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chapter three
FULFILLING PROPHECIES

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tw: mention of violence and character death

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It took a couple days for the tape to come in. First, Philo needed to find it, eventually earning access to the film by asking the right people. Then, it needed to be shipped to Sage's Mansion in Ten, going through the complicated postal process. Nevertheless, the package has ended up on her doorstep, something she's been impatiently waiting for yet at the same time dreading.

Whatever she's about to watch, she hopes it gives her some answers. Preferably, the ones she wants.

Sage pours herself a glass of water, the pitcher trembling in her hands and the ice clinking together. The package came around noon, but she told herself she'd wait until after dinner to open. So throughout the day, she tried to be productive. Stopping at the market, helping Alondra weed her garden, even attempting to recreate one of her mother's famous recipes. It was going pretty well, until smoke flooded her kitchen and set off the fire alarm, resulting in her settling for a bowl of cereal.

Her eyes nervously dart toward the package sitting along her counter. It feels so daunting. A part of her thinks about sending it back, telling Philo she's changed her mind. Perhaps it would be easier that way.

Easier isn't always better.

She drums her fingers softly against the granite, gnawing on her bottom lip as she stares. It's been almost a week since the Gala. Sometimes, that feels like a century, others, it feels like seconds. What was something she expected to be terrifying and dreadful somehow had a silver lining. When she thinks about his manners, his charm, his kindness... and his lips, she feels herself melting into a girlish crush she thought one didn't catch after a certain age.

Sage is excited about Ptolemus, even if she's unwilling to admit that out loud. Almost so excited she wonders if there will be more than just seeing each other at Capitol parties once in a while. Perhaps every few weeks or months they'll reunite, fall back into familiar conversation and steal another dance (and maybe another kiss?). All so they don't have to make conversation with the predatory aristocrats.

But depending on that tape, all that burning excitement could fizzle out faster than a wink. Reality would send her crashing back down from the atmosphere to the unforgiving earth where her brothers, family and other skeptics warn her of the Legacy from Two. She doesn't want to be wrong. So what's worse? Being wrong now, right at the beginning where it isn't too late to turn around, or somewhere further down the road where it might take longer to retrace your steps?

With a sigh, Sage snatches the package, it crinkling in her grasp. She tears it open, mangling the packing tape and stamp along the corner. Philo's return address is ripped clean. She feels her stomach tie itself tighter at the weight of the tape in her hand. The title reads exactly what she thought it would.

"SIXTY-NINETH HUNGER GAMES - PTOLEMUS PIERCE"

Her footsteps echo through her empty house as she maneuvers from the kitchen to the living room with her water and tape in tow. The sun has slowly begun its descent into the horizon, casting a glowing amber across the sky and through the windowpanes. Warm shadows dance along the walls. Sage crouches in front of her TV, popping the tape into her Player with a satisfying click. She's just flopping into the cushions of her couch when the Panem anthem starts to play.

Sage can't decide if she wants a blanket or not. Curling up to watch The Hunger Games like an old movie? It feels slimy. She imagines this is what The Capitol citizens do, maybe hosting watch parties with Hor D'oeuvres and cocktails, choosing their favorites and placing bets. They're just starting The Reaping at District One when she finally concedes to reach for comfort, fumbling to splay the blanket across her body. She brings her knees to her chest.

The first half of the Career Pack is notably beautiful, the female tribute with hot pink curls (clearly dyed with her brown roots) that cascade all the way down to her waist and eyes that glisten like honey in the glaring sunlight. She looks strong too, arms and shoulders toned as she almost bows to the crowd cheering for her. Gemma is her name. Her District partner, Bezel, is short but muscular, the bone structure of his face as symmetrical as a specially crafted gemstone.

Then comes District Two. Sage fidgets with the frayed edge of her blanket as she watches. Sterling, the female tribute, is as terrifying as you'd expect her to be. Tall and lean, her walk exudes a lethal grace that tells you she could kill you in one smooth movement that would happen so fast no one could anticipate it. She appears deviously amused when standing along the stage.

Sage feels her heart hiccup at the sound of a familiar voice. "I volunteer as tribute!"

Ptolemus looks a tad bit younger. After all, his Games were three years ago, almost four. Sage guesses he's sixteen here. The youngest of the Career pack. Yet the tallest.

