·········

𝘕ʉ𝘮ʉ 𝘛𝘦𝘬𝘸𝘢𝘱ʉ - 𝘗𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦

ˋ°•*⁀➷

Thalia couldn't sleep. How could she? Finnian had come into her room earlier, his eyes glistening with tears that he tried to blink away. He hadn't said much, but he didn't need to. She had opened her arms, and he had curled up beside her like he used to when they were little.

Now, he was fast asleep, his breathing soft and even. Thalia's fingers brushed through his dark hair, smoothing the messy strands as she stared at the ceiling. Her mind wouldn't stop racing. Images of the reaping, the train, and everything Reed had said played over and over in her head.

She tried to focus on Finnian instead, on the way his face softened in sleep. For just a moment, he didn't look scared or sad. He looked like the little boy he used to be, the one who chased their mutt around the yard and begged her to tell him stories before bed.

But even that memory couldn't calm her. The Capitol wanted them dead, and Reed's words kept echoing in her mind. She swallowed hard, forcing back the lump rising in her throat. If she cried now, it might wake him.

Quietly, she slipped out of the bed, pulling the blanket up over Finnian's shoulders. Her bare feet padded across the carpeted floor of the train as she made her way toward the dining car. Maybe a drink of water or milk would help. Maybe not.

Thalia wasn't sure what she was looking for, but anything was better than sitting there and waiting for the morning.

The girl then sat alone in the dining car, her hands wrapped around a glass of milk. It was cold against her palms, but she barely noticed. Her eyes were fixed on the polished table, but her mind was far away, back in District 10.

She thought about the funerals. Big songs and dances to honor the dead, the music carrying the memories of the person through the air. Drinks would be made, each one crafted to reflect the person's life. Sweet, bitter, strong, each sip a reminder of who they were. 

Families would fill boards with notes, stories, and pictures. It was their way of keeping someone alive, even after they were gone.

And then there were the gravestones. Handmade leather, painted with cowprint and covered in stories. The best craftsman in the district would pour hours into each one. Every name, every memory stitched and burned into the leather. It was their way of saying, "You mattered. You'll never be forgotten."

Thalia's throat tightened as she pictured it. Her gravestone. Her name surrounded by stories that Finnian might write, if he lived. She didn't want to think about what they would say about her. How could you sum up a whole life in a few words?

She tried to shake the thought, but it lingered like a shadow. Soon, she would be another leather grave. Another name in District 10's history. Her heart felt heavy, but she clenched her jaw and swallowed hard.

Not yet. She wasn't ready to be just a memory. Not when Finnian still needed her.

Thalia heard footsteps behind her but didn't turn. She already knew who it was. Reed stepped into the dining car, his movements slow and heavy like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. He didn't say anything at first, just walked to the cabinet and grabbed a glass.

She watched out of the corner of her eye as he poured himself some whiskey. The amber liquid swirled in the glass as he lifted it, taking a long sip before setting it down with a soft clink.

"You're up late," he said, his voice rough from sleep or maybe from drinking.

Thalia didn't answer right away. She stared at her milk, the silence stretching between them like a thick fog.

"So are you," she finally replied, her voice quiet.

Reed smirked, though it didn't reach his eyes. "Fair enough," he said, leaning against the counter. He looked at her for a moment, his gaze sharp but tired. "Couldn't sleep?"

She shook her head, her fingers tightening around the glass. "No," she admitted.

Reed nodded, taking another sip of his drink. "Figured," he said. "Big days like this'll do that to you." Reed took another sip of whiskey, his gaze flickering to Thalia like she was some puzzle he didn't have the energy to figure out. "So, what is it? Nightmares already?" he asked, his tone flat.

Thalia shook her head, still staring at her half-empty glass of milk. "Just thinking," she said simply.

"Thinking, huh?" Reed let out a low chuckle, though it held no humor. "Dangerous thing for a tribute to do."

Thalia glanced up at him, her expression guarded. "I don't have a choice," she replied. "Not if I want to get Finnian through this."

Reed raised an eyebrow, his lips curving into a slight smirk. "Get him through this?" he repeated. "That's a nice thought, you're really sticking to the whole sacrifice yourself for him thing, right? Noble big sister act."

