1 - Uncharted Waters [Hunger Games]

27 - A Victor's Burden

Chapter 27

"Anchor" by Novo Amor

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

The roar of the Capitol crowd echoed over the speakers, a cacophony of cheers that felt hollow to Mira's ears. She barely registered the noise, still trapped in the shock of what had unfolded moments ago.

Destan was dead.

Her chest tightened painfully as she stared blankly at the vast sea stretching out before her. She couldn't bring herself to look down from the cliff, terrified of the sight that awaited below—the broken remains of her district partner.

The low hum of a hovercraft drew her attention as it materialized above, its shadow swallowing her whole. A ladder dropped down, and for a moment, she simply stared at it, uncomprehending. Then, as if her body acted on its own, her trembling hand reached for it. The moment her fingers brushed the rungs, an electric current surged through her, holding her in place. Without it, she was certain she would have fallen—too weak, too exhausted to hold herself up any longer.

By the time the hovercraft doors closed behind her, Mira's legs gave out entirely. She collapsed onto the cold floor, unconscious before she hit the ground.

When she woke, the world around her was unfamiliar. She lay motionless at first, staring at a softly glowing yellow ceiling that bathed the room in warm light. Her heart raced as she realized she was under the sheets, wearing only her undergarments. Panic clawed at her chest.

What if she had been violated?

A shudder ran through her, and she pressed herself against the headboard, curling into herself as memories of Ash haunted her mind. Her breath quickened, her tears falling uncontrollably. She fisted the sheets tightly, as if they could shield her from the world.

The door opened suddenly, and Mira flinched, her body tensing. An Avox entered, carrying a tray of food. The silent servant paid no mind to Mira's trembling form as she placed the tray on the bedside table and exited without a word.

Mira's eyes darted to the tray—a bowl of soup and a glass of water. She didn't trust it. Not a single bite. She was sure it was poisoned, that the Capitol was still toying with her, waiting for her to fall into their trap. Her stomach growled in protest, but she ignored it, sitting stiffly on the bed.

As she pushed her hair behind her ears, something strange caught her attention. Her hands. They were clean. Her hair was smooth and silky, her skin soft, as if the horrors of the arena had been scrubbed away.

But the memories were still there, sharper than ever.

Destan.

Stone.

She killed someone.

Her stomach turned. She was a monster.

Tears spilled down her cheeks again as the weight of it all crushed her, and she sobbed herself back into uneasy sleep.

When she woke again, her throat was so dry it felt like swallowing glass. The untouched tray of food sat beside her. She reached for the glass of water hesitantly, her hand shaking as she brought it to her lips. She took a tentative sip and waited, fear pooling in her stomach. Nothing happened. The water wasn't poisoned.

Relief flooded her, and she drained the glass in a few gulps. But she left the soup untouched, her distrust still lingering. Instead, her gaze swept the room, her eyes catching on a neatly folded pile of clothes. Her arena clothes.

Her heart skipped a beat. Was this a sick joke?

Swallowing her unease, she dressed quickly and approached the wall where she remembered the door had been. The invisible panel slid open silently, revealing a wide, empty hallway.