, exposing the tree tributes to a large room made entirely out of grey stones. Avalon's hazel eyes widened to the size of dinner plates as she caught sight of Evora on the other side, who was standing with three other tributes, expressions confused and rather terrified. Avalon suspected that she looked the same.

A voice, automated and mechanical, rang across the tiny square room that Avalon had awoken in. "Tributes, look around you. You're split up. Much like our country was in the great Civil war. The question is, how do you fix this? The three tributes you are with are your team. One team will die. Be sure it's not you."

One team will die.

Don't doubt thyself.

Blue.

The gong sounded. The same gong that announced the beginning of the Games at the Bloodbath. As if awakened from a deep slumber, the three groups of tributes all jerk forwards. Their footsteps were slow and dazed at first, but as Meg – a girl in Avalon's team with long raven hair – darted forward to the table piled high with weapons and grabbed a dagger, it was like the minds of the tributes around her suddenly connected the dots and everyone surged forwards towards the table, pushing Avalon along with them.

She wanted desperately to run from this Second Bloodbath like she and Evora had done before, but the mere thought of leaving her ally behind twisted her stomach into little knots and made her heart clench painfully. She knew her mother would be cursing and calling her an idiot back at her home, but Avalon couldn't make herself leave. She could not abandon Evora. So, with Emere screaming orders in her ears, and with Josephine plunging a sword through Regina Bailey's abdomen, Avalon Grey inhaled deeply and sprinted into the fray.

Her heart was pounding, her mind was screaming at her to run away, to turn back – away from her impending death, nottowards it. It took all of Avalon's willpower to keep going, leaping over the bodies of fallen contestants, with bile bubbling up in her throat and desperation welling up in her heart. She passed the corpse of Ivory Fairwell, who's neck was bent at an unnatural angle, and diverted her eyes from the bloody sight of Meg slitting Willis Dale's neck with her dagger.

The names of the dead came easily to Avalon, as a result of her vigorous observation of her competitors during her brief stay at the palace, and now she wished more than ever that she had not entered in the deadly games of Mare. Subconsciously, Avalon's hand reached into her pocket and fingered the smoothness of the blue stone, remembering the days long gone in the chaos, and the contentedness and joy she had experienced during her time with Henrietta. With Evora.

A scream snapped her out of her daydream, and Avalon's heart leapt into her throat as a horrifying image of Evora lying dead in a pool of her own crimson blood. It made her legs run quicker, faster, and this time a cry of hopelessness and terror tore itself from her lips, "Evora!"

One team will die.

Don't doubt thyself.

Blue.

Avalon received no reply, no returning familiar voice graced her ears. She had made a full lap around the table without spotting the girl in the fray, and her muscles were burning with agonizing fire and sweat dripped down her forehead. She swallowed and prepared to yell out for Evora once more when she recognized a snarky, sarcastic voice screech, "Here, Avalon, here! Over here, idiot, look this way!"

She didn't know where "this way" was, but instead compromised and whirled around a full three hundred and sixty degrees, scanning the entity of the room. Finally, finally, her weary hazel irises connected with the dear blue-green ones of Evora that she had missed so much, and Avalon's lips curled upwards into the biggest, maddest grin ever. Evora was huddled against a corner of the room, but as she saw Avalon, the girl smiled as well and stepped out for a second out of her hiding place, beckoning frantically for Avalon to come.

What they didn't know was that Death was vicious, and greedy. When he saw an opportunity, he took it.

It came out of nowhere. The arrow. One second Evora was waving at Avalon to come towards her, and the next she had collapsed in a heap on the floor, clutching at her heart where the tip of an arrow sprouted.

Her heart froze. Her mind froze. Every part of Avalon's body froze like a statue except her eyes – and with those eyes she watched with a numb kind of horror as Evora stopped shuddering on the floor and stilled. The girl's small, calloused hand fell limply to her side, coated in sticky, vermillion blood.

She remembered howling, that was all. Avalon remembered screaming out her grief and horror and disbelief, but she could not recall when or how she snapped out of her trance, how she forced her trembling legs to carry her body to Evora's side, how the floodgates of her heart had broken and she found herself weeping beside Evora's still body. Avalon had cradled the girl's head in her arms, one hand running through the mass of Evora's dirty-blonde hair as tears slid down her cheeks. Blood trickled out of Evora's fatal wound, dripping onto Avalon's clothes, but she didn't care. She found herself whispering, pleading into Evora's deaf ears, "Come back..." her voice was brokenhearted and torn, filled with a type of sorrow that only she could understand. "You can't die, you can't, I won't let you..."

But even as the meaningless words tumbled out in the jumbled, tormented mess, Avalon knew that it was too late. Shewas too late. She was too late to save her friend, she wasn't there when Evora needed her most – and they were both paying the price. Evora with her life, and Avalon with her tears. She sniffed, vision blurring from the seemingly endless supply of tears, and caressed Evora's cheeks gently, like a mother does to her child. Her fingers trailed up to the dead girl's eyes, and as Avalon stared, she realized that they were no longer the beautiful shade of blue that she had grown to love so much. No, Evora's eyes were now glassy and fogged, the remnants of color no more than a murky shade of grey.

Grey. The name of the girl that killed her.

Grey. The name of the girl that failed her.

Grey. The color of destruction, of emptiness - of despair and death.

Grey.

What was left of me after you perished.

Only a name.

Nothing more. 

