୨୧ 𝐑𝐄𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐒 ୨୧
THE SATURDAY MORNING DAWNED WITH A SOLEM AIR AS SERAPHINA PREPARED FOR ARACHNE'S FUNERAL. The muted sunlight filtered through the Capitol's extravagant curtains, casting a soft glow in Seraphina's lavishly decorated room.
The air was filled with a mix of floral scents, as Capitol fashion dictated that even mourning attire had to be accompanied by a touch of luxury.
Seraphina stood before her ornate vanity, adorned with an array of beauty products and delicate trinkets.
The mirror reflected her poised figure as she meticulously selected an appropriate outfit for the occasion.
The mourning dress she chose was a masterpiece of Capitol fashion – elegant, yet subtly embellished with tasteful details to ensure she remained a vision of sophistication even in a somber setting.
Her fingers glided gracefully over the dress as she smoothed out imaginary creases.
Seraphina spared a moment to cast a critical eye at her reflection, ensuring that every strand of her impeccably styled hair fell into place.
She applied just the right amount of makeup to accentuate her features without overshadowing the solemnity of the event.
As the finishing touches fell into place, Seraphina took a deep breath, steeling herself for the emotional gravity of the day.
Despite the Capitol's penchant for extravagant displays, funerals were events that demanded a respectful demeanor, even from the Capitol Sweetheart.
With a final glance at the mirror, Seraphina left her room, ready to pay her respects to Arachne and navigate the delicate balance between mourning and the Capitol's ever-present allure.
Although it was Saturday, the entire student body reported to homeroom before they assembled on the front steps of the Academy, divided neatly and alphabetically by class.
Seraphina was placed just in between Festus and Felix along with their other fellow classmates that surrounded them.
Coriolanus, however, found himself in the front row with faculty and distinguished guests, first and foremost President Ravinstill— he was asked to sing the anthem which was why he wasn't with the rest of students.
Seraphina scanned the place and across the avenue, the temporary stands set up for the funeral procession quickly filled with mourners dressed in black, the one color everyone could be counted on to have, given the loss of loved ones during the war.
The Academy and the surrounding buildings were festooned with funereal banners and sported Capitol flags in every window.
Numerous cameras were positioned to record the event, and multiple Capitol TV reporters streamed live commentary.
Once the Academy clock struck nine, and the crowd fell silent. On cue, Coriolanus rose and walked to the podium.
As Coriolanus ascended the stage to fulfill the solemn duty of singing the anthem for Arachne's funeral, Seraphina's thoughts swirled in a delicate dance between admiration and sorrow.
She watched him with a keen gaze, appreciating the elegance of his movements and the controlled poise that he always carried, even in moments of emotional weight.
Gem of Panem,
Mighty city,
Through the ages, you shine anew
His singing was more like sustained talking than a melodic tour de force, but the song was not particularly challenging.
There was a unique quality to Coriolanus when he took the spotlight, a magnetic presence that captivated the audience, and Seraphina was not immune to his charm.
Despite the mourning atmosphere, there was a certain beauty in the way he expressed himself, a reminder of the Capitol's penchant for turning even grief into a curated performance.
However, beneath the surface of admiration, Seraphina felt a pang of sorrow for the loss of Arachne— even though she deserved it.
Her friend, despite their occasional clashes, had been a constant presence, a companion in the intricate web of Capitol politics.
The realization of her absence lingered, creating a somber backdrop to the graceful melody Coriolanus wove with his voice.
As the anthem echoed through the funeral hall, Seraphina couldn't help but wonder about the complex interplay of emotions within Coriolanus.
His rendition was undoubtedly captivating, yet she knew that behind the polished facade, he, too, grappled with the weight of loss.
It was a reminder that even in the Capitol's grandeur, grief touched every corner, and Seraphina found herself caught in the delicate dance between mourning and the captivating allure of Coriolanus Snow.
Once Coriolanus finished, he sat to generous applause and an approving nod from the president, who now took the podium.
"Two days ago, Arachne Crane's young and precious life was ended, and so we mourn another victim of the criminal rebellion that yet besieges us," the president intoned.
"Her death was as valiant as any on the battlefield, her loss more profound as we claim to be at peace. But no peace will exist while this disease eats away at all that is good and noble in our country. Today we honor her sacrifice with a reminder that while evil exists, it does not prevail. And once again, we bear witness as our great Capitol brings justice to Panem."
