Elijah's feet were coated in sores that bled as profusely as the sun did shine down upon them. Though the day was fair, with nothing but soft skies and a welcomed even temperature, the fact that he was still in the arena was enough to ruin it all. Bruises, the occasional cut, and an alliance that was half stupid, half coward did nothing to help the situation. And to think I had hopes, he thought. Each singular word coincided with the footfall of his feet as he made his way upinto the beginning of a well-kept garden. Whatever wretchedness he held deep within his heart, whatever the deaths and body counts, it all faded to dust and rusted before his eyes as he gazed upon the greens, yellows, and oranges that seemed to kiss the air and leave behind wakes of fitful agony. Beauty, in its highest form, yet the beauty only spelled out death.

"Such wonders, only seen at day; it is the wonders of night that truly are to kill the eye," he muttered.

Beside him, Garlic was climbing up the hill. Dirt and grime covered his face. While it coated Elijah too, the boy looked as though he'd been rolling around in it all morning. "Why do you talk so weird?" he asked, a frown prevalent on his face.

Elijah shrugged, casting his gaze away to a rock that glistened in the heat. "I speak proper," he explained, "because Ellie enjoyed it whenI talked to her like this. She loves it when I speak proper, unlike the ill-bred around us who never have time for stories and the like. It makes people listen."

"People don't listen to you otherwise?"

"Would you take to my command half as well if every word I spoke to you came out with a vigor of slurs and wallowed words?"

His mouth shut tight and it was clear he was keeping himself from saying something else. Elijah didn't mind. A few moments without listening to Garlic's voice were taken in gratitude no matter the situation. If only the entire day would go like that—But I don't want there to be another day. I want them all to die. I need to get home—no, no...I need to get Melissa home. Her family needs her. She's important. More important than me. These Games need to end now so I can get her back safely. Ellie will love that. A last, valiant story. One of a handsome knight saving a beautiful princess.

Only, the princess isn't going to become the queen, for that is her sisters job. Melissa is still important. If the tables were turned would she be protecting me? The thoughts wound throughout his head. Memories of her older sister, a girl named Veronica who was Elijah's age, passed through his head. She, like Melissa, had red hair fiery enough to burn down an mansion. Her freckles and wild nature left her a queen among all she met. The true ruler of all. Never was there a sweeter girl than she. Melissa did not live up to the code, but still he vowed to protect her, to keep her safe even if she wasn't the girl he would've wanted. Even if he would never get the girl he might've wanted.

Veronica had never known his liking for her and she never would. When Melissa got home alive that would be her only thoughts of him. A brace knight. One Ellie would tell stories to her friends about. Ellie and Melissa, oh, it brought joy to his heart to think of those two girls getting to play together once more.

"Elijah?" Melissa murmured, her voice soft against the loud day. She too had found her way up the hill to stand beside him. "Elijah, are we still in the arena?"

"Yes."

She nodded, then placed a delicate hand on his shoulder, stopping him from walking further. "Why is it so beautiful?"

A sigh lined his voice and traveled throughout the world in small wisps, "The best lain beauties are often found to contain poison far more dangerous than any know." This is some sort of trap, isn't it?

She nodded. "Should we go in? Garlic seems edgy."

"When isn't that Garlic child edgy?" Elijah laughed in good humor, then nodded back at her. "Yes, we should go in. No doubt they'll do something crazy like set the arena on fire if we don't."

Shadows crossed her face, a storm brewing just below the surface. "I've had enough fire to last me a lifetime," she muttered. Then, they went forward. No words were needed for none could be found to better sum the situation.

Elijah had noticed the dark burns coating her arm but he did his best not to mention them. It disfigured the pretty girl, leaving her with permanent scars that might never heal. She hissed whenever something touched it and flinched back from letting anyone touch her in general. I allowed them to hurt her because I didn't pay her any mind. I've failed, he thought. The thoughts came with the heavy weight of a leader.

It was nonsensical, yet it existed, that weight that bore down on him. The heaviness of a polished flower, almost as bright as the white ones that dotted the gardens before him, resting gently against his neck. It nuzzled him and spoke whispers in his ear--the whispers of a voice that threatened to capsize him and leave him wanting for air in the depths of a world far too complex for him to truly understand. Elijah looked upon his two partners, watching as they walked, the way Garlic held a slight limp and the way Melissa favored her right leg. He watched the way they looked back, each in their own time, to make sure they were going the same direction as he. Though he hadn't stepped another foot they watched, waiting, for him to go.

"It's time," he whispered. Another moment he waited on top of the hill, taking in the sights before going forward into them.

It'd been nearly three days, probably exactly that, and finally Elijah had found them a place to go. A garden, with flowers that overcame it all, and hedges that grew far higher than he could climb. Peaceful, loving fences adorned the sides. Mist had appeared around the edges and it led up to the barest beginning of a large castle hidden behind the mass of flora. No animals in sight, none for him to concern himself with, but the leaves rustled with the threat of the unknown. Tributes, perhaps, but that was too easy. Already so many people had died. It was improbable, at least to his reasoning, that any had managed to wander in the same direction they had and stumbled upon the same gardens.

"Think there's food?"

"Of course, Garlic. They're not trying to kill us," Elijah told him. Pain ached up his sides--faint memories of hours scrounging for food and fighting off killers. "Not yet. In fact, they want to keep us alive for at least three more days. Then, an epic finale. The epitome of all that stands before us, the death of majority and the life to one pitiful soul. I only hope that I will not see you there in the end."