WILLIS DALE

Willis wakes up to the feeling of his arms around someone. With a sleepy smile, he snuggles closer to them and hugs Adrien tighter, for it of course had to be his blond companion.

"Umm... Would you mind letting go of me maybe?" A voice comes from Adrien, a female voice. Willis stiffens before scrambling away from the person who is not Adrien, his eyes growing wide and his face tinting from a flustered blush.

"Who the hell are you?!?!" He squeaks, staring down at the dirty blonde haired girl he'd just been cuddling. His face grows a darker shade of red as she stares back at him with a look that is slightly disdainful and somewhat confused as well.

"Where am I?? What'd you do with Adrien?!?" He exclaims before she could reply, and his voice cracks on the last syllable.

His eyes dart around the small room he finds himself in and he finds three other people he barely recognizes stuck in the room with him; a tall blonde haired man with blue eyes, a shorter girl with long raven hair, and the girl he'd been asleep next to. All of them were staring at him as if of everything that's happening, he's the weird thing.

"That's sort of what we've been trying to figure out... The where we are part at least." The man mumbles, crossing his arms. "I don't know how we got here, I just sort of.. woke up here. You three were already here by then." He explains. The dark haired girl huffs, turning away from him to inspect the walls of the room.

The girl Willis had been asleep beside decides to stand up then, dusting off her trousers as she did so. "I don't remember who you are, but I'm Evora. Evora Gimp." She speaks to Willis, and holds her hand out to shake with a somewhat surly attitude.

Willis just stares at her hand. "I'm uh... Willis." He replies quietly, letting his gaze fall away from her to the floor and rubbing his forearm awkwardly. He's still extremely disoriented, and he couldn't help be a little wary of these unknowns.

Evora gives him a stiff smile, probably assuming he was being shy. Even so she doesn't try to continue a conversation, and she seems fairly distracted as it is, completely detached from the awkward thing that could barely even be called a chat. She appears to be short of breath as she looks around the small dim room again, and Willis finds himself looking around again as well, though he already knew the boy he's looking for isn't there.

The atmosphere between the four people in the room soon goes thick with tension and it starts to feel like a fifth presence until the other man finally speaks up. "I'm Cyon." He introduces himself, glancing between the others.

"I... Well I can't figure out why or how we got here but if you haven't noticed already there aren't any weapons. We can't -aren't supposed to- hurt each other." Cyon explains what he'd figured out, pointing out the obvious Willis hadn't seemed to have noticed yet.

"Yes, we've noticed that already genius." The final unnamed member of their miscellaneous group speaks up, and all eyes dart to her. The raven haired girl is prowling the edges of the room, kicking at the walls periodically as if she's looking for a hole or a hidden door. She pauses as she feels everyone's eyes on her and glances to them.

"What? We can't be stuck in here, there obviously needs to be a way out. Now if you all would stop the formalities, come help me find a way out of this mess." She snaps snarkily.

They all continue to stare at her though, and it is a moment before she lets out a huffy sigh, realizing what they were waiting for.

"My name's Ivory Fairwell, happy now?" She retorts, giving them all a glare. "Now get looking for a- !!" Her sentence is cut off with a startled sound from her as the the entire room starts to tremble, a loud rumbling sound emanating from all around them.

The tributes are wide eyed as the walls of the small room they'd been slowly start to sink into the ground, the ground shaking enough to cause pebbles to bounce around their feet. Before the tremors of the walls' movement even started to die down they were already looking around their new enclosure, and Willis at least, is shocked at what he sees.

They seem to be in a circle shaped room, two other teams of four tributes situated in the the outlines of their own rooms, similar to the one Willis and his group had been in. The three groups are in somewhat of a triangle shape, and at the center of them and the room is a pedestal stacked with weapons.

The tributes all have similar looks of astonishment and confusion on their faces as they look around the room and Willis feels his heart crawling into his throat as his gaze stumbles over the faces of the other disoriented tributes, all in search for one person. He still doesn't find him.

Every single tribute of each group seems frozen, most all of them with gazes locked on the weapons or each other. They all are starting to piece together the sickly similarities of this situation and the bloodbath when there is the crackling sound from somewhere above them of speaker system going on.

"Tributes..." A mechanical voice speaks seemingly from nowhere, catching everyone's attention. "Look around you. You're split up. Much like our country was in the great Civil War. The question is, how do you fix this..?" There is a pause, and Willis looks to the people closest to him; Cyon, Evora, and Ivory. Each of them look at each other, locking eyes individually.

"The three tributes you are with are your team. One team will die. Be sure it's not you."

As soon as the voice finishes speaking there is a click as the audio cuts out, leaving behind a dead silence that would cause anyone to wince at the sound of a pin dropping. Every single person in the room seems to be stiff at the new information, and it at first seems like none of them are going to move until of course, someone does.

Willis is unsure who exactly it is when they do, but as soon as they do everyone else is following, like a general leading their armies to war. Having been tugged by Evora, Willis finds himself stumbling towards the center of the room with the rest of his group and he doesn't even have time to consider escaping.

The area around the pedestal has already started to break out in fights, and Willis has to duck as a fist is swung at him. His heartbeat has already accelerated from a burst of adrenaline and he ducks under the person's swing completely, stumbling forward into the pedestal and practically impaling himself on a propped up sword.

Willis' eyes are wide and he grabs the hilt of the weapon instantly, whirling around to face his attacker with it raised in his defense. He is able to get a good look at her face and he recognises her from the week in the castle, Josephine Brack.