The drums began a slow, deep boom, and the crowd turned as the funeral procession rounded a corner onto the street.
Although not as wide as the Corso, Scholars Road easily held the honor guard of Peacekeepers, standing shoulder to shoulder, twenty wide and forty deep, that stepped in flawless uniformity to the rhythm of the drums.
All this for Arachne? Seraphina raised her eyebrow as she watched the procession.
Behind the Peacekeepers came a long flatbed truck with a crane affixed to it.
High in the air, the bullet-ridden body of the District 10 girl, Brandy, dangled from its hook.
Shackled to the truck bed, looking utterly filthy and defeated, were the remaining twenty-three tributes.
The length of their restraints made it impossible to stand, so they either crouched or sat on the bare metal floor.
This was just another chance to remind the districts that they were inferior and that there would be repercussions for their resistance.
The brutality of the Games, highlighted by the bullet-ridden body of Brandy, was a stark contrast to the polished façade of the Capitol.
The image of the defeated remaining tributes, shackled and filthy, served as a chilling testament to the brutal ordeal they were forced to endure.
Each tribute's expression of defeat and weariness was etched in Seraphina's mind, a poignant reminder of the cost of the Capitol's entertainment.
Deep within her, Seraphina felt a twinge of guilt, knowing that her role as a mentor contributed, indirectly, to the suffering of these tributes.
It was a somber acknowledgment that the elaborate games were not just a spectacle but a brutal reality for those on the receiving end.
The stark contrast between the opulence of the Capitol and the stark brutality of the Games weighed heavily on Seraphina's conscience, as she grappled with the complex emotions evoked by the procession before her.
Seraphina quietly watched as Dr. Gaul, who'd been sitting next to the president, approached the mic.
"Arachne Crane, we, your fellow citizens of Panem, vow that your death will not be in vain. When one of ours is hit, we hit back twice as hard. The Hunger Games will go forward, with more energy and commitment than ever before, as we add your name to the long list of the innocent who died defending a righteous and just land. Your friends, family, and fellow citizens salute you and dedicate the Tenth Hunger Games to your memory." She spoke with a stern and intelligent clarity.
A row of Peacekeepers in red sashes lifted their guns and sent several volleys over the procession, which then rolled down a few blocks and disappeared around a corner.
The atmosphere in the Academy's dining hall was hushed and somber, still lingering with the echoes of the recent funeral.
The tables were adorned with elegantly arranged flowers, a stark contrast to the heavy mood that hung in the air.
The subdued chatter of mentors and students filled the space, and the clinking of cutlery against porcelain plates provided a gentle background noise.
Seraphina and Coriolanus found themselves at a table set for mentors, a tableau of Capitol opulence with pristine tableware and elaborate centerpieces.
Despite the elegant surroundings, the weight of recent events cast a shadow over the luncheon. The muted conversations around them mirrored the collective mood of mourning and reflection.
As they took their seats, the air seemed charged with unspoken tension.
Seraphina, her Capitol Sweetheart persona impeccably intact, maintained a facade of composure, though her eyes betrayed a depth of emotion that transcended the Capitol's façade.
Coriolanus, too, carried an air of gravity, his usual confidence momentarily tempered by the recent loss and the growing complexities of the Games.
The luncheon, typically a display of Capitol extravagance, now unfolded against the backdrop of the tributes' suffering.
The contrast between the lavish setting and the grim reality of the arena added a layer of discomfort to the proceedings.
The clink of fine china and polite conversations underscored the surreal nature of Capitol life, where tragedy and luxury coexisted in an uneasy harmony.
As Seraphina and Coriolanus navigated the delicate dance of Capitol etiquette, the unspoken undercurrents of their thoughts and emotions set the tone for a luncheon that, despite the opulence, bore the weight of the Games' harsh truths.
As the luncheon was finishing up, Dean Highbottom gathered the twenty-two active mentors to inform them that not only were the Hunger Games still on, but they were supposed to be the most visible yet.
With this in mind, they were to escort their tributes on a tour of the arena that very afternoon.
It was to be aired live to the entire country, somehow driving home the resolution Dr. Gaul had made at the funeral.
The Head Gamemaker felt that separating the Capitol kids from the district ones suggested weakness as if they were too afraid of their enemies to be in their presence.
The tributes would be handcuffed but not fully shackled. The Peacekeepers' top sharpshooters would be among their guards, but the mentors were to be seen side by side with their charges.
