Prologue

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Disclaimer: I didn't write this series. Suzanne Collins did. All credit to her.

Slowly, Henry moved through the vast cavern. The jagged stone walls dripped water downwards, and the blue light cast from the hole shown down upon Henry.He looked left to right. He breathed to make sure he was alive. And, unfortunately, he was. The breath that coiled over in the air in front of him was all too real, the familiar sting of cold on his cheeks sending shivers up his spine. Henry grimaced as he took his first few steps in over two years, each one sending a wave of pain up his spine. How? How am I alive? He thought. He stepped in a puddle, splashing water up his clothes and splattering himself. It was dark here. Very dark. Henry craned his neck to check behind him, and it was still there. The glowing blue light. It was all mysterious, weird, and seemed to be the work of something evil, if you asked Henry. As his eyes adjusted, Henry squinted as he seemed to.make out a hunched figure in the distance. He was tracing his hand on the ground. Henry walked closer, and the man, at a second glance, was using a knife. He was carving something into the ground. "Hello?" Asked Henry. The man ignored him. He was very frail and bony, he couldn't be in a healthy state. "Hey!" Snapped Henry. The man turned around. How frail his face was shocked Henry. He had sunken eyes and an insane look about him. His frizzy hair stuck out and his scraggly beard was very unkempt. "Who are you?" ASKES Henry. The man grinned, revealing several missing teeth. He pointed to a wall of the cavern. Henry glanced upwards, and knew who he was almost immediately. Thousands of words had been scratched into the cavern wall, covering as far as the old man could have reached. Henry looked back at the senile old man. Those weren't just words. They were prophecies.

Yet again, Bartholomew grinned.

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