Frowning, Josephine brandishes the dagger in her hand, and even though Willis' weapon is longer she didn't seem to be backing down. He didn't seem very intimidating in return, and he grips the hilt with both hands tightly. Before either of them could even raise the weapon to attack though there is a cry of alarm as someone else finishes the unstarted fight.

Josephine's cry becomes gurgled before it even fully leaves her lips and the blood that flows from her neck splatters over Willis as the killer roughly tugs the knife out of the girl's neck. Willis is trembling as dead girl's body crumples to the ground and he lets out a whimper. Staring at him with a steely look is Ivory, and she flicks the knife in his direction in what is almost a half bow before she darts off deeper into the fray.

Groaning, Willis doesn't try to track her through the melee and instead his gaze darts away from the dead tribute in front of him and instead to above the other tributes' heads, searching for any signs of a door. Instead of a door he spots Cyon with Meg Caraway struggling in a choke hold, and he looks away just as the man snaps the girl's neck.

"Avalon!" A voice shrieks abruptly from somewhere behind him and Willis whirls around, his wide eyes darting around for the source of the familiar voice. He finds it not far from him as Evora wails loudly, helpless to save her friend who is already laying on the stone floor in a growing pool of her own blood.

Above her stood Jenae Saya, who grimaces as she pulls her sword out of Avalon's back. With a roar of rage Evora launches herself at the other girl, raising the lone arrow in her hand as her only weapon. Willis lets out a shout to stop her, but she either doesn't hear him or she ignores him.

Stumbling forward Willis pushes and shoves his way through the scuffle to try to get to them, but he is constantly held up as he has to duck or dodge attacks from other people. Unnoticed by Willis, Emere seems to be doing the same thing as he shouts for Jenae to look out for Evora's attack.

Hearing him, Jenae manages to get out of the way just in time to avoid Evora's arrow, and she instantly pivots around to raise her sword in defense. Snarling, Evora snatches up her deceased ally's sword and swings it down on Jenae harshly, a loud ringing clang sounding as their weapons collide.

While Jenae is preoccupied with keeping her sword above her head to block Evora's blade, Evora is able to use her other hand to ram the arrow into the other girl's gut. Both Jenae's scream and Emere's can be heard at that exact moment and in the split second of Jenae stumbling backwards in pain and shock, Emere and Willis reach the fight.

With a cry, Emere raises the dagger in his right hand to stab Evora and in a instant reaction Willis thrusts his sword forward to stop him, catching the other male in the abdomen. Emere's eyes widen and his gaze darts from his target to Willis, and as he pulls the sword out of him Willis sees his pained look as he clutches the gaping wound in his stomach.

Having already fallen from her bleeding wound, Jenae is already on the ground when Emere falls with a thud. The boy starts to drag himself towards his friend and the pitiful sight is enough to make Willis grab Evora by her hair and tug her back from them before she could finish either of the dying teens off.

"Let me go, let go!!" She shrieks and struggles to get away from him as Willis starts dragging her by the hair away from the fighting.

"No!! We're getting out of here before one of us dies!" He exclaims, his voice cracking again. He had seen the way Evora had reacted to watching her friend die, and for some reason it struck a chord in him. He knew something had happened to Adrien. He didn't want anything else to happen to any of his other allies, at least not until he is sure he's gone for good. 

CYON TARGARYON

Death wasn't quick or easy, lasting only for a few moments as some describe it in books and ancient writings. Many people appraised it, made it seem honorable and beautiful.

It wasn't.

It was slow, like molasses pouring from a cup at breakfast. Nothing was more haunting, and more sickening than death.

As Cyon stood, watching the slaughter and mayhem around him, he clenched his jaw. It was no longer just about his little girl and getting back to her alive. No. It was much, much more.

The three people beside him; Willis, Ivory, and Evora eighteen, seventeen and fourteen—all still children in a way. He had woken up in a bare room beside the three of them. Slowly, the wall had opened to reveal two other groups with four people, all standing clustered together. An announcement was made; they were to work together with their group to kill the other groups. One entire team was going to die.

Cyon refused to allow it to be his.

Just as Willis and Ivory rushed toward the other two groups, who had darted toward the middle and had already begun fighting, he grabbed both of their arms. "Wait," he said.

"What do you want?" Evora asked.

Willis only looked at him, waiting for an answer, as Ivory stayed silent.

"We can't just rush in there. If we're going to survive this, we have to work together," Cyon explained.

Ivory and Evora both nodded. "Okay, so we work together," Evora said.

Willis shrugged, but stayed with them, as they all stood back-to-back, shoulders pressed against shoulders. None of the teenagers in the room had any weapons on them, but that didn't stop the other two groups from charging at each other. Already so much blood stained the floor that Cyon wasn't even sure what color it had originally been.

To the right, Cyon didn't miss Emere Lane charging at them on the left side. "Left!" Cyon called to Willis.

Willis nodded and clenched his fists, just as Emere jumped on him. Ivory was ready as well, and she jumped on Emere's back, choking him, as Willis pounded away at his face. Emere blocked most of Willis' attacks at first, but the lack of air was weakening him. Just as he fell to his knees, gagging, Cyon's eyes shifted around the room.

"To your right, Evora!" Cyon's warning hadn't done any good. Instead, in a split instant decision, he shoved Evora aside in just enough time to avoid being tackled by Regina. Regina had grabbed Cyon around the waist in an attempt to pull him to the ground, but her original target had been Evora, not Cyon. He was much bigger and much heavier. When Cyon hesitated to punch her, Evora immediately jumped to it, dancing around her, dodging and exhchaning blows with her.

