For different parts of the story, I put together a playlist that I listened to while writing those parts. For the next chapters:

Playlist: End of war

- All The Stars – Kendrick Lamar, SZA

- Softcore – The Neighbourhood

- U. – Niteboi

- Loverboy – A-Wall

- The Perfect Girl – Mareux

- Close Eyes – DVRST

- Running Up That Hill (A Deal With God) – Kate Bush

- All The Things She Said (Slowed) - Tatu

Life in Pieces

A cold wind blows through my hair and stirs up the gray dust that has covered the entire Capitol like a second layer of skin. The smell of burnt wood and wet stone hits my nose and every fiber of my body wants to take a step back. I stand in the rubble of the capital. We passed so much destruction on the way here that I expected the worst. Part of me hoped that maybe that would have settled everything. However, fate is not kind to me.

My parents' property looks the same as always. As if they had only left the house for a short time. As if they would come back at any moment. If I squeeze my eyelids shut, I can see them walking out the door and giving me a reproachful look.

Why are you standing out here like that, Euphemia?

Alone the weeds and tall grass in the front yard indicate that no one has returned home for a long time.

"We can come back another time," says Haymitch next to me. He doesn't touch me, but I sense that he would like to. I'm glad he doesn't.

I slowly shake my head and force myself to put one foot in front of the other. I take out the key from my coat pocket that the Rebels in the presidential palace gave me and open the door. I look over my shoulder from Haymitch to the two soldiers in gray uniforms. They stopped at the car that brought us here. A long look at Haymitch is enough to convey my message to him. I don't want strangers entering this house. Haymitch nods and gives the Rebels a hand signal.

The area where my parents' property is located and where I grew up is less affected by the destruction. However, much has been destroyed. There is hardly anything left of the main square where I last met my mother. The same goes for the university and a number of shops and landmarks. But the residential areas escaped unscathed.

I stand in the long hallway, which now seems larger and longer than it already is, and stare transfixed at the family portrait that hangs on the wall next to the dressing room. In the middle are my parents, my mother, of course, dressed up as ever. I'm standing on the left, also dressed up to the nines. Aurelia stands on the right and Caius next to her. We all smile at the camera. The picture must be five years old now because I can still remember the light blue wig on my head and how happy I was when this trend finally came to an end. Strange how trivial things played a role for me back then.

My gaze wanders down the hallway and stops on a cream-white dresser. The car keys are ready to be retrieved in a small silver bowl in case someone has to leave the house at short notice. The door to the dressing room is open and my father's favorite coats are all lined up next to each other. They got them while he was home, that's for sure.

My feet move forward on their own accord, through the marbled hallway to the next wooden double doors that are wide open. The kitchen is sparkling clean, as always. My mother never cooked. Not even in her dreams would she have thought of getting her hands dirty if there were servants for that. The kitchen has always been a cold, soulless place and I leave without actually entering it.

Don't mess things up here, Euphemia, just tell one of the employees what you want to eat.

The living room is warmer. Beige and white dominate with modern furnishings. The touch of my father, who took care of everything that had even the slightest to do with design and construction. And yet ... this room also lacks life. As if this house were nothing more than an exhibition piece; a perfect advertising house that you show to customers, but in which no one actually lives. That's how it has always been. My father was too seldom here to make the house a home, and my mother ... she did everything to maintain the ideal image of an ideal family. And that started with the flawlessness of the estate.

Put the books back where you found them, Euphemia. Everything here is in order.

I open the glass doors that lead out onto the porch and have to take a deep breath to stop my lips from trembling.

The beech trees have lost their leaves, which now blow around in colorful mixtures of brown and orange. Nobody bothered to sweep them up. Of course not. When winter arrived, there had been no one left to take on this task for a long time. Through the trees I have a clear view of the lake in the distance, whose surface shimmers gray.

The image before my eyes is so similar to the one in my dream that I take a step towards the few steps that lead into the garden. I run my right hand over the polished quartz of the parapet, which is no longer completely white due to the weather. Apart from Haymitch's and my breathing, it's dead quiet, not even the birds are chirping. Maybe they know what happened here.

You're not planning on sitting on the steps here, are you?

I turn my head to the side, half expecting to see my mother appear next to me. But there's no one else on the porch except Haymitch and me. Nonetheless, even though I saw her being executed, I feel like she's standing here next to me. I have no idea where my mother is or what they did with her body. Part of me is troubled by the fact that I don't know.