Garlic agreed. It seemed that even he understood the simple truth of the games. Fear led them, it drove them, and it broke every alliance. In the end, they would have to kill one another. Standing to reason why he desired not to be with them in the end, for if he were he would have to kill them. Incredible ways of destruction, deception, and delightful prosecution awaited them. Oh, what pleasure the makers must gain from this. What gleeful ecstasy must course through their veins.

"Me too," Melissa told him. Then she stopped walking and a hideous shock crept over her face. "Elijah?"

"Yes?"

"Elijah?" Shrilly her voice did rise as she called out, "Elijah? Elijah! What's that?" Trembles shook her. "Elijah?"

"Hush!"

Lips of chapped red clamped immediately and silence overtook the air. Eyes widened and Elijah wasn't immune to the way his body reacted to the sight.

Cards.

Playing cards were walking through the gardens. The first he saw were a pair of two--one with a long range weapon and one with a thin sword that bordered on surreal. Spades rounded the edges and a blue line, in the shape of a rectangle, formed around a small number that was printed once and twice opposite of another. The pair was a three and a nine, the latter being the close range. Interesting. Guards? They had thin arms and thinner bodies.

Like clockwork they reached the edges of a certain set of hedges before turning and briskly walking the other direction.

"They're guards," Elijah told them. Walking until he was out the furthest, Elijah turned to get a good look on both the child and Melissa. "We're going to need a plan to divert their attention. Standing as is, one will attack and the other shall defend it. We're useless all attacking at once."

Garlic coughed deeply, as though mucus had gathered up tight inside his throat. "So we divide them?"

"We'll have to," Melissa cut in. Standing up again, Melissa? Perhaps you are stronger than I initially thought. "Won't we, Elijah?" And there goes the timid.

"Yes. Melissa, hang back. I don't want you getting hurt. Stay here and watch us, make certain nothing is going to attack. Garlic, I need you to run towards them."

"What? I'm not fucking crazy," Garlic said. He spat on the ground.

"Do it," Elijah said, "and trust me. I have a plan. Run forward, we need to see what they'll do. If they go to attack fall on the ground and pretend you're dead. Can you do this?" Elijah stooped low to the ground and drew in the dirt with a sharp stick he'd picked up. Unlike a knife or sword it did little to help, but little was better than none.

Though he bit his lip and his nose curled up, the Garlic Child caved and let out a growl of a sigh. Then, he ran forward, screaming at the top of his lungs. Good. Limbs flailing, he caught their attention within a matter of seconds and dropped to the ground. The three ran to meet him, weapon held out, but the nine stayed back with his weapon drawn. Garlic, true to his word, remained on the ground. After the three had gotten close enough to kill, Elijah took off running.

"Stay down," he shouted. Without a second thought Elijah threw his weapon, striking the card and cutting it through the middle. Now it was the one to flail and Elijah tackled it to the ground, cursing as the nine sent arrow after arrow to them. As the three quit moving, Elijah picked up the sharp weapon and lay on the ground next to Garlic.

Dirt matted his hair to his eyes and Elijah huffed, trying to think of a good way to defeat the nine. It was obvious the three had been the weaker of the two, but how thick could a card really be? "They're made of thick paper and wiring," Elijah said. "Any ideas on distracting the nine?"

"Oh no," Garlic said, "I'm not doing that again."

"Do you want to fight that thing?"

As if to further his words, an arrow came tumbling past, whooshing against Garlic's ear as it did so. The boy cussed fluently before sighing. "Fine. Anymore plans in that head of yours?"

Plans? Oh, no, never. I'm never thinking. Elijah laughed. For once, the voice wasn't there to give him an idea or tell him what to do. He was doing things and leading all by himself.

"Just one."

Leaning down, Elijah whispered into his ear. There was a brief second of incredulousness, then a laugh that reached the heavens and cracked the skies.

"You're going to get me killed," Garlic said. But he stood nonetheless, took a step forward, and screamed. "Come and get me," he sang. Another second of standing and then he took off, like lightning in a storm did he catch the world ablaze.

The card tried to shoot at him, but Garlic had exceeded over a hundred feet and the arrows didn't go that far. It took off after, running on thin legs that wobbled every so often. Elijah lay, stiff on the ground, breathing heavily as he waited for it to come close enough. His fingers tightened on the sword, feeling the rough edges of metal and handle mold into the shape of his hand.

Finally! Elijah could kiss the dirt but he didn't--instead, he watched as the card stopped just a foot away to send another shot flying. In that split second of space where nothing happened he struck, the sword swiping out and embedding itself into the side of the creature. Unlike the three, which had been pierced easily, the nine was thicker. It turned and hit him hard across the head with the weapon. Red cut through his vision and swamped him. His head fell to the side and he saw the bright roses again, now painted red in the blood of his vision.

"Fuck," he groaned. Weakly, he tried to pick up the sword and use it again only for the card to stop on his hand and grind the bones into the grass. "Garlic! Garlic!"

"Calling for help?" There. The voice. The sound that refused to leave. "Oh, how weak, Elijah."

Only dimly did he see the child hitting the hard and tackling it to the ground. Groaning, Elijah tried to stand. Pain ached and cut through his scalp with the driving force of a freight train. Crimson and black bled together into his vision and loudness drew him under, a deep lullaby that faded into the solemn noise of the night.