Cyon glanced back at Willis and Ivory to see how they were doing. Emere's face was reddened, and had swollen to nearly twice its original size. It was blue, slowly fading to white as foam dripped from his lips. His body had just stopped jerking.

Josephine and Avalon darted their direction.

"I'll help fend off their attacks as you two go after them both," Cyon told Willis and Ivory. Despite the begrudging looks on their faces, they both nodded and reluctantly agreed.

Josephine punched Ivory, just as Avalon kicked at Willis. He grabbed her ankle and twisted, making her cry out. As she fell to the ground, with Willis just behind her, Ivory ducked from another attack from Josephine. Meg was stepping up just behind Ivory, with her hands extended, preparing to grab Ivory's throat.

"No!" Cyon shouted. He dashed over there, shoving Meg to the ground in a fury.

Ivory turned for a brief second.

"Don't get distracted!" Cyon warned. He had no time to see if she was alright.

Meg had stood and was charging toward Cyon like a crazed bull.

"I have to get home!" she shouted.

He dodged her punches and kicks, trying his best not to directly fight her.

"Fight me, you coward! So what you have a little girl waiting at home? So what? We all have someone! What makes you so special, huh? Fight me!"

Something about her words snapped whatever it was inside him that had kept him from wanting to fight. What was he thinking? How did he plan to make it home to Aayla, if he wasn't even going to fight?

Did wanting to help and save people make him a coward? Or did it make him brave?

He ducked underneath Meg's fist, and kicked her knee, snapping it. She cried out, and collapsed onto the floor. Grabbing her hair, he slammed her head against the stone with a yell. It wasn't intelligible, nothing but all his pain and frustration and fear formed into raw sound.

"Look out, Cyon!" someone shouted.

As he turned to look, Evora had tackled him to the ground and landed on top of him. It had protected him from Josephine biting him.

Ivory grunted, and kicked Josephine in the face. As she reeled, Ivory darted toward her, relentlessly and mercilessly pounding on her again and again.

Cyon's eyes stared at Meg's unblinking eyes, then shifted to Josephine's. Directly behind her was Emere's now pale face.

Panting and gasping for air, Willis walked over to them as Ivory shifted to try to form them back into their circle.

"Cyon you have to get up!" Evora yelled at him.

Cyon's gaze was several feet over, where Regina's body rested on the floor.

So much...

Before he could finish that thought, Evora, Willis and Ivory all worked together to yank him to his shaky feet.

"Hey!" Evora shouted at him. "Look, I know we're all scared and freaked out right now. We're all doing things we never imagined ourselves doing, okay? But you said yourself that the only way for us to survive is if we work together. You want to get back to your daughter right? Right?"

When Cyon nodded, Evora smiled.

"Alright, then stand up, and fight. With us—for her."

Cyon turned so that he was back to back with his three companions. They had started off as strangers and now they were companions in a fight for survival.

A fight to the death.

Death and blood. Those two words had done nothing but haunt him ever since this journey had started. Despite that he had hope bubbling inside his chest—hope for him and the three others with him, those two words were still there, in the back of his mind, reminding him of all the horrors he had seen ever since he had stepped foot into this castle.

It was a castle of darkness. Of pain.

A castle of death.

MEG CARAWAY

My eyes fluttered open, staring at my surroundings before fully the situation I was in. With a gasp I sat up, staring at the other three tributes, for the life of me I couldn't remember their names, who were looking as equally as confused as I was. We had been stuck in a metal box.

The last thing I could remember was sitting in the hall with Cyon after he had fixed up my wounds. He was kind and we had decided to work together for at least a little while. We were similar in the sense that we had both put ourselves in the situation to save the life of a loved one. I have to admit I was a bit fearful that someone had killed him while I was out, and I shivered at the thought of his poor girl being left alone.

I stood up, gingerly testing my ankle and leg. A slow hiss escaped my lips as pain tingled up my leg like a thousand, tiny pinpricks.

"What happened to you?" A girl with green eyes and dark hair asked, placing her hands on her hips as she sized up Meg.

"I could ask the same thing," I responded, noticing the welts that littered her face and arms. Maybe I was a bit harsh but I had no idea who these people were, and that meant I couldn't let them know who I was.

"I don't see how that is any of your business."

"No, really?" My voice dripped with sarcasm, and the girl glared back at me.

After realizing my response sounded a bit harsh, I looked around for bow, just in case she decided to attack. I couldn't see any weapons, which was a bit of a relief until I remembered there were other ways to kill people.

"Hey, Meg and Avalon, I feel like we should work our way out of the situation together. It doesn't help to argue."

"That's fine with me," I told Avalon, not before flashing a small smile at the girl who had spoken. I still couldn't remember her name, which was probably a side effect from not socializing with anyone during my time at the palace.

Before Avalon had a chance to speak her mind, the creaking of metal scratching metal began—and the walls starting retreating into the floor.

As soon as I could see over the wall, I bit my lip in worry. Two more groups of tributes appeared from behind the walls, all looking as anxious as I felt. As I was studying their expressions, I locked eyes with Cyon, who simply shrugged like "I don't know either."

"Tributes, look around you." I jumped at the sound of the automated voice, echoing through some unseen speakers.

"Much like our country was in the great Civil War. The question is, how do you fix this? The three tributes you are with are your team." Oh great. That is just lovely. "One team will die. Be sure it's not you."