Seraphina along with the other mentors piled into a few Academy vans and headed for the Capitol Arena, which had been built across the river to prevent crowds from swamping the downtown.
In its day, the huge, state-of-the-art amphitheater had been the site of many exciting sporting, entertainment, and military events.
High-profile executions of the enemy were staged there during the war, making it a target for the rebel bombers.
While the original structure stood, it was battered and unstable now, useful only as a venue for the Hunger Games.
The lush field of meticulously tended grass had died from neglect. It was riddled with bomb craters, with weeds providing the only greenery on the expanse of dirt.
Rubble from the explosions— chunks of metal and stone— lay everywhere, and the fifteen-foot wall that encircled the field was fissured and pockmarked from the shrapnel.
Each year, the tributes would be locked in with nothing but an arsenal of knives, swords, maces, and the like to facilitate the bloodshed while the audience watched from home.
At the end of the Games, the one who had managed to survive would be shipped back to their district, the bodies removed, the weapons collected, and the doors locked until the following year.
No maintenance. No cleanup. Wind and rain might wash away the bloodstains, but Capitol hands would not.
Professor Sickle, their chaperone for the outing, ordered the mentors to leave their belongings in the vans when they arrived.
As they stepped from the air-conditioning into the blazing sun, Seraphina saw the tributes standing in a line in handcuffs, heavily guarded by Peacekeepers.
The mentors were directed to take their places beside their respective tributes, who'd been lined up numerically, so Seraphina was near the end with Reaper who was glowering at the ground while Coriolanus was just right behind her with Lucy Gray.
The Peacekeepers removed the heavy bars from the entrance. The massive doors swung open, revealing a huge lobby lined with boarded-up booths and fly-specked posters advertising events from before the war.
Holding their formation, the kids followed the soldiers deep within to the far side of the lobby.
A bank of full-height turnstiles, each with three curved metal arms, stood covered in a thick layer of dust.
They required a Capitol token for admittance, the same one still used for the price of a trolley fare.
Peacekeepers posted at two turnstiles pumped tokens into the slots so each tribute and mentor could pass through simultaneously.
At each rotation, a cheerful voice piped, "Enjoy the show!"
Once Seraphina entered the turnstile along with Reaper by her side, she noticed that on the far side of the turnstiles, a squad of Peacekeepers marched into a passageway, guided only by the red glow of emergency lights on the floor.
On either side, smaller arches leading to different seating levels were marked.
The line of tributes and mentors fell into step, flanked by tight columns of Peacekeepers.
Seraphina surveyed the arena, looking for anything that might be an advantage for Reaper.
The high wall that enclosed the field, keeping the audience above the action, had some promise.
The damaged surface provided hand- and footholds, offering access to the seats for a nimble climber.
Several of the gates spaced symmetrically around the wall looked compromised as well, but as she was unsure what lay beyond in the tunnels, she thought those should be approached with caution.
Too easy to get trapped. The stands would definitely be her tribute's best bet if he could climb up.
Seraphina made mental notes for Reaper.
Seraphina's eyes focused and calculating, approached Reaper who remained silent and seemingly indifferent to her presence.
The weight of responsibility pressed on her shoulders as she began relaying crucial information for his survival in the arena.
"Reaper," she began, her tone authoritative yet laced with concern.
"Listen closely. The arena has potential advantages, and you need to use them wisely. The wall that encloses the field is your best shot. It's damaged, offering hand- and footholds. If you're nimble enough, you can climb it and access the stands. That's where you'll find safety."
She paused, searching his eyes for any sign of acknowledgment or understanding.
Reaper's silence remained unbroken, but Seraphina pressed on, determined to convey the urgency of her advice.
"The gates around the wall might look compromised, but be cautious. We don't know what's beyond them, and it's too risky to get trapped. Stick to the high ground, and if you need to move, do it discreetly. The stands will be your sanctuary if you can reach them."
Seraphina's gaze held a mix of sternness and genuine concern as she continued, "Remember, Reaper, survival is your goal. The Capitol loves a resilient tribute. If you play their game strategically, you might just make it through."
Reaper's impassive expression remained unchanged, leaving Seraphina uncertain of the impact her words had on him.
The looming Games added a layer of tension to the air, but she couldn't afford to show any weakness.