His walk is familiar as she watches him stalk across the stage toward District Two's Escort. The crowd seems to roar in one synchronous battle cry. After Ptolemus and his District Partner shake hands, they swivel on their heels, throwing their intertwined grasp into the air. That makes the crowd go crazy, almost howling like a fearsome pack of hungry wolves. It sends a shiver down Sage's spine, and she tucks her blanket around her body tighter. She studies Ptolemus's features meticulously for any hints or clues. Cracks in a brutish façade or a perfect, shiny mold that shows no sign of tarnishing. She fails to reach a conclusion before the screen flickers to District Three's Reaping.

The atmosphere is starkly different. The sudden silence from Three after Two's ravenous roar almost makes Sage's ears buzz. The two tributes fortunately aren't young, but they do look uncannily similar. It's when their Escort repeats their names that Sage realizes they must be related, surnames exactly the same. Her heart drops.

District Four reaps an eighteen and seventeen year old. Both appear strong, their skin tanned and highlights from the sun flashing across their locks. Sage takes a few sips from her water during the Reapings of Five and Six, her mouth growing painfully dry. One of her allies, Axel, had been from Six. Sage almost chokes when she hears his painful groans echoing between the corners of her skull in memory as she desperately tried to heal his mortal wounds from an attack by vulture-like mutts. But just like some of the cattle attacked by coyotes or horses with a broken leg on Ten's farms, despite her efforts and medical knowledge, he was lost.

The girl from Seven thankfully looks nothing like Sage's other ally, Calla. She was killed by the girl from One after they'd been attacked right at dawn. However, her District Partner catches Sage's eye. Particularly because he looks so angry. Understandably so, he's just been called to die while the government makes a spectacle of his murder. His hands are fists at his side, jaw locked, glare boring into the distance. He doesn't shake his District Partner's hand despite his Escort's urging. Kerf is his name.

District Eight's female tribute has a clever look in her eyes. The boy from District Nine is a giant at just fifteen. Sage shifts along the couch when she spots the familiar Reaping Stage of Ten, her spine becoming as straight as a post, memories of what it looks like to be the one standing on it replaying again. She waits to see if she recognizes the tributes. Thankfully, she doesn't. A seventeen year old girl from the Beef Sector and a thirteen year old boy from the Poultry Sector. Thalia and Mavis.

She prays Ptolemus isn't the one to kill them.

Both of the tributes from Eleven stand tall and proud, their features completely unreadable. The tributes from Twelve look like skeletons on their stage about to collapse into dust any second.

Within a blink, the screen fizzles into the Opening Ceremonies, more announcements and meaningless pleasantries offered by Caesar Flickerman and Claudius Templesmith. The chariots come trotting out as the crowd of Capitol people squeal and scream in delight. Sweat gathers at the nape of Sage's neck and along her palms as she wipes at her blanket. The inside of her mouth burns sourly. She's starting to feel queasy. Perhaps watching anything to do with the Games wasn't a good idea, not this soon since she won her own.

In less than four months she'll have to face it all again though. She'll be a Mentor, taking Alondra's spot this year. She'll be expected to relive her worst nightmare while coaching another poor soul to survive it.

Sage suddenly grabs the remote, sharply pointing it at the screen and pressing pause. Her breath shakes as she does so. Tears are stinging in her eyes, and she launches herself off the couch, feet tangling in the blanket. Just as she's starting toward her front door, desperate for a breath of fresh air, something catches her eye.

Well, someone.

Ptolemus looks handsome, of course. Districts One and Two tend to be the better dressed Districts, their costumes complementary and beautifully crafted rather than foolish, insulting and bizarre. But his attractive features aren't what's caused Sage to stop in her tracks. Her arms wrap around herself as she straightens, swallowing the sour bile down her throat.

There it is. Well, maybe, there it is. What she was looking for before. Cracks in his façade or a perfect, shiny mold with no signs of tarnishing. Either option would give Sage an answer, preferable or disappointing, but still an answer.

Ptolemus stands in his Chariot beside his partner, the image frozen with them waving at the crowd. They're dressed like warriors of sorts, steely metals wrapped around their frames and silver dust shimmering across their skin. He's smiling a big cocky grin. It makes him look like his father, Nero. But as she stares, Sage spots the crack in Ptolemus Pierce's façade.

His smile doesn't reach his sad, blue eyes.