I gulped at the last bit, more than a little frightened. I had no desire to kill people in the first place—with a weapon. How was I supposed to handle killing someone with my bear hands?

For a brief minute, we all stood around, staring at each other with quirked eyebrows and confused faces.

Then another unfamiliar face leapt atop a poor girl, knocking her to the ground. Her hands squeezed at the girls throat, who struggled to get her off. Unfortunately, I was too otherwise occupied to do anything about it.

A dark skinned girl with hundreds of braids launched herself at me, knocking me to the ground. Like any respectable woman would do, she immediately went for my hair. I let out a cry of pain she held me down, her sharp nails digging into my arm. Her fist connected with my stomach again and again, sending pangs throughout my body.

It was her turn to let out a cry of pain as she went flying off of me and into a different brawl with different people. She would make it out alive, with the amount of energy she had, that was for sure.

My savior was Cyon, again. Except I'm not sure he knew what he had done. His attention was otherwise occupied against a boy, Willis I believe his name was. A fury of fists and blood could be seen, mostly from the other boy. I closed my eyes as Cyon delivered another blow to his head, knocking him unmoving to the ground.

Chaos reigned as everyone fought for their lives in yet another bloodbath.

I scrabbled up from my position on the ground, backing away until I knocked into someone. I flinched as I prepared to be thrown into another fight but breathed a sigh of relief when I realized it was the only male in my group.

"Do you want to figure this out together, I have no idea where anyone else went."

He nodded, a bit reluctantly at first. "Sure, but do you see that girl?" He pointed to a willowy, raven haired girl. "That's Janae. We leave her alone."

"Okay, then Cyon is off limits as well."

A girl with tears in her eyes and messy hair approached us, wielding what appeared to be a chair leg that she had stolen from who knows where. She swung at me, hitting my thigh.

Grabbing the leg, I wrestled the wood out of her hand, at which point it clattered to the ground.

Emere moved quickly, diving at the weapon the same time as the girl. Luckily he reached there first, and shoved the sharp end of the stick into her chest. She wailed as she fell, the sound breaking my heart.

"I'm so sorry," I whispered.

In that moment, an epiphany hit me.

I couldn't fight any longer. There was too much bloodshed. Too many lives, so full of unspent potential, were being lost.

I looked around; watching as Avalon and the other girl in my group collectively took down another girl. They fought with the instinct of animals, knowing that what they were doing was their only hope for survival.

Another body fell in front of me, bloodied and sporting an indistinguishable face. That made four who weren't

Tears began to fall at the sight; I couldn't understand why we had to do this. I couldn't understand why the kingdom couldn't think of some other way to find an heir.

But then the beautiful blonde locks of Celeste replaced the horrible image. She was smiling and laughing, something I had not seen in ages. I remembered what I had told her in my last letter, the words she would remember me by.

And so, as I watched and participated in the death and bloodshed, I remembered the advice that I had given to her, only now realizing it was meant for me. Because the hardest part of life, is living.

JALACE HOLLOWAY

Dear Silver,

I work better alone.

You know that, I know that. We all know that.

So why. First it was spiders, now... Now I had to work with three other people, people I would rather kill?

As soon as I woke, I knew something was wrong. There was no pressure on my wrists, and as I looked down, I realized my hidden blades were gone. Who had taken them? I stood, to see three other people standing around looking just as dazed as I felt: Regina, Mala, and Jenae.

Immediately, I scowled. Not only had they made me work with other people, but they paired me up with three girls. Girls. I hate girls. I hate people, Silver.

What would you do?

Kill them all.

Just as I started toward them, a mechanical voice came from seemingly nowhere, explaining the rules. We were supposed to work with them, not kill them, against two other teams of four. One team would die.

Screw you, I thought to the voice. As soon as the voice remained silent, the girls on my team charged with members of the other team. Four on three. As they clashed away at it, I slinked back into the shadows—where I belonged.

Someone straggled behind—Avalon. As her back was turned to me, focusing on the other girls on my team, I easily slipped behind her and placed my arms around her in a choke hold. She struggled and thrashed, but I kept my hold firm, as unbreakable as iron. Her body twitched and spasmed, and her face heated up the longer I kept air from reaching her lungs. When I felt her body fall limp, I dropped onto the floor, and continued moving around the room.

My eyes froze, catching something interesting. Cyon, the man I had worked with before, and his team were working together. They fought side-by-side, watching each other's backs, fending off attackers together. A few defended while others attacked. They moved together, almost as if they were all in some sort of invisible dance.

What were they doing, Silver?

If that had been me, I would have expected them to attack me. To grab my throat and choke me, or at least, let one of the other tributes do it. What is that called? Trust?

I can understand trusting someone to go get you food or supplies (I mean even that's a far stretch for me), but trusting them to guard your back during a fight?

Clenching my fists, my breathing intensified. They had already killed more than I had.

I could not let them kill more than me.

No one killed more than me. Except for you, Silver.

With a wild cry, I waited until Cyon was distracted, and then went after Ivory. She had fallen behind, making her the perfect target. She grunted as I tackled her to the ground. As she placed up her hands to try to protect her pretty little face, I grabbed her wrist and twisted them. I didn't stop until I felt and heard the snap, and even then, I didn't stop until she cried out in pain.

As she tried to recover, I slipped my knee around to press it into her throat. She thrashed, but it did no good. With a loud grunt, I used all the strength I could muster to twist my knee, snapping her neck.

Surprised by my own strength, I thought of a time when I had tried to snap someone's neck on a mission with you, Silver. Remember? I couldn't do it. I hadn't been strong enough.