Her jaw tightened, but she didn't rise to the bait. "I told you already. I'll do whatever it takes," she said quietly, her voice steady.

Reed snorted, setting his glass down a little harder than necessary. "Whatever it takes. Sure," he muttered. "You don't get it yet, do you? The Capitol doesn't care about your plans. They don't care about your brother or your sacrifice or any of it. They just want a good show."

Thalia's fingers curled around her glass. "Then I'll give them a show," she said firmly.

Reed tilted his head, studying her. "And what happens when the show ends?" he asked, his voice softer now but no less sharp. "What happens when there's only one of you left? You think Finnian's gonna thank you for that?"

Thalia didn't answer. She couldn't.

Reed sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "Look, kid, I've seen this story play out too many times. You can't save him, not the way you think you can. Best you can do is teach him how to survive a little longer. Maybe that's enough. Maybe it's not."

Thalia's throat tightened, but she refused to let him see her falter. "I have to try," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Reed didn't respond right away. He just picked up his glass, draining the rest of his whiskey in one long gulp. "Suit yourself," he said, turning away. "But don't say I didn't warn you."

He walked out of the car without another word, leaving Thalia alone with her thoughts and the faint clink of his empty glass on the counter.

ˋ°•*⁀➷

"The Sacrifice! Oh my... I love it!"

Thalia managed to get some rest, though it was restless and broken. Both she and Finnian were awoken by the sharp sound of squeals echoing down the train cart. Thalia had no other way to describe it than a pig being slaughtered.

The two tributes exchanged a confused glance before climbing out of their bunks and making their way toward the noise. As they approached the source, they found it wasn't a dying pig at all - it was Lucian.

He was seated in front of a large screen, his face glowing with excitement. For a moment, Thalia was sure there were tears in his eyes as he clutched his hands together, staring at the television. She recognized the device from the yearly broadcasts of the Hunger Games, though it had been a rare sight in District 10.

When Lucian noticed them, he shot up and pulled Thalia into an enthusiastic hug. "Isn't this so exciting?" he exclaimed, practically bouncing on his feet.

Thalia and Finnian shared another confused look. "What... is?" Thalia asked carefully, unsure if she even wanted the answer.

Lucian spun back toward the screen, pointing at it dramatically. "The Shepherd! The Guardian! The Iron Sister!" he exclaimed, his voice filled with awe. "I love them all! But oh, the Sacrifice... another level! I can't handle it!"

Thalia blinked at him, utterly baffled. "What are you talking about?"

Lucian waved her and Finnian over, gesturing for them to sit on the couch. "Come here! You have to see this," he said, grabbing the remote and rewinding the screen slightly.

Reluctantly, Thalia and Finnian sat down, their eyes drawn to the glowing screen. The device flickered for a moment before a bright, gleaming image appeared.

There he was, Caesar Flickerman. His hair was puffed up in a ridiculous blue swirl, and his white teeth gleamed as he grinned wide for the camera. He was excited, practically buzzing with energy. But Caesar always was, at least on screen.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" Caesar said, his voice full of cheer as he gestured wildly. "We have witnessed something truly unforgettable today. Oh, it gave me chills!"

Next to him, Claudius Templesmith leaned forward, his expression eager. "Caesar, you have to show it again. The people deserve to see it one more time!"

Thalia felt her stomach twist. She had a bad feeling about this.

Caesar laughed, his white teeth flashing again. "Oh, how could I deny them? Let's roll the clip, folks!"

The screen shifted, showing the town square of District 10. Thalia's heart sank as the familiar sight filled the screen. It was their reaping.

She recognized the worn-down platform, the rows of children standing nervously in front of it, the way the hot sun seemed to make everything sharper and more unbearable.

And then she saw herself.

The screen showed Finnian's name being called. The boy stepping forward, his shoulders shaking as he tried to hold back tears.

And then her voice rang out.

"I volunteer! I volunteer as tribute!"

Thalia watched herself push through the crowd, her face pale but determined. She felt her chest tighten as the memory came flooding back, sharp and raw.

