𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐚 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬, 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐞 𝐚 𝐠𝐮𝐧 , finnick odair

𝗈𝗇𝖾. a deadly punch in the gut

Quietly closing the door, Nova made her way back to the living room where her mother sat in a plush brown leather armchair, a ball of light blue wool resting on her lap. Unlike her daughters' brown hair, Nova's mother had blond locks, now marked by streaks of gray. Her eyes shone with a bittersweet radiance, like freshly cut limes, and her plump lips were adorned with a rich red hue. There was something noble about her, and Nova could not help but think that she was the most beautiful woman she had ever seen— not just because she was her mother.

"Is Eryn asleep yet?"

Nova nodded and moved towards the kitchen. Her stomach growled. She hadn't eaten all day because she had been too busy unpacking her bag.

She had been at the Capitol all week. Professionally, if you want to call it that.

By no means she was there voluntarily. On the contrary, she loathed everything about the 'great' Capitol.

She despised the Capitol's disdainful talk about the districts, as they likened the people to dirty doormats, referring to them as "annoying ticks." Nova battled to maintain her composure, but it was a losing battle. President Snow had warned her of the consequences of even the slightest misstep, and she knew all too well how brutal he could be.

Oh, how she loathed that man. Everything that had gone wrong, every loss, every pain, lay at his feet. After all, he had created the Hunger Games, a twisted attempt at entertainment and control.

Nova's hand instinctively found its way beneath her shirt to touch the rough, raised skin of her belly, tracing the scar with cold fingertips. She shuddered as the memory of the Games flooded back to her.

It had been a living nightmare, and the scar would forever remind her of it. She was just a survivor, a mere chess piece in Snow's game.

The sound of the Anthem of Panem broke her from her reverie, and she turned to the television set on the marble floor. President Snow's image filled the screen, and the Capitol residents' raucous cheers filled the room.

Snow raised his arms, and the crowd fell silent. A slight smile played at the corners of his lips. "Ladies and gentlemen, this is the 75th year of The Hunger Games."

Another round of applause and cheers filled the room, and Snow waited patiently for it to die down.

"And it was written in the charter of The Games that every twenty-five years, there would be a Quarter Quell to keep fresh for each new generation the memory of those who died in the uprising against the Capitol. Each Quarter Quell is distinguished by Games of special significance. And now, on this, the 75th anniversary of our defeat of the rebellion, we celebrate the third Quarter Quell. As a reminder that even the strongest cannot overcome the power of the Capitol."

Nova leaned against the back of the leather chair, her arms resting on it, watching Snow intently. A menacing glint in his eyes sent shivers down her spine, and she began to fidget nervously.

"On this, third Quarter Quell Games, the male and female Tributes are to be reaped from the existing pool of victors in each district."

A gut-wrenching blow.

A sharp intake of breath.

It couldn't be true. It just couldn't be true. Snow had promised the victors a life free from the Games, yet here they were, forced to endure the nightmare once more.