Sage stares for a few moments longer to ensure she's seeing what she thinks she's seeing. She also waits for the sickness to fade while taking deep breaths through her nose. After a few minutes, it's still there, but it doesn't feel strong enough to reduce her to a puddle like it did before. She decides to fast forward through the Opening Ceremonies until she reaches Ptolemus's interview.

Perhaps there will be more cracks.

Slowly, she curls back up on the couch, tucking her legs beneath her. Another sip of water. Caesar wears a canary yellow wig, his lips and eyelids matching perfectly. "Let's welcome our next tribute, and probably our most famous tribute." He wiggles his eyebrows deviously at that as he smirks. "Ladies and gentleman, from District Two, the Ptolemus Pierce! Our very own Legacy in the making!"

The crowd goes wild at that, offering the sixteen year old a standing ovation as he emerges from the darkness behind the stage. He's dressed in an all black suit, the jacket twinkling beneath the light, onyx diamonds arranged in vertical lines. Sage shifts as he confidently stalks across the stage, bidding the audience a few polite smiles and waves.

There's a walk to him. The way his shoulders move with each stride, the slight raise to his chin, even the way his cool gaze looks through the crowd. He's been doing this for a while. Before, as the son to two Victors from a notorious District always meant to be in the limelight just for his name. Now, as a tribute that finally has the potential to live up to it.

He greets Caesar like an old friend, waving to the crowd once more before sitting along the velvet Hot Seat. The host looks the giddiest Sage has probably ever seen him in an Interview.

"Oh, Ptolemus, it is so good to see you on this stage. We have been waiting for this moment since the day you were born." Caesar gestures toward the crowd. "Haven't we been patiently waiting?"

"YES!" The Capitol people cry.

The host turns back to the tribute from Two. "Well there you have it, Mr. Pierce, we are delighted to have you!"

"Delighted to be here," Ptolemus nods. Sage just watches nervously, hoping and waiting for more cracks in his armor. Did his voice sound flat when he said that? Maybe rehearsed? Or did he sound excited? She picks him apart for the answers she needs.

Caesar inches forward on his seat, turning his body completely toward the tribute. His mannerisms remind her of an excited little kid. He smiles with his bright yellow lips. "So, we are dying to know just how does it feel to finally be here? Surely, your parents are proud."

Ptolemus is pretty good at hiding his reactions. But Sage is even better at observing. A muscle in his cheek twitches at the mere mention of his parents, his lips turning up into a smile that covers up the movement smoothly. "They're excited, definitely. They'll be proud when I bring back the Crown to my District."

He never answers Caesar's first question.

"Ooh, the confidence, I love it!" Caesar grins brighter, almost curling his toes. There's a few cheers from the crowd in agreement. "Ready to grant more glory to the Pierce family name."

"Got no other choice but to, right?" Ptolemus chirps quickly, lips twitching upward. The glimmer in his eyes hides something The Capitol people don't seem to notice, not even Caesar sitting so close.

His words from the Garden replay in Sage's mind. I wasn't taught to want anything else.

"Yes, I'm sure growing up in that household could have brought upon a lot of pressure." Caesar's tone almost resembles sympathy. Then his elbow gently nudges Ptolemus's ribs. "Chores probably consisted of washing the dishes and hand-on-hand combat with Dad, right?" There goes that supposed sympathy. He barks out an obnoxious laugh, looking toward the crowd, who like a mirror, do the exact same thing. Ptolemus's lips press into a thin smile again as he nods and waits.

Finally, the dramatic belly laughter draws to a close as Caesar wipes a fake tear from his eye, not a smudge of eyeshadow in sight. "Speaking of!" The host straightens. "I hear you're pretty good with a sword. As in, earning a rank of TWELVE pretty good with a sword! If I remember correctly, that's exactly what your mother had gotten."

Sage's jaw drops slightly at that. A twelve? She expected him to have a high score, being a Career and all, but she didn't imagine that. Her stomach knots at the idea of seeing what exactly the performance of a Twelve warrants in the Arena.

Ptolemus glances to his score and image along the screen behind them. He shrugs. "The apple doesn't fall far from the tree, I guess."

"She's probably beaming with pride."

"I'd hope so." Ptolemus clicks his tongue to the roof of his mouth, pausing for a moment. His blue eyes bore into the floor as he decides something. He straightens in his seat, draping an arm across the top of the Loveseat. "My parents aren't the only ones I want to do right by, though."

