Sea of Flames | f. odair

CHAPTER 09 | THE ARENA

Cassia knew that after tomorrow, she wouldn't be the same person. It was inevitable. She's seen bit and pieces of various Games over the eighteen years she has lived. She saw the way tributes had to adapt to their surroundings; killing was one of the adaptions, one of the consequences of the Games.

"Will you be watching?" She couldn't help the words slip out. She didn't know why she said it, perhaps out of fear, to find some anchor of comfort in his presence.

A smile curved onto his face. "The world will be watching."

She snorted and rolled her eyes, "Very funny, Odair."

He laughed and then stood up, heading for her door. She watched him open the door and turn to leave, but he hesitated in the last second and faced her once more. She was struck by the intensity on his face, the grim line his mouth had formed compared to the fondness it held seconds ago, and the striking severity in his tone. "I'll be there with you every step of the way, Cassia. You'll never be alone in there, I promise."

She felt her eyes burn. "Goodnight, Finnick."

He gave her a sad smile. "Goodnight, Cassia." And then he was gone, leaving her to the torrent of her mind's nightmarish creations.

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She barely slept through the night, despite knowing she would need the rest. She watched the hazy sun rise over the grey buildings of the Capitol. Her bed felt empty even with her in it. She forced herself to move and get ready, there was no stopping the inevitable.

She was escorted by Rena to a hovercraft on the roof. She said her goodbyes to the teary-eyed woman and then was led onto the aircraft.

Sat inside were a few of the other tributes. Lark was nowhere to be seen. As she was getting strapped in, a man with a young face and white, almost translucent hair instructed her to hold out her arm. Before she took a breath, she was being injected by a thick needle. She gritted her teeth at the sudden pain and watched the needle withdraw from her forearm, a fresh tiny red bump now bruising her skin. What the fuck? She inspected the thing now residing within her.

"It's a tracker," a girl next to her said. She looked like she was from District Eleven with her ebony skin and wide, chestnut brown eyes. Her hair was buzzed down to her scalp, accentuating her long thin neck and high cheekbones. Cassia's face was like looking at a dead flower compared to the unique beauty of the girl.

She grunted, glaring at the bump. She didn't want to appear weak next to someone that might try to kill her, so she decided to play the ally card—she could do with as many allies as possible, ignoring the fact that any type of relationship in the arena was an incredibly bad idea. "Hopefully that's all it does."

The girl smirked but said nothing.

Weird, Cassia thought as the hovercraft took them to the Launch Center. It was where they would wait with their stylists until being lifted up into the arena.

When Cassia was escorted to her room by Peacekeepers, Opal was waiting for her. She wore flowing red pants and a red tank top, her lifted features sharpened by the glittering silver eyeshadow on her eyelids. She warmly smiled at Cassia as the door closed, locking them into the room.

Even with the dull pain in her arm, there was no distracting her from the fear that seized her at the sound of the door locking behind her.

Opal met her halfway in a tight embrace, running a hand down the back of her head in comforting caresses. Cassia hadn't realized she was shaking until she was in the woman's sturdy arms.