My parents were never really close. At least not outwardly. My father was introverted, easy-going, absorbed in his work. My mother was extroverted, vain and always involved in everyone's life with her nose. I can only hope that they somehow found comfort together in their final hours; that they could support each other before it was over.

I knew it would end like this. I told your father, but he didn't want to hear about it. The moment you showed up to our meeting with him, I knew you would survive.

I look around the rest of the house, but other than tidy rooms, I can't find anything that gives any information about my parents' arrest. No violence, no disorder, no evidence of anything. There is also no trace of Aurelia. I know the walls of this building inside and out and something tells me she hasn't been here since they were arrested. I would have noticed. I have my father's eye in that regard.

I don't look back as I leave the property and get into the car. Sooner or later I'll come back here anyway. If Aurelia is dead, then this is all mine alone. Then it is actually a haunted house. The thought makes bile rise in me.

Don't be absurd, Euphemia, there is no such thing as ghosts. When will you finally grow up?

The world is a completely different one once we arrive in the government district after a thirty-minute drive. Except for the Inner Circle – the part of the city that houses the villas and investments of the elite – and the presidential palace, this is the most exclusive area in the entire Capitol. Anyone who lives here is usually part of the regime or works as a Gamemaker. Was. Until the war ended a week ago and the Rebels took temporary control. Every incumbent who lived here is now in prison.

Almost as centrally located as the Inner Circle, the battle never reached this area of the city. The destruction of the bombs, which left hardly anything of the outskirts of the Capitol, never raged here. Nevertheless, one might think that a massacre took place here. The government district is on fire. The fire department is struggling to extinguish the fires in the affected properties. The Rebels have done a great job of making their job as difficult as possible. Cars and tanks block the streets, so we have to get out on the main road that leads into the district. On the other side of the avenue is the President's famous rose garden, accessible to the public. It's actually just a large green area that borders the presidential palace and its private rose garden.

The first dozen houses we pass could not be saved from the flames. The white facades are marked by black soot that has seeped out of windows and doors and the roofs have collapsed. Only ruins remain of the once majestic complexes. I wonder how many people they left to die inside. The further we go, the more fires are still going on. And as we go even further, the fires disappear from one property to the next. It's like we're entering a new movie. This one is called riot. Windows are smashed, walls are smeared, cars are dented. Some houses have been looted and a variety of items from gold chandeliers to stuffed animals to entire wardrobes can be found lying around in front yards, on sidewalks and on streets. I walk past a half-burnt diamond-encrusted evening dress, knowing full well that it cost more than a family in the Districts earns in a lifetime.

Anti-Capitol graffiti follows us to the doorstep of Caius's house. The word villa fits better. My parents' property is large and yet it doesn't come close to this one. And in direct comparison to the buildings of the big incumbents, this is only one of the smaller buildings in the district. Caius was part of the government, but not active in Snow's circles. As far as I know, he didn't even know the president personally. Will that save his head?

The front yard is properly gardened, which gives me hope. I bend down on my knees and reach for one of the many pieces of jewelry scattered on the grass. A gold earring set with sapphires. I don't recognize it, but it suits Aurelia's taste. My eyes slide to the shattered windows and I feel the familiar fear spreading through my limbs. I press my lips together and try to keep my breathing even as my parents' panicked faces crowd into my vision.

I force myself to get up from the floor and stare at the doorbell, which has Caius's family name written above it in gold letters. Canville. I hope with every fiber of my being that this name saved my sister's life.

The villa is destroyed down to the last room. I've been here enough times to be sure that most of the valuable exhibits have been stolen. Possible that the Rebels just confiscated them specifically. Just like in my parents' house, I come across some family photos. Aurelia had a soft spot for them and hung every single one we had made over the years somewhere, while I usually had my copy disappear into some box. Many of the pictures are lying all over the rooms, with broken glasses and shattered frames. I wonder if the rioters might have recognized Caius or me directly from the pictures, or if they simply contributed to their destruction for no deeper reason. We aren't unknown faces in Panem. There are enough people who hate us.

The day is coming to an end and my hopes of finding a clue to Aurelia's whereabouts are dwindling. Caius's estate is as impersonal as my parents', offering no clues other than the obvious devastation. Whoever looted here made it impossible for me to say what might have been out of place before.