She needed Reaper to understand and act on her guidance if he hoped to endure the challenges that awaited him in the arena.
As Seraphina concluded her one-sided conversation with Reaper, she turned her gaze toward Coriolanus, only to find him engaged in what appeared to be a hushed discussion with Lucy Gray.
Their laughter echoed through the air, and their camaraderie was unmistakable.
A subtle frown creased Seraphina's brow as she observed the closeness between Coriolanus and Lucy Gray, a twinge of unease settling within her.
She watched them, noting the shared enjoyment and camaraderie that seemed to bind them together.
The laughter felt like a distant echo, reaching Seraphina as a reminder of a connection she couldn't fully comprehend.
It was a scene that stirred a complex mix of emotions within her— jealousy, confusion, and a growing sense of isolation.
Despite her own feelings, Seraphina maintained her composed exterior, her Capitol Sweetheart persona shielding her vulnerabilities.
For a moment, Seraphina watched.
For a moment she watched as he laughed, forgetting where they were, and how depressing the backdrop was.
For a moment there was just Coriolanus' smile as he watched Lucy Gray, the musical cadence of her voice as he listened, and the hint of flirtation that radiated off of them.
For a moment, Seraphina watched.
Then the world exploded.
The deafening explosion ripped through the arena, unleashing chaos and destruction in its wake.
Seraphina was thrown to the ground, her senses overwhelmed by the shockwave that reverberated through the air.
The world around her transformed into a maelstrom of rubble, dust, and smoke, obscuring her vision and choking the air.
As she struggled to regain her bearings, panic set in.
The first explosion, which seemed to have come from the main gate, initiated a chain of eruptions around the arena.
Running was out of the question. It was all she could do to cling to the rumbling ground, hope for it to stop, and try to keep her panic in check.
"Coryo," she coughed out.
Seraphina's first instinct was to locate Coriolanus amidst the disarray.
The acrid taste of dust clung to her tongue, and her eyes stung as she frantically scanned the area.
The Capitol mentors, tributes, and Peacekeepers alike were thrown into disarray, each person trying to make sense of the sudden and unexpected attack.
Through the haze, Seraphina strained to see any sign of Coriolanus.
The distant echoes of screams and cries for help merged into a cacophony of desperation.
Fear surged through her veins as she pushed herself up from the ground, determined to find him amid the wreckage and ensure his safety.
In that moment of chaos, the Capitol Sweetheart's poise gave way to genuine concern for the person who had become an integral part of her tumultuous world.
A lull fooled Seraphina into thinking the episode had ended, but just as she lifted her head, a final explosion in the stands above them demolished what had once been a snack stand — that pink spun sugar, those caramel-coated apples— and burning debris rained down on them.
With a throbbing pain in her leg, Seraphina struggled to stand amidst the chaos.
The dust and debris hung in the air like a thick shroud, making it difficult to see more than a few feet in front of her.
Blood trickled down her leg from a scratch inflicted by the rubble, but she paid little attention to the pain, her immediate concern lying elsewhere.
"Coryo!" she called out, her voice lost in the tumult of panic and cries.
The echoes of the explosion still reverberated, and the arena had transformed into a nightmarish scene of destruction.
As the dust settled, revealing the extent of the devastation, Seraphina's heart raced with worry for Coriolanus.
The well-being of her fellow mentors and even Reaper seemed to fade into the background.
At that moment, the only thing that mattered was finding Coriolanus amidst the wreckage.
Each step forward felt like an eternity as she navigated through the debris, her eyes scanning for any sign of his familiar figure.
The eerie silence that followed the chaos only heightened Seraphina's anxiety.
The air was thick with tension, and the ominous aftermath of the explosion left her on edge.
With every passing second, the weight of uncertainty pressed upon her, fueling a growing sense of dread.
"Coryo!" she tried once more.
"Help!" she heard him cry. Similar pleas came from around her, but she couldn't see the other injured through the cloud. "Help!"
Time seemed to freeze as Seraphina's frantic search came to an abrupt halt.
There, amidst the wreckage, lay Coriolanus, burdened by the weight of a beam that pinned him down.
Panic surged through her, but she wasted no time.
Adrenaline coursing through her veins, she sprinted toward him, the gravity of the situation intensifying with each step.
As she reached Coriolanus, the sight of him trapped beneath the beam struck a chord of terror in her heart.
Without hesitation, Seraphina bent down, her hands gripping the cold metal as she summoned every ounce of strength within her.