Well, I am now, Silver. I am now.

"Get off of her!" a voice yelled. I was yanked to my feet by my hair. Someone's fingers dug into my scalp painfully. Just before they could slam my head against the wall, I jabbed my elbow behind me as hard as I could. It landed into flesh, and all the air whooshed out of him in a fury.

I turned, feet slipping into a stance, facing the man who had attacked me. Willis.

He coughed, but recovered long enough to bring both of his fists up in a boxing style.

With a wicked grin on my face, I charged at him. I was much smaller, and able to move around him faster than he could react. It was a game, a dance that only I knew the moves to. He landed several good punches as I danced around him, throwing a punch to his face, his sternum, his ribs, his back.

He swung his right fist toward my face, but I jumped backward, out of his reach. I ducked underneath another punch, and then swooped around behind him. Grunting, I used my knees to push myself off the ground in a giant leap.

I landed on his back, wrapping my arms around his throat in a piggy-back-ride of death. Piggy-back-ride of death? Where do you come up with this stuff? you would ask.

From you, would be my reply.

He slammed me up against the wall. Pain flared in my back, but I tightened my grip, determined not to let go. As he continued trying to throw me off, I pressed my hands against his neck tighter and tighter. He collapsed onto his knees, and slowly I felt life leaving his body.

I finally found Regina and Mala working together to fend off Emere and Meg. Josephine's body was on the ground, lifeless.

I leaned against the wall, resting and letting them do the rest of the work. I had already killed three people, and finally had satisfied the itch in my hands. The urge to kill.

Do you remember what that felt like, Silver? I do.

Because I feel it all the time. 

MALA AKINDI

NO ENTRY

JENAE SAYA

 Jenae Saya's gasps hitch in her throat, never quite reaching her lips and becoming audible. Around her is an empty, disdain darkness, but she feels something close by. She feels someone. Whoever they are, she only wishes for them to be the one reliable person she knows. He's the only one she can trust – outside and inside of the castle.

Emere.

She still can't see anywhere around her, her eyes refuse to adjust to her surroundings. She tries blinking a couple times, but that only makes her eyes dryer. Slowly, she begins to pick up on small breaths, on light exhales around her. Jenae knows that whoever is with her in this...cage with her, isn't her enemy. The Royals would have revealed the mystery person to her, declaring that they fight immediately. They wouldn't keep the person covered unless it was part of a strategy.

Calling out is the first thing that rushes through her mind. There's a list of names she could go through, each one would probably sound more desperate than the last. But what if whoever is with her isn't a real person? They could be a mutt, waiting for the sound of her voice to activate its violence and havoc. Terrified, yet convinced with the thought, she just stands still, waiting for any sign of life outside of her cage. Aside of her and the mystery citizen.

In a matter of minutes, the roof is removed above her, allowing all the sunlight to kiss her skin. She didn't realize how cold it was inside that prison. The rays of light also let her see her surroundings. This time, she's afraid she'll go into hysterics. There's a stone wall all around her, just like on that first day.

It was all a dream. Jenae juxtapositions her thoughts – she hopes and fears her truth. She wants it to be a dream, for all her taints to be nonexistent and her actions never occurring. That would be the easiest – a fresh start. But she fears the dream as well. She has made it so far in her fake reality. Who's to say she'll make it as far in the new present day? No one, that's who.

But it isn't any of that at all.

Jenae almost forgets that people breathe at a similar speed she does, thoughts racing through their minds at the same level that hers occur. She forgets that there are other people entrapped with her – three girls who show their fear through tight chests and panicked eyes.

The bolder of the huddling girls steps forward and drops her weapon to floor, indicating that she means no harm. "We can't be the last ones left, right?"

I'd hope so! Jenae thinks and regrets. Her being in the finals with pure girls means one single thing: Emere has died along the way; Emere has been lost, never to be found again. Jenae can't stand the very notion of it.

The other two follow suit, random assortments of weapons being thrown on the floor. "No," a quiet voice answers the question, "I don't think we are. And I don't think we're alone right now, either."

"Obviously," Jenae says. "There are four of us here – there have to be more or we would have heard those strange cannons." The final girl nods along, not really being part of the conversation.

"And why do you suppose we're all together, Jenae?" The girl asks.

Jenae is baffled at the thought of the girl even knowing her name, "I don't know that. We're a team maybe, we've been secluded together for some reason." Before she loses her courage she asks them all to say their names. If they happen to be a team, she doesn't want to be yelling things like "You, girl with the hair!" or anything along the line.

"Regina," one says, twirling a piece of her hair in her hands.

Another voice pipes, "Mala. I swear I'm not bad!" Jenae doesn't get the meaning of that, but she just nods

The final girl says, "Jalace Holloway." Jenae introduces herself as well; it's weird saying her name to random strangers – especially if they're all fighting for their lives.

Just like on day one, a soft grumbling is heard beneath the palms of her feet. She looks over at the wall encaging all of them together. Committedly, the eruption of rock begins at the top, the smallest pebbles just being brushed off by the small vibrations. Then come the heavier waves, the ones that cause cracks and faults along to rocky wall's body mass. Finally, the earthquake washes in, completely abolishing and destroying all traces that there was ever a stone wall.

Or rather, three stone walls. As the walls crumple, the sunlight all over her now, Jenae notices the similar eruptions to the forward left and forward right of her. Everyone is in a group of four it seems, every person being equally distributed. Except for one team. The only guy there, a massive one, tries to remove the rocks over a fallen comrade's body. But it's futile, and it's confirmed when the familiar gong rings.