"That," Caesar's voice echoed as the clip ended, "is what I call a sacrifice!"

Claudius leaned in closer to Caesar, squinting at the screen. "What is this...?" he muttered, more to himself than anyone else. "Is that... face paint? A new trend, perhaps?"

Caesar chuckled, looking at the screen with a raised eyebrow. "Oh, it seems so! A bit... unusual, don't you think? But maybe that's what 10 likes, something fresh, something different!"

Thalia's stomach churned. The Capitol didn't understand it, didn't get it. They never would. She could feel their eyes on her, their judgment, their fascination with every detail, including something as simple as her face. 

All the tributes were like artifacts to them, carefully examined and picked apart for entertainment. It was beyond insane.

She remembered only years ago, the victor of the 70th Hunger Games, Annie Cresta. The girl had bright orange hair, a unique, fiery shade that seemed to glow under the arena lights. As soon as she won, the majority of the Capitol rushed to dye their hair the exact same color, as though copying her would bring them closer to her.

They didn't care about what she had been through, the horrors she survived, they just wanted to mimic her look, to claim a part of her for themselves.

Thalia shuddered at the thought. Would they do the same to her? Would they take something, anything, that made her even slightly unique and turn it into the next big Capitol craze? It was horrifying to think she might become their next object of obsession, even as she fought for her life.

"Well, it certainly makes her stand out," Caesar said, grinning again, his teeth impossibly bright against the blue puff of his hair. "And stand out she most certainly does! The sacrifice of district 10!"

Lucian's face lit up again as he looked at Thalia. "You're famous already! Isn't it incredible?"

But Thalia couldn't answer. She just stared at the screen, her hands clenched tightly in her lap.

Thalia turned to Lucian, her voice quiet. "Is that... is that the name they gave me? The Sacrifice?"

Lucian's face lit up, and he nodded eagerly. "Yes! Isn't it marvelous? It's perfect, really. You gave yourself up for your brother. The Capitol loves things like that. It makes you memorable!"

Thalia looked back at the screen, her stomach sinking. She already knew she was not going to win. She had known it from the moment she stepped forward and volunteered.

But hearing it out loud, hearing that name, made it feel real.

A sacrifice.

That was what she was.

The girl of only 15 would be dead in a weeks time.

Lucian didn't seem to notice the way Thalia's hands clenched in her lap or how her breathing grew uneven. He was too busy rambling, his voice full of excitement. "As soon as I saw the two of you walk onto that stage, I knew you were different. Special. This year's tributes from Ten are going to make waves, I just know it. So much better than last year's mess."

Thalia's stomach twisted at his words. She remembered last year's tributes too well.

The boy, Talon, was older, around seventeen. He had tried to end his own life in the training center, unable to bear the thought of the arena. When the Games began, it was no surprise he was one of the first to die, killed within minutes.

The girl, Sable, was even younger than Thalia. Only thirteen. Frail and quiet, she came from the poorest part of District 10. Thalia could still picture the moment the Careers caught her. They hadn't just killed her, they'd mutilated her, turning her death into a show for the Capitol's amusement.

Thalia swallowed hard, her throat dry. She didn't want to end up like them.

But she knew better.

The odds were never in her favor.

Reed's voice broke through the sound of Lucian's excited chatter, gruff and low. "What in the hell is with all the squealing? Thought there was a damn pig on this train."

Thalia turned her head to see him shuffling into the cart, his hair sticking out in odd directions like he had just rolled out of bed. His eyes were heavy-lidded, his expression sour. He scratched at his stubbled jaw and muttered something under his breath before slumping into a chair nearby.

Lucian barely missed a beat, beaming as he turned to Reed. "Oh, you missed it! Thalia's got a name now. The Sacrifice!" He gestured grandly toward the screen, where the paused image of Thalia volunteering for Finnian still lingered.

Reed's eyes flickered to the screen, then to Thalia. For a moment, something softened in his gaze, something that almost looked like pity. But it was gone as quickly as it came, replaced by his usual hardened mask.

"Well," he said, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms across his chest. "Congratulations. Got yourself a name. Bet the Capitol's eating it up."