The beam resisted, fighting back against her efforts, but Seraphina's determination burned fiercely.
In an unexpected twist, Lucy Gray appeared beside her, mirroring Seraphina's frantic attempt to free Coriolanus.
The two women, driven by a shared concern for his well-being, worked in unison.
Their combined strength became a force against the oppressive weight of the beam. For a moment, the world condensed into a struggle against the odds, the outcome uncertain.
Then, with a collective surge of effort, the beam yielded.
It was lifted off Coriolanus, allowing him to draw a desperate breath. But before Seraphina could register a moment of relief, Peacekeepers descended upon Lucy Gray, tearing her away from the scene.
Amidst the chaos, Seraphina's focus remained solely on Coriolanus.
The bond between them, strengthened by the shared ordeal, became a lifeline in the tumult of uncertainty.
In the surreal aftermath of the rescue, as Seraphina cradled Coriolanus in her arms, his unconscious form triggered a cascade of emotions within her.
"Lucy Gray," The last words he uttered before slipping into the realm of unconsciousness echoed in her mind like an ominous refrain– Lucy Gray's name, a haunting reminder of the connection that had taken root between them.
Did he even see me? Seraphina thought to herself.
For a fleeting moment, Seraphina clung to the threads of her desires, desperately hoping that Coriolanus would open his eyes and acknowledge her presence.
Yet, as the weight of reality pressed down upon her, she recognized the futility of her aspirations.
Lucy Gray had become a fixture in his thoughts, an undeniable presence that had eclipsed Seraphina's place in his heart.
The realization was a bitter pill to swallow, and as the final threads of her desire unraveled, Seraphina felt a profound sense of loss.
The man she had yearned for, the one she had envisioned as the center of her world, slipped through her fingers like grains of sand.
At that moment, she confronted the stark truth– she was losing him.
Exhaustion and the weight of emotional turmoil took their toll on Seraphina, pushing her to the brink of consciousness.
With a heavy heart, she relinquished her grip on the fading hope and succumbed to the darkness that enveloped her.
The world blurred into obscurity as she, too, slipped into an unconscious state, leaving the events that unfolded in the arena shrouded in uncertainty.
As Seraphina gradually stirred from the depths of unconsciousness, the sterile scent of the hospital permeated the air around her.
The soft hum of medical equipment and the distant murmur of voices served as the backdrop to her awakening.
Blinking her eyes open, she found herself in a hospital bed, the sterile, white surroundings a stark contrast to the chaos of the previous day.
Her gaze wandered, and she saw her parents engaged in a hushed conversation with doctors.
Her father, a figure of authority, was discussing matters with a stern demeanor, his concern etched on his face.
The bandage on her bruised leg caught her attention, a tangible reminder of the physical toll the explosion had taken on her.
Turning her head, Seraphina scanned the room and noticed some of her fellow classmates, who, like her, had been caught in the aftermath of the rebel attack.
Her immediate concern, however, was reserved for Coriolanus. Glancing to the bed beside her, she saw him still unconscious,
Tigris and Grandma'am stationed nearby like vigilant sentinels. A mix of relief and worry flooded Seraphina's thoughts.
Seraphina's eyes moved between her parents, the other mentors in the room, and the still-unconscious form of Coriolanus.
The events of the arena lingered in the air, and uncertainty shrouded the future.
In the cocoon of consciousness, Seraphina fluttered her eyes for them to adjust properly, gradually emerging from the shadows that had cradled her in a silent sanctuary.
The ambient hum of the hospital room gently beckoned her back to reality, where pain whispered its lingering presence across her body.
The first faces that materialized were those of concern, etched with relief and fretful love.
Her mother's gaze, a caress of maternal worry, and her father's furrowed brow, a sentinel of stern guardianship, painted a tableau of a family caught in the tempest of upheaval.
"Seraphina, sweetheart, you're awake," her mother's voice, a lullaby of comfort, reached her ears.
A feeble smile graced Seraphina's lips, a silent acknowledgment of gratitude for the mere gift of consciousness.
Her father, however, brandished his protective armor, his words a tempest of anger and frustration.
"Do you know how worried we've been? The whole Academy is in chaos. Those rebels—"
"Hush, dear. She needs to recover first," her mother interjected, attempting to soothe the storm within.
Yet, the tempest persisted.