Caesar raises his lemon brows, drawing the microphone back beneath his lips. "Oh?" The microphone goes right back to the tribute.

"Yeah, uh, my sister you know. She was in the Sixty-Fifth Games."

"Ah, Alessandra Pierce." The host wilts like a dying flower as he looks to the crowd. "Such a lovely girl. She put up quite the fight those Games."

Sage barely remembers them. She was eleven, only one year away from her first Reaping, when they had occurred. There's no face to go with her name, the only memory being of the fourteen year old boy from Four who won, the youngest Victor ever. Finnick Odair. She vaguely remembers seeing him admiring an aquamarine necklace at the Gleam Gala.

Finnick Odair was Panem's Victor that year. Not a Pierce, despite their reputation. What did that do to Nero and Petra Pierce of District Two, their daughter and prodigy losing to a fourteen year old boy?

What did it mean to Ptolemus to lose a sister? Sage couldn't imagine ever losing one of her brothers, even if they're louder than the two-hundred cows.

Ptolemus licks his lips, nodding softly as his gaze drifts back to the stage floor. "Yeah, she tried her best. I— I miss her a lot." His fingers drum along the Loveseat anxiously. He's starting to resemble to boy who danced with her in the Garden. "She was the funny one. Was really good at the piano too."

"I remember her marksmanship with a bow and arrow as well. It was astonishing." Ptolemus's jaw ticks at Caesar's comment. His glare shifts to the crowd, staring through them again as the host places a soft and encouraging pat on the tribute's knee. "I'm sure she'll be watching over you in that Arena. Whatever happens, you'll do her proud."

"I sure hope so."

With that, the timer for his Interview goes up, signaling it's time to move onto District Three. Caesar and Ptolemus bid their goodbyes, the latter offering a hollow smile as he stalks off the stage. Sage pauses the tape once more while she stares at his retreating back. He's done enough to convince The Capitol people he's ecstatic to be there, ready to live up to his family name, dowsing his sword in blood to honor their expectations. But The Capitol people are shallow, it doesn't take more than shallow responses to persuade them.

For Sage, she knows there's something deeper hidden. Unlike his other Career counterparts, Ptolemus Pierce doesn't truly want to be here. He just has no other choice but to be, thanks to his name.

Eventually, Sage finds the courage to fast forward through all the interviews until the Arena. A nervous air whirls right in her chest. She doesn't want to watch this. But she does. She wants to know. But she doesn't want to know. She's not even sure if she can handle this right now. He's from Two, training for this for years, probably teaming up with all the other Careers to hunt down the other tributes. Tributes like her in her own Games.

It's not fair to hold what one does in the Games against them, is it?

Sage thinks of her three kills in the Arena. The boy from Five who attacked her in her sleep, attempting to steal her supplies, herself screaming in the dark and blindly slashing her hatchet in the air until it hit something hard, warm splatters of blood painting her face. His cannon went off immediately. Niels was his name.

Eventually, she had teamed up with her promised allies from Six and Seven, Axel and Calla. Her District Partner, Lance, hadn't survived the Bloodbath, otherwise he might have joined them. Their alliance didn't make it for long, Axel being attacked by the mutts and dying from his wounds despite Sage's efforts. By the next day, Calla and her were ambushed at dawn, resulting in her ally dying from an arrow to the head. Sage didn't think when she threw her hatchet at the girl from One, just did it, Carnelia falling dead upon impact. She ran off before the rest of the Career pack (now only consisting of Midas and Morta) could turn her into just another picture in the Arena Sky.

She'd lead Midas to his death only two days later when he had finally tracked her down, everyone else dead and gone. Three kills. Sage killed three people to come home. To survive.

Sage had never hurt anyone or anything (except for some mild rough-housing with her brothers, particularly Colt) until The Games.

That's because The Games change you.

Finally, she reaches the countdown of the Arena, all the tributes standing on their pedestals stiffly as they take in their surroundings. What strikes Sage first is the endless and towering mountains. They stand in the center of a giant mountain range, ice caps at the top of them despite greenery still decorating the trees. No snow coats the hard ground. There's a river on one side of the Cornucopia, leaving some tributes no choice but to cross if they want to flee from their pedestal safely.