Thalia didn't respond. She just stared at him, her stomach twisting as her fingers gripped the fabric of her skirt. Reed's words felt more like a reminder than a compliment. A reminder of what she had signed up for. What she had given up.

She was The Sacrifice.

Finnian's voice was quiet, barely above a whisper. "Did... did they show any other districts?"

His question caught Thalia off guard. She glanced at him, his wide eyes full of worry. In that moment, she realized that the name she had been given didn't matter. She would sacrifice herself for him, again and again, no matter what.

Reed's voice cut through her thoughts. "Your sister wanted training to start right away, right? Guess we can get that started now." He grabbed the remote from Lucian's hand, ignoring the man's protest, and rewound the television.

The screen flickered back to life, and Reed's voice grew quieter, almost businesslike. "Let's see what else they've got. Might as well get you prepared."

Thalia barely heard him as she stared at Finnian, his soft question still echoing in her mind. He had no idea what was coming, and she couldn't protect him from it. But god, she would try her hardest.

Reed settled back into his seat, taking a long gulp from his glass, his eyes flickering between the screen and the two children.

"The Careers are first up," he said, his voice low and serious. "You've got six from the big districts, and three of them volunteered for the Games. They do it for honor, for the prestige. So, avoid them. Trust me."

Thalia nodded but couldn't help the tight feeling in her chest as the names appeared on the screen. Lyric Crest and Alaric Vale from District One were already on display, both smiling confidently as if they knew the victory was already theirs. They always did, didn't they?

District Two's pair appeared next, and Thalia felt a shiver down her spine. Thyra Talon and Ryland Bracken, cold and calculating, their eyes already locking onto the screen, sizing up their competition. Thalia swallowed hard, her fingers curling around the seat's edge.

"And from Four, Nova Crayton and Dune Castor," Reed continued, almost as if reading her thoughts. "They're no joke either."

Thalia's mind flashed back to what she knew about the Careers. The training they'd received, the relentless preparation that had started before they could even walk. They were the most vicious, the most dangerous. They usually won. It was rare for anyone else to even make it out alive.

Reed's voice broke through her thoughts. "Stay away from them. They've been training for these Games for as long as they could. They're dangerous. You two don't stand a chance if you get too close."

Thalia glanced at Finnian, who was watching the screen with wide eyes. He didn't fully understand what Reed meant, not yet. But she did.

Thalia's hand clenched into a fist. "Isn't that illegal?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

Reed shrugged nonchalantly, his eyes flicking toward her. "Capitol's favorites get a free pass. No rules for them." He paused for a moment, taking another sip. "They'll kill anyone in their way."

Thalia turned her gaze back to the screen. The Games weren't just a fight to survive. They were a fight to stay human. And for the Careers, that meant becoming something else entirely.

Reed continued, pointing to the next districts with a disinterested wave, his voice flat. "District Three, they're the tech experts. If it's anything mechanical or electronic, they're your people. If you're lucky, they'll build you a weapon. If not, they might use their tech to sabotage your chances." He clicked the remote, changing the screen again.

Thalia stared at the screen, each name, each face, each district feeling like a weight pressing against her chest. She didn't want to listen. She didn't want to hear about their skills, their strengths, their advantages.

Out of twenty-four children, only one could survive. And she wasn't going to be that one. Thalia knew that deep down. She had already decided. She had volunteered for Finnian, and that was the only reason she was still here. She had nothing else to fight for. She couldn't even fight for herself.

How had Reed done it?

Thalia shifted in her seat, glancing over at him as he spoke. He was so casual, so detached, his eyes almost hollow, like he had long since given up on any hope for the tributes he mentored. How could he stand there, year after year, knowing that two children, two innocent children, would be sent to their deaths in front of millions?

Not only that, but Reed had been a tribute himself. She had heard the whispers, the rumors, the stories of how he survived the Games. How many years had it been now? Twenty? How had he made it out?

Thalia's stomach turned at the thought of it. How could anyone bear to witness that? How could anyone go through it and still be standing there, mentoring new tributes as though it was just another day?