At this point, Jenae looks back at her team, all of whom have their weapons back. Jenae gets a single paired set of knives back, the rest secretly stored in her pants. She's not going to be entirely defenseless when the stakes are so high.

Jenae's eyes are still looking for Emere, desperate to make eye contact with him and run away, letting everyone else fight with each other. This isn't futile – she'd be able to find him as a needle in the middle of haystack. She knows him emotionally and physically, but most of all: presently. Their eyes lock and he just nods at her, a knife in his hand being pulled back.

No one dares move, there is no bell or whistle to announce when the fight officially begins. A silly girl, whose name she knows is along elephant trunks – whatever those are – is the first to step out of her little circle of a safe haven, a random arrow piercing her once beating heart. The cannon follows afterword.

Two down, eight to go. It should be "ten to go" but she's not planning on eliminating herself, or Emere for that matter.

Once Ivory's body hits the floor, more people begin to run at each other, bodies already clashing. Jenae knows she's supposed to stick by her team, to watch their backs as they watch hers. But that's not how it works with Jenae Saya. It's not that she's too stubborn, it's that she's too loyal. And she's loyal to Emere. The moment the outer skirts of the rings are a little clear, she runs over to him, trying to not catch anyone's attention.

Of course her plan fails miserably. This is like the second bloodbath, the halfway mark to the end of the games with only twelve people left in its entirety. Someone is always focused on someone else. And sadly, Jenae has to be the "someone else." She has to be attacked.

The girl comes running at her, knives at the ready. They're raised, almost as if she were cutting the air, and not preparing to hit human flesh. Jenae's own knives have only touched skin once, aside from hers and Emere's. The leaky trails of blood still mark the blade of the knife.

The girl – Evora, she hears someone call her – runs in the air, her feet and knees high, elbows locking to her sides and occasionally rocking back and forth. No matter, Jenae thinks, my team is here. My team will help me.

It's the second time she's been wrong all day. She can't see Mala from her viewpoint and Regina is nowhere to be seen. Jalace, the obviously smartest of the new trio, can be seen dancing through the air, her hands as skilled as her feet.

Jenae has only seconds to duck before the knives slash through the air and try to strike her. The key word is "try" for a reason. Evora, a tag on her jacket reads. Evora Gimp. It hurts a little to see Jenae's knife ruggedly impale Evora's skin. But it hardly matters when her knife is pulled out from the dying body, not until Emere tries to pull her away from the corpse in front of her.

"We have to leave, but I tried already. There's like a force field or something around us. We can't leave until more people die or the new King gets the crown," Emere explains briefly.

That only leaves two options for Jenae to choose from: attack until however many that are needed are found dead. This may be at her knives or her hands, depending on how this hypothetical person had acted around her during the week in the Castle. Her second choice is to leave without a trace. If the Royal Crown only needs a few people dying, Emere and Jenae will gladly take cover in the bushes.

"Watch out!" She screams to Emere. His eyes are too busy drifting along, trying to find a chink the armor or something. She doesn't blame him when he has a confused face, eyes squinting at Jenae in curiosity.

She only has seconds to see him the way he is. The rest of her mind is already focused on the girl that is sprinting straight towards an unmoving Emere. Jenae sprints harder than she ever thought possible. She runs faster than the girl coming at Emere, the girl with the lavishing legs.

Jenae's knives are already at the ready, her hands following the same maneuver from her lone journey into the castle the night before. Her right hand and its corresponding knife are at the center of her abdomen, her left side gripping a knife pointing straight to the side.

Emere is still dazed and doesn't move. Jenae pushes him rather hardly, her main focus being the girl that keeps wanting to get to a confused and helpless boy. "Move," the girl, Meg Caraway, says as she grits her teeth.

Jenae finally feels different flesh on her own when she pushes Meg back, both sets of eyes glaring at each other with fire and venom. Jenae doesn't even know the girl – she could be sweet. But this is life and death – Jenae and Emere's lives – and Jenae isn't willing to let a girl get close enough to even scratch her best friend. Or her, for that matter.

Meg doesn't take no for an answer, her weapon gripped tightly and her eyes focusing on Emere. There's a softness in her look, a form of sincerity. Almost as if she doesn't want to harm the boy. But then she looks at his protective best friend, and the kindness is quenched in fuel, adding more fire to the fight.

"Fine," is all she says before she tries to strike Jenae.

Jenae doesn't ever see the hit coming, she's staring at the girls face and not her arms. The moment she feels the cold kiss of metal weaponry on her skin, she yelps as the even colder blade swipes at her flesh. Jenae's arm has a large gash, a wound big and deep enough to propel a heavy rainwater from her. Granted, this water isn't clear, but rather the deepest crimson.

She pushes the girl off of her one more time, determined to affect the girl with more than just a push. She grabs strands of the girl's hair, dragging her face to her knees. A crunch fills the air. She drops the girl, kicking her stomach and forcing the air out. Meg lays helplessly, no more fire in her dying eyes.

Jenae brings her knives to the heart of Meg Caraway. The cannon rings for the fourth time and an electric pulse vibrates through the arena. Four people are all the Royals wanted before the field was inactivated.

Two perished at the hands of Jenae Saya, without her team or Emere.

IVORY FAIRWELL

Tap, tap, tap.

Constant tapping.

Tap, tap, tap.

Like someone walking across a stone floor.