Her heart lurches in her chest when the countdown is over, figures bursting from their starting points. Despite being placed further from the Cornucopia due to his score, Ptolemus makes it there before most of the other tributes, a gleam of tall silver flashing in his grip. He just waits, holding it and watching as other children do their best to avoid him. He lets a girl zip right by him into the Cornucopia to retrieve a backpack and small knife. She gives him an uneasy look as she attempts to scamper off.

And then her head falls. Sage gasps, shutting her eyes and turning her head away. That sour taste is coming back. Did he do that? She's not sure if that blur of silver was from him. Why let her take the supplies only to brutally slaughter her on her way out?

She fumbles for the remote blindly again. "Fuck, fuck, fuck." She wants to crawl out of her own flesh as she becomes dizzy. Memories try to attack her mind from all angles. This wasn't a good idea.

Sage shivers as she peeks an eye open. Along the screen, Sterling, his District partner, stands proudly above the girl's body, her own blade dripping crimson. She gives Ptolemus a dirty and narrow look, sizing him up.

"Let's see if you live up to your name, huh?"

The bloodbath resumes. Sage keeps her eye on Ptolemus. Most of the tributes avoid him, and unlike his allies, he doesn't actively seek anyone out. The boy from Six attempts to swing a scythe at his back, but within moments, Ptolemus has him disarmed. With a score of Twelve, he should be able to kill him easily. Instead, he only leaves the boy with a wound along his shoulder, serving as a warning before allowing him to flee toward the tree line.

Eleven die in the bloodbath total. Almost half the tributes.

Over the next few days, the Careers mostly remain near the Cornucopia, utilizing what's left of the supplies. Both of the tributes from Four have joined the Career pack, something that isn't always a guarantee given their District hasn't adopted a similar ideology to the Games that One and Two have. Nonetheless, they still end up being one of the better prepared Districts due to their occupations, earning them the title of Careers. Immediately, Sage notices the burning glares Ptolemus sends them, particularly the male tribute. One would expect him to become engulfed in flame at this point.

It takes her a moment to remember what might warrant such distaste for a boy you hardly know. It's not the boy himself. It's where he's from and what that represents for The Legacy from the Two. A painful reminder for the sister he lost.

They only stray in the early hours of the morning, right before the sun breaks across the horizon, hunting the other tributes. Sterling kills the girl from Three in her sleep. Bezel and Gemma find amusement in taking down the tributes from Ten. Sage has to fast forward through that part. Neither of the Careers from Four participate, nor Ptolemus surprisingly. On the fifth day, when they come back from their "hunt," the river has risen drastically, signaling it might be time to move on. They march through the forest and toward the southern mountain ranges.

Meanwhile, throughout the Arena, it seems the only water source is the river or the snow caps. One tribute has marched his way to the top with intense determination. Kerf, from Seven, sits along a rock in the snow, simply waiting with his ax in tow as he glares out toward the Cornucopia.

The boys from Five and Twelve perish at the hands of mutts that seem to resemble a ram, their curved horns long and sharp and fury like a bull's. An alliance between the clever girl from Eight and the giant boy from Nine has formed as they roam along the base of the mountains. On the Eighth day, a bone-chilling song echoes between the trees and the sky that seems to make even the Careers uneasy.

Sage recognizes it in a heartbeat.

Wolves.

Or at least, something like that, The Capitol surely adding their own twist.

The pack of Wolf-like mutts descends upon The Careers quickly. Quite literally, the creations able to climb through the pines as they travel across the forest. They leap down from the branches, a large one with ebony fur yanking Gemma to the ground immediately, her pink hair blending with a crimson halo around her body. Her cannon fires at the same time a wolf howls.

Ptolemus swings his sword at a snarling Mutt, a whimper replacing its growls as it falls to the hard earth. He barely turns in time to swat another one down with his blade. Bezel's screams splinter the air as if it were made of glass as two wolves drag his thrashing body away, tearing him apart with ease. Meanwhile, even Sterling seems to struggle against the beasts, blood dropping from her right arm, forcing her to switch her blade's grip to her other hand.

Sage knows how this ends. Either way, she still gasps when a wolf knocks Ptolemus by surprise, barreling into his knees and sending him sprawling. His sword clatters away from him against a tree.

The wolf snarls as it bears its fangs, slobber and blood flying from its jaws. Ptolemus barely keeps its snapping mouth from his throat, straining to hold the creature at bay. One of his hands fumbles for the blade at his thigh. That gives the wolf enough leverage to lurch forward to tear out his throat.