We visit the central rescue stations for refugees in the surrounding areas, show the helpers and Rebels pictures of Aurelia, but no one here has seen her. Nobody knows anything. Nobody can help me. Given the sheer number of refugees, it's like looking for a needle in a haystack. In the car on the way back, Haymitch's arm around my shoulder is all that keeps me from screaming. I'm frustrated, but even deeper, I'm afraid. A fear that has taken root since my parents were executed. A fear of being left alone in this destroyed world after everything I've been through. Just the thought that all three of them might be dead makes the breath catch in my lungs and my stomach clench.

My condition has worsened since I returned to the Capitol. The panic attacks are worse, as are the nightmares. The panic that I thought was under control for so long keeps burrowing its way to the surface, turning the simplest tasks into torture. Johanna feels the same way. Her outbursts of anger have reached new levels and even though she, too, lives in the presidential palace, doctors have to sideline her every two days to protect her and others.

Of course, we know what it's due to. The Capitol brings back so many negative memories that are tied to even more negative emotions. The images of the Quarter Quell are suddenly almost as clear as they were before my time in prison, although I could hardly remember them for a long time afterwards. Not to mention the months I was incarcerated. It's the simplest things that set me back.

It's the presidential palace itself that makes my limbs tremble. When we arrived at the Capitol a week ago, they drove us into the city in a car similar to this one. I thought I'd be happy to be back. I wasn't prepared for the horror, for the panic. Driving down this road for the first time took me back in time.
For a long minute, I felt again like a dolled-up prisoner being driven by Peacekeepers to the TV studio to watch her parents die. But then the car changed course and the presidential palace came into view in the distance and all I could see was Peeta's blood on the tiles after he warned District 13 about the bombs.

The last week has been a complete roller coaster ride. Not just for me, but for all of Panem. President Snow has been removed from power and the Rebellion has triumphed. There is no less chaos than before. Nobody knows what will happen next. People are afraid, food is becoming scarce, and the victims of the war have still not been determined. New messages are constantly coming in from everywhere. President Coin has announced numerous executions for the next few weeks, starting with Snow's. New elections will take place in the spring in which everyone in Panem can take part. Everything seems to be moving on in some new way, but it doesn't feel that way.

Finnick is dead. Primrose is dead because the Rebels are no better than the Capitol. I don't even want to think about who we're letting into power here. Katniss was so badly injured that she was confined to the hospital bed again. Her mother looks after her as best she can, but doesn't seem to be really present most of the time. Peeta and Annie are being treated by psychologists because they are dealing with the war and the Capitol even worse than Johanna and I. It's almost ironic that suddenly it's Haymitch holding the fort while the rest of us seem lost, when it's been the other way around all these years. I feel bad for not being able to control my emotions and leaving him to take care of Katniss and Peeta. I do my best, even if most of the time I just sit on Katniss's bed and stare into space.

"Are you sure you want to see him?" Haymitch murmurs in my ear. The blanket rustles as he pulls me closer against his chest. His fingers trace unrecognizable patterns on my back as he thinks.

"It's my only chance," I reply in a muffled voice and press my lips against the hem of his shirt. I wonder how many hours we've been laying in bed worrying about this. "Coin would never allow him to be brought here. Simply because it's me."

Haymitch stays quiet because he knows I'm telling the truth. He sighs and lowers his head to look into my eyes. His silver pupils flicker in dissatisfaction; frustrated. "I promised you that you would never have to see the inside of a prison again."

"It's not the same," I reply immediately, tracing his cheekbones with my fingers. "It's my own, free decision. There's more than one prison in the Capitol. Maybe they put him in another one."

"That doesn't make things any better, Effie." Haymitch sounds angry and dejected at the same time. "I mean ... I see the effect the city alone has on you. Just the thought of what they've been doing to ..." His voice breaks and he closes his eyes, presses his mouth together tightly, pushes his nose into the crook of my neck.

My throat tightens and I want nothing more than to burst into tears. Haymitch is right. Returning to this prison will bring back some very unpleasant memories. Images that I have closed and locked away deep within me. My hand trembles as it moves to the back of Haymitch's neck. The thought of coming back there, of walking through those corridors, makes me unable to breathe. I feel like I'm falling into a bottomless black hole that opens up in the middle of my stomach. Panic paralyzes my limbs. It's the same as it was back then.

