The Warrior of Ice

Chapter 1: Countdown

 The countdown begins. 60, 59, 58... The platform under my feet begins to rise, and the bright lights of the room throw reflections on the cylindrical glass walls around me. I clutch my backpack like it’s a lifeline, though really, how much help will a backpack be? As the tube breaks the surface, I am blinded for a moment as a bright burst of sunlight hits my eyes. 44, 43, 42... The platform shudders slightly as it slows to a stop, sitting on what had previously been a ceiling over my head. As it settles, I squint my eyes and get the full impact of what surrounds me. My platform is surrounded by water; small waves lap its metal sides. I’m facing a sandy beach, the middle of which showcases the golden Cornucopia. The glint of the sunlight reflects off its metallic sides, and illuminates the other twenty-three people standing on platforms identical to mine in a ring, all circling the beach. 37, 36, 35...

All twenty-four of us now take as quick a glance as we dare, at our outward surroundings. Three bridges made of sand jut out from the beach and lead off to other islands. A huge, circular island that spans to the north, farther than my eyes can see, gleams icy blue in the light; I realize that it is in fact, made entirely of ice, and shudder as a cold wind blows in from its direction. To the southwest, another island: this one a dense forest with brilliant green trees of every kind. The southeast, directly behind me, holds a deadly looking mountainous, desert island. Even from here, I can see the heat illusions rising from the orange sand. And to the slight northeast, there’s an island smaller than the rest, surrounded by high metal walls, and the inside looks like a scrap yard. A hexagonal shape of sand bridges that are barely visible in the distance seems to connect the islands: ice with forest; forest with desert; desert with scrap; scrap with ice. 29, 28...

I return my focus to my platform, and the unfriendly dark blue waters that surround it. I judge it to be at least a few meters away from the border of the Cornucopia beach and am grateful that I took the time to learn how to swim in the lakes back in District 10. The thought of my home sends my glance to my left, where I see Archie, my district partner on his platform. He returns my glance, his grey-blue eyes betraying some of the worry that is bound to plague all of us here at one point or another. But I know that he, at least, has a chance. He’s already allied. Me? I prefer to be left alone. I quickly look away again as his eyes meet mine. There’s no time in the arena for sentimentalities. 22, 21, 19...

But... wait, what is that? I squint my eyes even more, trying to make out the purple haze that I thought I had just seen. It surrounds the entire ring of platforms, and rises high in the air in a dome above us and the beach. And then a voice blares around the arena.

“Some of you may have noticed the dome surrounding your immediate area. You will not be able to leave this area until one requirement is met: five tributes must die on the Cornucopia beach. Welcome to the bloodbath.

10, 9, 8, 7...

I look around frantically as the last few seconds tick away. I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to die. Visions of the last week flash before my eyes, and despite my sudden panic, I still register the cliché wryly. Riding my horse across golden fields; Hathor, dipping her hand into the transparent glass bowl and pulling out a slip of paper; the silent train ride with Archie; the parade; training; my interview; and an almost comically sped-up rewind of this last minute.

5, 4, 3, 2...

“May the odds be ever in your favour. Let the Hunger Games begin.”

1.