Crimson falls like heavy rain, drenching Ptolemus's face as he chokes and sputters. The wolf's thrashing body stiffens and stills, it's heavy dead weight pinning the boy to the ground. Something sharp pokes the soft flesh of his neck briefly before disappearing. He attempts to blink the blood out of his lashes as he heaves the wolf's body from his own.

He stands up too quickly, almost falling down again as his ankles wobble. His blue eyes search wildly for his sword.

"Here."

The boy from Four holds Ptolemus's sword, offering it to him steadily. The latter just stares for a moment. Then he notices the wolf's blood on his ally's spear.

Ptolemus just nods silently, taking it from his grip as he wipes at his face. More blood smears despite his efforts. It takes him a moment to realize the growls and snarls have ceased. Bodies of wolves litter the forest surrounding them.

A shrill shriek bursts through the air with a disgusting crunch. Both boys tense, wielding their weapons readily as they expect more mutts. They're met with something else.

The cannon for the girl from Four sounds as Sterling stands over her lifeless body, chest heaving and an unnerving glint in her eye. Like the wolves before her, her gaze snaps toward the two boys, lips curled into a snarl. She adjusts her grip on her sword as she glances between the boy from Four and Ptolemus.

"Ready, Tol?"

The boy from Four's eyes widen in horror as he staggers away from Ptolemus. His nervous eyes keep darting between the tributes from Two and his dead District Partner. Could they have been planning this the whole time? Ptolemus glances to the boy with an unreadable gaze.

Meanwhile, Sterling begins to circle, twirling her sword in her grip. Blood still drips down her right arm, the limb dangling strangely from the socket of her shoulder. She smirks. "Tolly here doesn't really like tributes from Four. Ya know, with them killing his sister and all."

Then she shrugs. "Me? Well I just want to win. Don't take it too personal."

Ptolemus prepares to circle the boy too, the tributes from Two acting as a pack. Four dances anxiously on the balls of his feet, unsure of who to maintain eye contact with, spear changing directions repeatedly.

"It's pretty crazy a fourteen-year old beat your sister, huh?" Sterling quirks a brow as she watches Ptolemus circle the boy. "Good thing now's your chance for vengeance. What did Caesar say? You'll do her proud?"

The boy from Four almost bursts from anxiety, grinding his teeth together. "Do you always talk so much?"

Sterling smiles. She doesn't seem to notice the way Ptolemus has increased his pace in their circular path by two steps. When the boy from Four lurches forward with his spear, she barks out a laugh, batting it away with ease.

"Only when—"

There's a sickening squish of flesh and blood as the words die right in Sterling's throat. Her eyes widen, sword clattering to the ground. A silver blade protrudes from her abdomen, and the fabric of her Arena attire curls around it. Blood begins to gurgle in her throat as her knees buckle. Her body crumples once Ptolemus pulls out his sword from behind her. She chokes on her own blood as she peers up at the sky, her District Partner carefully shifting into her view.

"You don't get to talk about my sister."

Her cannon booms through the atmosphere.

And then there's just painful silence. Ptolemus and the boy from Four stare at each other for what feels like forever, the latter completely bewildered.

Eventually, Ptolemus sighs. "Even?"

A pause. Then he nods. "Even."

The tribute from Two seems satisfied, adjusting his sword in his grip as he peers up at the sky. Then he clicks his tongue to the roof of his mouth. "There's six of us left. We should probably split up."

The boy from Four looks like he might object for a moment, but doesn't, only nodding. They silently gather their supplies that had scattered in the struggle. The boy from Four hovers over his District Partner silently and sadly, reaching down to gently close her eyes. He wipes away a tear quickly before turning to spot Ptolemus already stalking away and toward the mountains. With that, he decides to go west, still avoiding the north with the rising river.

Two more uneventful days go by. Kerf remains at the top of the mountain, simply waiting for whoever is willing to climb and meet him head on. Besides fighting off a few rams, he has yet to run into another tribute since Day One. The girl from Eight and the boy from Nine have been out of food for days, finally leaving their shelter at the base of the mountain in an attempt to hunt. The girl from Eleven continues to walk aimlessly through the Arena.

The Gamemakers must become bored, because they unleash another mutt into the Arena. A giant Grizzly with claws like blades barrels throughout the forest in search for its prey. The boy from Four stumbles upon the female tribute from Eleven's mutilated body. Before he can even think to run, he meets a similar fate, the Grizzly impaling him to a tree with its claws.