I press my lips against Haymitch's cheek, the stubble of his beard poking against my skin. It doesn't bother me. Quite the opposite. It reminds me that I'm not alone. The smell of him in my nose is like an antidote to the fear in my body. It's not like it was back then. I'm not a prisoner and I'm not alone either. Haymitch's presence reminds me that there was someone outside the prison walls who was interested in my life. I cannot allow the fears the Capitol instilled in me to cause me to lose my last hope for my family. Not after what they did to my parents.

There is nothing more important in this world than your family, Euphemia. Never forget that.

I won't give up my family. I won't give up on Aurelia. Even if it means going back to the place that caused my scars.

The panic is so tangible, as if it were an actual thing you could hold in your hand. I press my lips harder against Haymitch's skin and make my decision. "It doesn't matter. We have tried everything. I don't have another choice. Caius is my last hope for answers."

oOo

I get out of the black car and stand rooted to the side of the road as I look at the building where I was declared a traitor and locked away after the Quarter Quell. The banners with the Capitol coat of arms are gone. Instead, the Rebels' gray flags hang there. Only the flag of Panem remains.

My hesitation is the only emotion I allow myself before I force my features into a rigid neutrality. This is my prison. Haymitch searches my gaze and when he sees no signs of panic there, the tension falls away a little. He doesn't know that this is my prison. How would he even know? I don't think I can keep it together if I tell him the truth. Saying things out loud doesn't make them better or less bad. Actually, they just make them more ubiquitous and I can't use that right now.

So we march forward, Haymitch's presence at my side giving me the support I need to breathe evenly. My legs are shaking. Dots dance at the edge of my vision. I force Aurelia's face into my mind and keep walking.

Most of the Peacekeepers have been replaced by Rebel soldiers, but the atmosphere remains the same. Haymitch registers us and depicts our plan. The man in charge searches his computer, nods and then waves two soldiers over to show us the way. We take the same elevator that I took on my very first visit. My eyes are fixated on the screen showing the level we are on. The lift starts moving and we go down, down into the depths. I feel like I'm losing consciousness. Haymitch squeezes my hand, unsuspecting.

When we get out we are not as deep in the ground as my cell was. Still, the corridors look identical. Still, the doors look identical. The trembling in my legs increases with every step, I feel the sweat on the back of my neck, and I wonder how they all can't notice the harmful energy emanating from this place.

The soldier opens a door and asks us to go inside. I hesitate. The last time I entered a room like this, things didn't end well for me. Haymitch puts his hand on my back and gives me the time I need. The room is square and contains no more than a table and several chairs. Not a cell, but an interrogation room. It doesn't get any easier for me to breathe.

Only now do I notice the figure sitting behind the table, looking at us with brown eyes. Adrian? No, Caius. Relief courses through my veins. He looks exactly as I remember him. Short umber brown hair, dark syrup eyes, attractive facial features. But the look in his eyes is empty and his face is rigid. He's a tall man, taller than Haymitch, and even when he's sitting down you can tell by his straight, immaculate posture. Like all other politicians, he was arrested when the Capitol fell. Since then, he spends his time in a cell that must be similar to my own. The sight of him sends an electric pulse through my body. He is everything that still connects me to my old life at this point. There's nothing left but him. No one but him can give me the answers I'm looking for.

I approach the table with careful steps and then sit in the chair opposite him. Haymitch stands behind me. "Hello, Caius."

Caius awakens from his passivity, but takes his time before he begins to speak. He looks at me intently, every fiber of my body, then his gaze moves to Haymitch and slides back to me. "Wow, Effie, I would hardly have recognized you without all that makeup," Caius says and gives me a wicked smile. "I would claim it's nice to see you, Effie, but since I know about your betrayal, that would probably be a lie."

"Since you're the one sitting in jail, you're probably the traitor. See how the tide is turning." Caius and I have never liked each other much. We tolerated each other because he is my sister's husband and I am his wife's sister, but we aren't friends.

"I don't suppose you're here because of me, dearest?" Caius's lips curl into his trademark winning grin. He's used to playing with people. He was the charmer at every event, whether professional or private. I don't know anyone who could wrap women around his finger like he did; with alcohol and money alike. His wild, captivating manner is well known to those who know him better. When it comes to passion and fun, Caius knows no limits. Not even with his wife's family. My mother was happy to overlook these things. My father never commented on it; he was always too busy. I've seen his games often enough and experienced them first hand.

"I'm here because of Aurelia," I say firmly.