"I'll be speaking to President Ravinstill about this. The safety of the mentors— and the students should be paramount. This kind of attack is unacceptable."
His words lingered, an unspoken weight in the room.
Seraphina's parents exchanged glances, a silent pact of concern, before reluctantly retreating, leaving her in the guardianship of Tigris and Grandma'am.
"Rest, Seraphina. We'll be back to check on you soon," her mother's parting words carried both assurance and trepidation.
As the door closed, Tigris and Grandma'am, like sentinels of care, converged on Seraphina.
Their voices, a soothing chorus, enveloped her in a comforting embrace.
"Oh, my dear, you gave us quite a scare!"
"Rest up, child. We'll make sure you're taken care of. Those rebels won't get the better of us."
And so, in the hushed confines of the hospital room, Seraphina surrendered to the tender care of those around her, the aftermath of the rebel bombing casting its shadow on the once-untouched halls of privilege.
Later that night, Seraphina couldn't help but to hobble in her steps as she paced back and forth in front of Coriolanus' bed who was yet to wake up.
The sterile scent of the hospital room mingled with the whispers of recovery, and Seraphina, with careful steps, navigated the space between the beds.
Her leg, encased in bandages, protested each movement, but determination lent her a silent grace.
Tigris, a steady presence at her side, offered a supportive arm. "Easy now, Sera. No need to rush."
Sejanus, bearing scratches that told a tale of survival, joined them with a nod of acknowledgment.
The trio formed a silent vigil, casting their collective gaze toward the figure in the adjacent bed, where Coriolanus began to stir.
His eyelids fluttered like the hesitant wings of a butterfly, and awareness gradually seeped into his gaze.
The room held its breath, anticipating the moment when consciousness would reclaim him.
"Coryo," Seraphina's voice, a whisper laced with concern, broke the stillness.
Tigris, Sejanus, and Seraphina stood as witnesses to the slow return of lucidity.
Coriolanus, disoriented at first, blinked away the haze of unconsciousness. His eyes, once vacant, regained a spark of recognition.
A collective exhale echoed in the room as Coriolanus focused on his surroundings.
His gaze swept over the faces of those who had kept vigil— Seraphina, Tigris, and Sejanus— each carrying the weight of the recent ordeal.
"Coryo," said Tigris. "It's us."
"Lucy Gray?"
As Coriolanus uttered those two words, the weight of them hung in the air like a heavy mist, settling over the room.
Seraphina's heart, a fragile construct that had weathered storms and secrets, now bore the weight of an ache she hadn't anticipated.
"Is she?" She could hear Coriolanus ask.
"She's alive," Tigris reassured him.
Seraphina felt the sting behind her eyes, the telltale signs of tears threatening to spill.
At that moment, she turned away, a silent gesture to shield her vulnerability from the prying eyes of those around her.
Her hand, steadying itself against the edge of a nearby table, betrayed the turmoil within.
Lucy Gray's name echoed, not just in the hospital room, but through the corridors of her consciousness.
Was this her penance, she wondered, for the sins she carried?
A citizen of the Capitol, complicit in the Games that demanded children's lives?
Or was it the consequences of using her scientific knowledge for dubious purposes, manipulating fates and lives?
The tears that escaped, brushed away with a swift motion, carried the weight of disappointment.
Disappointment in herself for allowing these emotions to hold sway, for letting herself become entangled in a web where she was destined to lose.
She was tired— tired of being a pawn, tired of harboring feelings that would never be reciprocated, tired of the knowledge that Coriolanus's desire for her was likely rooted in the power and influence of her family.
Unbeknownst to him, Seraphina was privy to Coriolanus's ambitions.
She understood the machinations at play, the desire for power that fueled him.
And as the last strand of hope, the last string she had clung to, snapped with those two words, she allowed herself to feel the weight of defeat.
"What happened?" She heard Coriolanus ask.
"It was a rebel bombing," said Sejanus.
"They must have been planning it for months. Four tributes were killed."
"I was so scared, Coryo. Knowing you were going through it all alone," said Tigris, placing her hand on top of his.
"I wasn't alone," he said.
"Lucy Gray was there. She saved my life, I think."
Seraphina's heart skipped a beat as Coriolanus spoke those words, offering comfort to Tigris by mentioning Lucy Gray's presence and the fact that she had saved him.
The words hung in the air, heavy and irrevocable, and Seraphina's initial reaction was one of disbelief.