Final four. Ptolemus is working his way up the mountain when he's ambushed by the girl from Eight and the boy from Nine. Seemingly, she's the brains and he's the brawn as she calls out warnings to her ally. She has Ptolemus's fighting style practically memorized, urging her ally of countermoves from her post away from the brawl.

The boy from Nine gets Ptolemus in the arm with his knife, dragging it down his bicep. The latter shrieks before slamming the end of his sword handle into the boy's nose. It makes a sickening crack, blood spewing. He utilizes the temporary blindness to twist his sword into his adversary's gut. A cannon follows shortly after as the boy bleeds out on the ground.

When Ptolemus's wild gaze hunts for the girl from Eight, she's gone, abandoning her post and her ally. He tears a part of his uniform and ties it around his bleeding wound, before resuming his climb up the mountain.

It takes him half a day to reach the top. As he makes the climb, he notes small clues of the girl's own journey ahead of him. Just when he's approaching the summit, a cannon shakes the world around him.

One more. One more person left besides him.

When he emerges, the air thinner and colder as his heavy breath fans in front of him, it begins to snow. Soft, white flakes cascade gently down from the overcast sky. Even so, some of it tangles into his lashes. Ptolemus peers toward the edge of the mountain as a hovercraft looms above, claw reaching downward for a body. While it's lifted into the air, he recognizes it as the girl from Eight.

Footsteps approach him quickly from behind. Ptolemus barely dodges Kerf's ax, the blade whipping dangerously close to his nose. The boy from Seven strikes again viciously, metal screeching against each other as Ptolemus wields his sword in front of him. The two strike and block one another repeatedly. As they do, the snow falls faster and in thicker sheets, even making it difficult for viewers to see.

Suddenly, Kerf slows his blows. His shadow disappears into the snow, and Ptolemus whirls around, panting as he searches. Painful silence that feels like hours follows.

His ax swipes at him from the right and right against the wound on his bicep again. Ptolemus cries out as air hisses between his teeth. He stumbles away, scarcely bringing his sword back up in time. Kerf continues to strike with brutal animosity, hardly slowing. All Ptolemus can do is back pedal and block his attacks. He yelps when his left foot slips along the edge of the mountain, nearly losing his balance. Kerf swipes at him again.

Ptolemus propels himself forward with a grunt, diving his skull right into the boy's ribs. They land on the ground with a loud thud. They begin to roll across the snow with their weapons tight in their grasps, punching and slashing when they can.

At one point, Kerf hovers above the boy from Two, grinding the blade of his ax against his sword. With his free hand, Ptolemus reaches blindly beside him, eventually latching onto an icy rock. He slams it against the side of Kerf's skull, stunning him. His knee jerks into the boy's ribs and he gapes for air.

With one smooth shove of his sword, the ax goes sailing from Kerf's grip. Ptolemus lurches his weight forward to push the boy off him. He scrambles for his ax in the snow. Ptolemus tries to make his death quick.

Just when Kerf finds his ax, swinging it up toward a looming Ptolemus, the former sends his sword right through his chest, piercing his heart. He dies almost instantly. When the cannon goes off, Ptolemus pulls the sword from the boy's body, gently allowing him to fall into the snow. Claudius Templesmith's voice echoes through the sky.

"Ladies and gentleman, may I present to you, the Victor of the Sixty-Nineth Hunger Games."

He stabs his bloodied sword into the porcelain snow, staining it.

"Ptolemus Pierce!"

And now, Sage knows just what it took for a prodigy like him to become a Victor.

━━━━

»»————-　♡　————-««

thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed! Please feel free to comment, I love hearing from you!

I didn't mean for this chapter to cover so much about Ptolemus, but let me know what you think of his Games! Any predictions for the future? Did I talk about Ptolemus too much? It's hard balancing the characters, but trust me, Sage is important and cool too!! She is not just a love interest! They are both equally important main characters in this story :)

Also, I imagine Ptolemus as having his hair a little longer like Drew Starkey had it in Season 2 of OBX, but when he's older like Catching Fire Era he's going to have the buzz cut that Drew Starkey had in season 3!

Below is some gifs I made, as well as a manip and a picture of what I imagined Ptolemus's interview outfit to look like.

Word Count: 6176