chapter iii.

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ᴀᴛʟᴀs͙.

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She wasn't sure what was going through her head in that exact moment — in those two seconds when Tinsley Ivy, the Fourth District's escort, uttered that familiar sound after sound.

Atlas Nox.

A name she had owned for seventeen years and a surname she had owned for a measly five.

"Atlas Nox, where are you, dear?"

She didn't even realize right away that it was her who was being addressed. There was absolute emptiness in her mind. Only the people around her parted as if she had a terminal illness — and she did, didn't she?

Every Wednesday she performed in the school theater and day after day she had to represent the mayor's loving and beloved daughter, but in that minute... in that minute, she amateurishly allowed all the emotions to enter her face.

Breathe, Attie.

Breathe, Attie, she heard the words and the voice of her older brother, breathe.

And she clenched her jaw, raised her head, and breathed. Deeply, as if her death warrant had not just been signed.

Step by step she walked towards the podium near the courthouse. Her shoes clattering noisily in the chilling dead silence. Many people's faces showed relief, many regrets, sadness and disapproval, others a mixture of all. She perceived everything only in a kind of fog.

,,How old are you?" the purple-canary-haired woman's question echoed to her.

When you're nervous, imagine you're talking to me.
She blinked and saw her older brother's kind eyes again.

She forced her lips into a charming smile.

"Seventeen," she answered without a single hesitation, her expression impenetrable once again.

It cost her everything to resist the urge to run into her grandmother's arms and grab Marcellus' tiny hand like a lifeline.

She stood where Tinsley Ivy led her and continued to ignore all the world around her. She knew no one would volunteer, no one would come forward and take her place. Nor should they.

Atlas didn't want to die, no, she would like to dive into the embrace of the turquoise sea one more time and surf as fast as the waves.

But unlike hundreds of children before her, her death will not explicitly destroy anything or anyone. Her mother was dead, her older brother too. And her grandma will take care of little Marcellus.

She had nothing to lose. Not anymore.



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ꜰɪɴɴɪᴄᴋ.

⋆˚₊✦ੈ*———♆———ೄྀ࿐

"Were you classmates?"

"Hm?" He turned his sea-green gaze to Rhett, diverting attention from the announcement of the male tribute, who had volunteered — someone probably extremely foolish.

"Your reaction... you definitely know her," replied the black-haired victor, curiously examining his face with gray irises.

Finnick clenched his hands into fists.

"Of course I know her. By sight. She is the mayor's daughter."

He wasn't lying. He recognized her by sight. But even before she became a Nox.

The square was slowly emptying out, people were leaving, however, the depressing atmosphere still lingered in the air. He should have rushed to the train, but instinct held him in place.

With feigned awkwardness Kylen dropped both glass containers and they fell to the ground with a loud thud. A few pieces of paper fell out of them already in the summer.

While the staff tended to the ball with the boys' names, Kylen bent over the one with those of girls'. Finnick immediately came to his aid. As soon as he knelt down, Kylen gave him a knowing look and subtly tapped the unwrapped tickets with his index finger.

It only took one look for Finnick to realize what was going on — immediately, everything including Kylen's strange behavior became crystal clear.

And the reason was simple — all cards carried the same letters stored in the same order.

Atlas Nox.

⋆˚₊✦ੈ*———♆———ೄྀ࿐

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