Tigris gave Coriolanus' hand a squeeze. "I'm not surprised. She's obviously a good person. Right from the beginning, she tried to protect you from the other tributes."
It was a cruel twist of fate, a bitter pill to swallow, that he didn't even realize that Lucy Gray had not been alone in saving him.
He spoke of her presence, her heroics, and it stung like a thousand tiny needles.
He didn't know that Seraphina had been there, that she too had fought to free him from the weight of that fallen beam.
That he had not been alone, not in that moment.
"Everyone's terrified, Coryo. People are locking themselves inside their houses. Felix Ravinstill's on life support." Tigris said almost teary while Seraphina remained behind them still frozen on the spot.
"The rebels released a message. They said they wanted to tear down the symbol of the Hunger Games on live TV. Marcus got out... he's the only one. Peacekeepers are hunting him in the streets but at least he has a better chance out there than he would tomorrow." Sejanus filled Coriolanus in, his own grief knowing his friend was being hunted down was weighing on him.
"Tomorrow? They're not still going ahead of the Games?" Coriolanus asked in disbelief as he turned to Sejanus in confirmation who simply stayed silent, confirming Coriolanus' questions.
"Oh no, Lucy Gray," said Coriolanus as he tried to sit up while Tigris helped him.
A wave of heartbreak washed over her, drowning her in a sea of unspoken pain.
To be so close, to hold him in that crucial moment, and yet to be invisible in the recesses of his memory— it felt like a dagger to the soul.
She felt the walls of her world crumbling, and as the fragments fell away, something in her mind snapped.
The sound of Lucretius Flickerman's voice drew their attention.
The Hunger Games: A Night of Interviews kicked off earlier that night in front of a live audience in the Academy auditorium while broadcasting throughout Panem.
Of the mentor-tribute pairs who were capable of participating, only half had something to present.
Reaper was not one of them which is why Seraphina never cared to watch the program in the first place.
"And now for our final tribute. I first met this young lady in the zoo not too long ago. From District 12... Lucy Gray Baird. Come out here with that guitar, you songbird." Lucretius announced.
Coriolanus practically jumped out of the hospital bed and with the help of Tigris and Sejanus, limped his way closer to the television.
He still hasn't noticed Seraphina.
"Good evening, Capitol, Districts. I wrote this song about a boy back in 12 and I hope he hears it." Lucy Gray smiled with the guitar in her hand.
When I was a babe I fell down in the holler.
When I was a girl I fell into your arms.
We fell on hard times and we lost our bright color.
You went to the dogs and I lived by my charms.
Seraphina couldn't tear her eyes away from Coriolanus as Lucy Gray began to sing during her interview.
The air in the room seemed to shift, and a myriad of emotions played across Coriolanus's face as he watched intently.
For a moment, there was relief etched in the lines of his features, a softening of the tension that seemed to perpetually cling to him.
As Lucy Gray's voice filled the airwaves, a hint of admiration danced in Coriolanus's eyes.
It was a look that bespoke a connection, a sense of pride in knowing this girl from District 12, and Seraphina couldn't help but read between the lines.
I danced for my dinner, spread kisses like honey.
You stole and you gambled and I said you should.
We sang for our suppers, we drank up our money.
Then one day you left, saying I was no good.
Admiration lingered on his face, a genuine appreciation for the artistry unfolding on the screen.
Seraphina watched, her own emotions swirling, as the man she yearned for found solace and pride in another's performance.
The complexities of their relationship, woven with threads of affection, competition, and unspoken desires, played out in the quiet intensity of that moment.
Well, all right, I'm bad, but then, you're no prize either.
All right, I'm bad, but then, that's nothing new.
You say you won't love me, I won't love you neither.
Just let me remind you who I am to you.
The heartbreak, instead of rendering her helpless, metamorphosed into a volatile anger.
It was a shift, a transformation from the sorrow of unrequited love to the unsettling realm of a woman scorned.
The realization that she had become a ghost in his recollection, that the moments they shared were overshadowed by the presence of another, fueled a kind of madness.
'Cause I am the one who looks out when you're leaping.
I am the one who knows how you were brave.
And I am the one who heard what you said sleeping.
I'll take that and more when I go to my grave.
Seraphina's gaze, once soft and filled with a delicate longing, now bore a manic intensity.