"District Five," Reed said, oblivious to Thalia's thoughts, his eyes still focused on the screen. "They have power. They're good with electricity, so you'll probably find a few useful things from them if you know how to look."

Thalia barely heard him. She couldn't stop thinking about what Reed had lived through. And the one question she couldn't shake: Why was he still here? Why hadn't he just... given up, like so many others? How had he kept going?

"District Six," Reed droned on, "they're transportation. They'll know how to handle vehicles, how to make quick escapes. But they're not fighters. So don't expect too much from them."

But Thalia wasn't paying attention. Her mind was too busy swirling with the thoughts of all the people she'd never meet, those who had been sent to the Games before her, those who had volunteered, those who had fought, and those who had died.

And it wasn't just their lives that were lost. It was something else. Something Reed had probably forgotten long ago: their humanity.

Thalia knew no victor had ever gotten that back.

Finnian's hand then moved to hers, his sweaty palm gripping onto her like a lifeline. Her eyes flickered over to the 12 year old, watching as he stared at the screen, every now and then gulping. 

It was unfair, all of it. He was a boy, a literal boy. How could the Capitol cheer as they watched him take his place on that stage, but on top of that, they would bet.

Thalia had heard about the betting process that took place right before training. The Capitol would place bets on everything, who they thought would survive the longest, who was most likely to form alliances, who would make the most dramatic exit. 

They even bet on things like who would be the first to kill, or who might get a sponsorship. The odds were calculated for each tribute, a number that would tell everyone how much faith they had in a tribute's chances of surviving.

Thalia hated it. The thought of her life being reduced to odds on a screen, to a mere game for the Capitol to gamble on, made her sick. She wasn't a person to them. She was a number, an object to bet on. No different than an animal, or a pawn in some sick game.

And Finnian, her innocent little brother, was just as much a target. The Capitol didn't care that he was twelve. They would bet on his odds too, judging him based on his age, his size, his ability to make alliances. They'd make bets on how long he'd last, if he'd survive the first night, if he'd find a way to make it through the arena.

It made Thalia sick to think about it, how the Capitol would own their lives like that, turning them into entertainment, into something to be traded and gambled on. They were nothing but a show for the Capitol.

Finnian's grip tightened on her hand, his small fingers trembling. Thalia could feel his fear, his confusion. He didn't understand all of it yet, but Thalia did. She understood all too well. They were nothing but pawns in a sick, twisted game.

And once they were in the arena, once they were trapped with the other tributes, it would only get worse. They would be hunted, bet on, and watched until there was only one left. The Capitol wouldn't care how they survived. They wouldn't care about the lives lost, the pain, the fear. They just cared about the show.

Thalia squeezed Finnian's hand, trying to offer him some comfort, though she knew it didn't matter. They were both already lost, already caught in the Capitol's web.

Reed's voice snapped Thalia out of her thoughts. "Any questions?" he asked, his tone flat, as though he expected none.

She didn't respond, and neither did Finnian. The silence stretched between them, thick and uncomfortable. Finnian shifted beside her, his small throat bobbing as he gulped nervously.

Reed sighed, a deep, frustrated sound that made it clear he wasn't pleased. "You two need to get it together," he said, his voice more forceful now. "If you don't, you won't even make it off the train. The Capitol won't spare you a second thought. You'll face that crowd soon, and they'll eat you alive. You're already marked. So either you start acting like tributes or you'll be their entertainment for the next few weeks."

Thalia swallowed hard, the reality of his words sinking in. She could feel Finnian trembling next to her, and she couldn't blame him. She felt it too. But Reed was right. If they didn't start facing this, if they didn't start showing something the Capitol could latch onto, they might as well already be dead.

She took a shaky breath, trying to steady herself. She wasn't sure how she was supposed to do this, how she could survive being nothing more than a pawn in this sick game. But she knew one thing: she had to keep going, for Finnian's sake. If she could hold it together, just for him, maybe they'd make it through this.

But the thought of facing that crowd, of having them all watch, judge, and bet on her, made her feel sick to her stomach. She wasn't sure if she was ready.

ˋ°•*⁀➷