Something on Caius's face changes. A flicker of emotion that raises the hairs on the back of my neck. His clouded eyes drop to the table and the grin that was just playing on his lips disappears into an expression that I can barely interpret. "I'm not surprised," Caius finally admits after a minute of silence that feels like an eternity. His voice sounds ... remorseful. I feel the ground collapse beneath me.

"Caius." My voice trembles. "Tell me what happend."

Caius sighs, massages his temples for a moment and then looks me straight in the eyes; waiting for me to look away first. But I don't let his gaze intimidate me. The expression in his pupils is sober and self-controlled. He has changed his role. Caius Canville, the politician, is now sitting in front of me.

"I'll be honest with you, Effie," Caius begins, our eyes still locked. It makes me uncomfortable and feels incredibly intimate. "Our past hasn't always been ... pleasant. I know you think the worst of me. You're probably right about most of it. I'm neither an honest public servant nor a faithful husband. I am who I am, but that doesn't mean Aurelia means nothing to me."

"Didn't you just say that you wanted to be honest?" I reply, twisting my mouth. "If Aurelia meant anything to you, you wouldn't have been unfaithful in the first place."

Caius narrows his eyes and tilts his head to the side. "Are you sure you want to bring this discussion up again?"

"I wouldn't have to bring it up again and again if you could just act like a decent gentleman for once," I retort, feeling thrown back in time again. When Caius wasn't busy with his political duties, he liked to hang out at similar parties as I did. Especially during the Hunger Games, we ran into each other almost every day. Caius is the kind of man who would describe himself as a playboy. He parties, drinks and enjoys the company of a wide variety of women. "I didn't come back to this shithole to talk to you about your misdeeds."

Caius grins cockily and has the audacity to wink at me. "My goodness, dearest, since when have you become so vulgar? The last time I saw you, you seemed to be in significantly better condition. What have those rebels done to you?"

I feel the thread of patience in me threatening to break. I have to lace my fingers together to hide their tremor. Caius's words hit me where it hurts and I'm not even sure he's aware of it. I feel Haymitch move behind my back and fall into the chair next to me. A quick sideways glance is all it takes to make sure that Caius's attitude upsets him.

"Now what about Aurelia?" I ask instead and my fingers start to itch.

Caius's face darkens. "As I said, I'm aware of my mistakes, but I am who I am. Aurelia still means a lot to me." He pauses and fixes his brown pupils on me again. He completely ignores Haymitch. "It was clear weeks ago that we were losing the war. I still own an apartment near the Inner Circle. You can't get in there just by kicking in the door."

I feel a wave of relief rush through me. "So, she's there?" Caius nods and I allow myself to take a deep, free breath. She lives. Aurelia is alive. She is safe. Tears form in the corners of my eyes and I find it difficult to hold them back.

"You've changed so much, Effie," Caius says, and his distant , distorted voice makes me look up. "You've always been different from Aurelia, always more independent and cleverer, but I never thought you'd turn into such a risk. I thought you were smarter than getting yourself involved in such a story."

"What are you talking about?"

"All these years, you despised me because, in your eyes, I couldn't live up to Aurelia. Yet, it's solely my merit that she's still alive now." Annoyance and indignation are reflected in Caius's self-righteous face, which has a hint of honest irritation on it. "You're a hypocrite to show up here after everything you've done. After everything Aurelia has endured because of you!"

I stare at Caius, unable to say anything back; forget my fear for a moment. I feel like I'm falling out of the sky.

"Do you know what a slaughterhouse the Capitol turned into after the Rebels all disappeared to District Thirteen? Anyone even remotely related to any rebel was on the death list. I had a damn hard time keeping Aurelia alive. And now you show up here, worried about her?! As if the last few months never happened at all?"

"Do you think I chose to be labeled a rebel by the Capitol? Do you really think I was involved in anything? They targeted me the same way they targeted all the other employees from the Games. They accused me of rebellion simply because I was Katniss's escort!" My voice is shaking with anger and I stand up from my chair, putting my hands on the table. Hot anger shoots through my veins and I struggle not to scream at him.

Caius looks at me as if he was seeing me for the first time. My anger is reflected in his eyes and it surprises me. I've never seen him so mad. No matter what, there was never a situation where he didn't handle things with his twisted sense of humor or skillful manner. This is new. "You ruined Aurelia's life. If you hadn't gotten involved with someone as idiotic as a ..." He pauses, acknowledging Haymitch's presence for the first time. "... District citizen, then your parents would still be alive now. Do their lives mean nothing to you? How could you have just turned your back on them?"