The pain had twisted into something darker, a storm that raged within her. The unspoken rage, born from a heart betrayed, festered and bubbled beneath the surface.
At that moment, the narrative shifted, and Seraphina Aveline was no longer a pawn; she was a force to be reckoned with, a tempest of emotions threatening to unravel the delicate threads of her sanity.
It's sooner than later that I'm six feet under.
It's sooner than later that you'll be alone.
So who will you turn to tomorrow, I wonder?
For when the bell rings, lover, you're on your own.
Seraphina's movements, calculated and silent, approached the corner where the head doctor engaged in conversation with a nurse.
Her steps were measured, ensuring the trio— Coriolanus, Tigris, and Sejanus— remained oblivious to her subtle departure, their attention ensnared by Lucy Gray's televised performance.
And I am the one who you let see you weeping.
I know the soul that you struggle to save.
Too bad I'm the bet that you lost in the reaping.
Now what will you do when I go to my grave?
The hum of the hospital machinery muffled any sounds of her approach, and the nurse, engrossed in her duties, didn't register Seraphina's presence until she cleared her throat discreetly.
The doctor, absorbed in their discussion, only shifted his gaze when the nurse's attention waned.
In the dimly lit corner, Seraphina stood with a poised determination, her eyes focused on the doctor.
The atmosphere crackled with unspoken intent as she awaited the opportune moment to make her demands.
"Ding, ding, ding. Look at that. Record high for the evening. The Capitol is definitely watching. People sending in donations... see what happens when you do stuff?"
Their eyes met, and the intensity in Seraphina's gaze demanded attention.
"I need to be released immediately. Call my father and have him send my driver Leo to pick me up." she asserted, her tone leaving no room for negotiation.
"Ms. Aveline, we have protocols to follow. The discharge is scheduled for this evening along with the rest of the patients." The doctor, entrenched in his professional demeanor, attempted to explain hospital protocols, emphasizing the scheduled discharge later in the evening.
Seraphina, undeterred, issued a veiled threat, her words laden with the unspoken power that lingered in the corridors of the Capitol.
"Now, I don't love your odds, but may they be in your favor." Lucretius Flickerman's voice was heard.
"You don't seem to understand, Doctor. My father can make things very difficult for you if you don't comply. You wouldn't want to jeopardize your position, would you?" Seraphina's eyes ablaze with intensity weren't one to be deterred by protocols.
Realizing the weight of her implication, the doctor hesitated before reluctantly reaching for the hospital phone.
"Mr. Aveline, this is Dr.Fitch. Your daughter, Ms. Seraphina, wishes to be discharged early and for her driver to pick her up right now, Sir. Yes, I understand. We'll prepare the necessary paperwork."
The call to her father was made, and Seraphina, victorious in her silent confrontation, shot a final, piercing look at the doctor.
The unspoken warning lingered in her eyes— a reminder that in the Capitol, influence was currency, and she held a considerable purse.
"Ms. Lucy Gray, District 12. How wonderful is this night that we all get to be here for someone's final performance... Ms. Lucy Gray, thank you."
That was the first time Seraphina smiled today, in fact, she could burst out laughing.
"Go home, go to bed, get a good night's sleep. You've got a big day tomorrow." Lucretius finally ended the program, saying his goodbye to the audience.
As Seraphina's car pulled up to the Aveline mansion, Seraphina's gaze scanned the dimly lit driveway.
Her mind swirled with tumultuous thoughts, a tempest of emotions that only deepened the shadows beneath her contemplative gaze.
Seated in the luxurious interior of the car, Seraphina's fingers drummed lightly on the armrest, a nervous rhythm to accompany the chaotic thoughts within.
The darkness outside seemed to echo the turmoil within her mind, and she wrestled with the decisions that lay ahead.
As Leo, ever dutiful, stood by the car, ready to assist, Seraphina finally broke the silence.
"Leo, I want you to do something for me," she said, her voice steady despite the storm raging within.
The driver nodded attentively, his loyalty evident in the earnest gaze he fixed upon her.
Leo, sensing the gravity of her request, nodded again. "Consider it done, Ms. Aveline."
With that, Seraphina walked towards the front entrance, the weight of her decisions and the impending revelations pressing upon her like the encroaching darkness of the night.
Before she entered the mansion, Seraphina's emerald green eyes watched as the car glided back into motion, carrying Leo toward the opulent facade of the Capitol where secrets and shadows intermingled in the halls of power.