THE BALLAD REBORN | Hunger Games

SIX

The morning of the Games arrived with a mix of apprehension and determination. Tigris, the skilled stylist who had prepared me for the interviews, was there to help me get dressed in the attire suitable for the arena. As she adjusted the straps of my outfit, her eyes filled with a mix of pride and concern.

"You've got this, Cordelia," Tigris whispered, her voice filled with encouragement. "Remember everything I taught you. Stay focused, trust your instincts, and fight for your survival."

Her words echoed in my mind as I bid her farewell, the weight of the impending danger settling upon my shoulders. With a deep breath, I stepped onto the platform, feeling the lift beneath my feet as I was raised into the arena.

The arena was a breathtaking expanse of dense woodland, a realm where nature's beauty was entwined with treacherous perils. Towering trees, their branches reaching for the sky, cast dappled shadows upon the forest floor. The air was filled with the earthy scent of moss and damp soil, carrying a sense of ancient serenity.

At the heart of the arena, a magnificent waterfall cascaded down a rocky precipice, its crystal-clear waters plunging into a serene lake below. The gentle rumble of the waterfall provided a soothing backdrop to the otherwise foreboding atmosphere, as if nature itself sought to offer solace amidst the chaos.

But danger lurked even within this picturesque scene. Surrounding the cornucopia, where essential supplies awaited the tributes, lay a deadly barrier of sharp white roses. Their delicate petals concealed razor-sharp thorns, ready to tear flesh and draw blood with every ill-advised step. A deceptive beauty, the roses served as a constant reminder of the lurking threats that lay within the arena.

I scanned the area, taking in the sight of the other tributes gathered on their respective podiums. Fear and determination mingled on their faces, mirroring the emotions that swirled within me. The countdown began, each passing second intensifying the impending chaos.

As the countdown reached its final moments, I braced myself, ready to face the bloodbath that awaited. The gong sounded, and I sprinted forward, my heart pounding in my chest. Adrenaline fueled my movements as I maneuvered through the chaos, narrowly avoiding the desperate clutches of other tributes.

As the gong resounded, signifying the start of the bloodbath, my focus honed in on the coveted knives nestled within the cornucopia. With a surge of adrenaline, I sprinted towards the gleaming weapons, aware that others were in pursuit.

Amongst the chaos, I found myself locked in a tense struggle with a formidable District 2 female tribute. Her strength and skill were evident, but my determination to secure the knives burned fiercely within me.

We clashed, our bodies twisting and turning in a desperate dance of survival. The sound of metal against metal reverberated through the air as we fought fiercely for control of the weapon that would determine our fate.

Driven by sheer willpower, I managed to overpower her, my hands grasping the hilt of the knife. In one swift motion, fueled by a surge of primal instinct, I struck with precision, the blade finding its mark.

As the District 2 tribute fell, the reality of what I had just done sank in. A mixture of relief and guilt washed over me, the weight of taking a life within the confines of this twisted game burdening my conscience.

With the knives secured, I swiftly disengaged from the cornucopia, darting into the safety of the surrounding woodland. The initial surge of chaos began to subside, replaced by an eerie silence as the other tributes retreated to regroup and strategize.

But amidst the relief of surviving the initial confrontation, the absence of David remained a haunting presence in my mind. I couldn't help but wonder if he was safe, if he had managed to escape the bloodshed of the cornucopia.