My palm hits Caius's face before he can even finish his sentence. Caius makes a startled sound and jumps back in his chair. Haymitch grabs my arm and yanks me away from the table, but his grip is not tight and the pain in my body is boiling so violently that I pull away from him without hesitation. "You have no idea what you're talking about," I shout at Caius, my voice so loud, so firm, so full of hate and sadness and torment that I almost lose myself in the emotions. Caius's eyes widen because he doesn't know this new side of me. "Do you think I turned my back on my family voluntarily? Do you really think I'm a rebel? Then why didn't the Rebels take me with them to District Thirteen? I was here, right here." I point my finger at the floor. "In this horrible prison because they wanted information that I didn't have because I've never been involved in anything. They starved me, beat me, abused me, even though they knew I wasn't a rebel."

The cell is dead quiet. Caius sits up in his chair, holding onto the edge of the table and pressing his other hand flat against his cheek. He shakes his head vehemently. "You're lying," he says, but his voice wavers. "They told me about the trial. They showed me evidence that you were involved in everything. They told me you confessed in custody."

A laugh escapes my throat, and it sounds so much like the Effie Trinket this place turned me into that the memory sends tears streaming down my cheeks. "They would have told you anything. What else could they have told you? That they are imprisoning me wrongfully? This is the Capitol, Caius. You of all people should know how things are done here!"

"It all made sense," Caius murmurs, unable to look me in the eyes for the first time. He fell for the Capitol's propaganda and didn't realize it the whole time. He looks dejected. "Your sadness at the Reaping. The golden tokens. The romance with him." He nods in Haymitch's direction. "Your mother told us how you brought him to your brunch. I thought if he was involved, you would be too." Caius looks up and now gives Haymitch a calculating, accusatory look. "I thought he was going to take you with him."

Instead of answering, I fold my arms over my chest and try to control my stomach, which is shifting uncomfortably. Haymitch comes to my side but doesn't dare to touch me. I shake off the dark thoughts and focus on my task. "Where is this apartment?"

Caius gives me the address and further details without hesitation. Shortly afterwards, the soldiers enter the interrogation cell, force Caius to his feet and handcuff him. Our eyes meet again across the table. Something changed between us, like it finally clicked.

"I hope they don't do to you what your President had done to me here," I say with no sympathy in my voice.

The soldiers start moving, Caius in their midst. The fear on his face when he finally understands is the last thing I see of him.

As soon as the door closes behind them, Haymitch comes into my field of vision, his hands around my waist. From one moment to the next, we are so close that my heart jumps in shock. "Why didn't you say anything?" He sounds accusatory and disturbed at the same time, looking in my eyes for the confirmation that he has long had.

I shrug and look up at his face. I feel vulnerable and weak and small. "I didn't know how."

Haymitch's arms wrap around my back. "You're shaking," he states, pressing me harder against his chest. Almost absently, a hand wanders up to my head, and he strokes my hair comfortingly. He's never been good at comforting others, but I know what his gesture is supposed to say and that's enough.

"This place awakens old demons." That's all it takes. Of course, Haymitch knows what I mean. Closing your eyes means surrendering to the images of past torments. It means actively remembering.

For a moment, I have to hold on to Haymitch so as not to lose my footing. We're so far from the surface, so deep in the earth, so close to the center of my trauma that I can hardly breathe. My heart is racing so fast that all I can hear is the rushing of blood in my ears.

Still, it wasn't a mistake to come back here. Aurelia is alive. She's alive and well, at least according to Caius. After months of uncertainty and doubt, I cannot express how happy I am. Tears of relief stream down my cheeks and it's only now that I realize that I've started sobbing.

"Come on, Princess," Haymitch murmurs, briefly pressing his lips against my hair. "Let's get out of here."

-

First, I want to apologize to everyone who thought this story was ending with the last chapter due to the chapter-title. I'm so sorry guys haha, I didn't think anyone would interpret it like that. The title was refering to the end of the war lol. Some of your comments were pretty funny to read. xD

Effie is back in her prison, but Aurelia is alive. What do you think of Caius? Take a look at my Pinterest page (ccskyllen) if you want to see how I envision him! For all the people interested, he will also play a small role in my prequel-fanfic "An Era Awakens" which I will start uploading as soon as "Figure It Out" ends! I'm looking forward to your thoughts! :)

Skyllen