Tap, tap, tap.

The sound kept ringing in her ears...

Ivory jolted awake, sitting up only to find herself still entrenched in cold darkness.

Still dreaming. It's all just a dream...

More tapping. Slower, now, calmer.

Tap, tap, tap.

A sudden smacking sound startled Ivory again, and she jumped to her feet.

Just a dream. Just a dream.

"Ow!" A voice exclaimed, then spoke in a confused and startled voice. "What the hell?"

Was it really just a dream?

"Ahh!" Another voice cried. "Who are you?"

The tapping had stopped, Ivory had noticed, and now the only sound was the two voices going back and forth, one sounding more feminine, while the other seemed masculine.

"What are we doing here?" The girl asked, her voice more panicked than Ivory expected.

"Why should I know?"

"It was a rhetorical question, you idiot!"

"It sure didn't sound like it!"

"Be quiet." Another voice, this one more familiar to her. She searched her mind for the memory. Jack? The king?

Cyon. Her mind flashed, back to the time when the young man had saved her life only a day or two ago. But she remained silent, lying uncomfortably on the stone floor.

"Is it only the three of us?" The first boy's voice came out timid and scared. There was silence for a moment before Cyon spoke again.

"If anyone else is in here, you should speak up now. Unless you want to face our wrath."

"What, are we some sort of superhero team now?" The girl spat, her tone laced with sarcasm.

"I suspect we are," Cyon said. "Seeing the circumstances unfold."

Ivory hardly dared to breathe. She didn't know if she should speak up now, but she was certainly too terrified now.

No one spoke for a while. The minutes seemed to stretch into an eternity, and Ivory found herself reaching for her knife, but it was nowhere to be found.

Then came the light, at long last.

Ivory sat bolt upright, watching as one of the walls began to lower, and light sprang onto the other threes' faces. She recognized Cyon immediately, with his long hair and matured face. The girl looked familiar enough to her, but it took a second to put a name to the face. Evora. And the last, a young boy with dark hair and bright green eyes, a visible scar running from his nose down to his chin. The wound looked fresh, and it had definitely been inflicted sometime in the last two days. His name was Willis, Ivory could recall, Willis Dale.

The three all glanced around quickly, checking for any other people. Almost simultaneously, three pairs of eyes turned to her.

"Nice to see you all," Ivory managed to choke out. Cyon and Evora snorted, but Willis stayed silent.

"Why didn't you just speak up, you idiot?" Cyon asked, amusement glimmering in his green eyes.

"Meh, I'm not much of a talker."

"I'd say otherwise," Evora muttered. "Anyway, I-"

She cut herself off as the walls stopped moving, and the four got a good sight of what lie ahead.

Two other groups of four were standing apart from each other, each and every one of them looking dumbfounded. A voice rang around the entire arena, but Ivory couldn't see where it was coming from.

"Tributes, look around you. You're split up, much like our country was in the civil war. The question is, how will you fix this? The three tributes you are with are your team. One team will die. Be sure it's not you."

A click sounded, and the war began.

Tributes launched themselves at the weapons piled on top of each other. Ivory glanced at her group for a split second, and as if on cue, they all shot towards the weapons.

Screams. So many screams.

Ivory's mind whirred, memories filling her head. No images, just sounds. Screams, shouts, cries, terrified squeals. Ivory could no longer tell the the past from the present.

A hard slam sent Ivory back to the battle.

"What the hell, Cyon?" Ivory groaned as Cyon pulled and practically threw her away from the weapons.

"You have to pay attention, Ivory. Whatever you're thinking about, it's really not the time." His voice was kind, but stern and edged with panic. Ivory moaned, rubbing her temples, but accepted the knife he handed her. It was excessively long, and dull too. She'd have to work if she wanted to kill someone with it.

She only saw Jenae a millisecond before she was tackled to the ground.

"God, not you again," Ivory muttered, but she couldn't pull Jenae off of her. Luckily, Cyon looked over and automatically ran over, slamming the hilt of his sword into her temple, not hard enough to kill, but hard enough to make her unconscious.

Ivory wasn't prepared as Cyon flung Jenae off of her and stabbed her with the sword.

"Jesus Christ!" Ivory gasped. "You couldn't have just knocked her unconscious again?"

"She was an asshole," Cyon objected. "Besides, there's only one of us getting out of this, and I sure didn't want it to be her."

Cyon turned back just as a young girl with hazel eyes released an arrow aimed at his head. Ivory's mouth opened in horror as she watched it fly towards Cyon.

The arrow never struck him. Instead, it buried itself in the head of Emere Lane.

The girl clapped a hand over her mouth, her eyes widening. Ivory could tell that she had just killed her own teammate.

"What the hell did you just do, Avalon?" Another girl, Josephine, raged. "You idiot!"

It seemed Avalon had hesitated a second too long, as a knife buried itself in her stomach.

Ivory closed her eyes before she could watch the girl collapse onto the ground. She didn't want to see any more death.

"Ivory, watch out!" Willis let out a cry as Ivory felt something whiz by her face. She turned to see a throwing knife embedded in the wall, with a dark-skinned, determined girl glaring at her fiercely. Ivory managed to roll her eyes at the girl, then flung her own knife at her.

For once, her aim was close to perfect. Sure, it may have hit her stomach instead of her heart, but it still hit. The girl collapsed, her face frozen in horror.

Another hard slam, the pain numbing. Ivory cried out in despair as she spiralled into black abyss.

EVORA GIMP  

DROPPED OUT