Endless Embers: the 95th annual hunger games

Silent Farewell

In the shadowy realm of the arena, Prim's bowstring sang its silent lullaby. An arrow sliced through the still air, finding its mark with lethal precision. The career tribute, caught in the crossfire of Prim's grief and vengeance, crumpled to the ground without a word. The Capitol's anthem, a haunting refrain, underscored the gravity of the moment. No words passed between Prim and the fallen career. Their silent exchange spoke volumes, a macabre ballet of life and death.

But in the heart of the arena, where the air hung heavy with sorrow, a more profound tragedy unfolded. The fallen tribute, in a final act of cruel defiance, drove a knife into Finnick's throat. The metallic echo of steel meeting flesh resonated through the silent arena. Time seemed to slow as Prim, propelled by a mixture of dread and despair, rushed to Finnick's side. Their eyes, once vibrant with shared secrets and unspoken understanding, locked in a gaze that transcended the looming specter of death. No words passed between them, for the language of grief and love needed no articulation.

Cradling her brother in her arms, Prim felt the warmth of his life ebbing away. The Capitol's anthem, an unyielding reminder of the Games' merciless grip, played on—a dirge for the fallen, a requiem for the hopeful. In the sacred silence, a heartbeat echoed, a poignant rhythm that resonated with the finality of the moment. Finnick, on the precipice of eternity, reached out with trembling fingers. Their hands met, fingers intertwining in a fleeting, heart-wrenching connection that bridged the chasm between life and death.

Through the haze of pain, Finnick managed a whisper, his voice a fragile echo in the stillness. "Prim," he breathed, his eyes searching hers for solace. The unsaid words lingered, heavy with the weight of a thousand memories and unfulfilled dreams. Prim, her eyes brimming with unshed tears, responded "i'm here" and gave a squeeze of his hand—a silent promise that transcended the limits of mortality. The warmth of his touch, once vibrant, now waned like the dying embers of a once-blazing fire. 

A serene resignation settled into Finnick's gaze, a farewell etched in the lines of his weary face. Yet, even in the face of impending darkness, a smile graced his lips—a fragile echo of the laughter that had once danced between siblings. As the anthem's last note faded into the night, Finnick's eyes held a serene resignation. The silent farewell spoke louder than any words could convey. The Capitol, with its insatiable appetite for tragedy, had claimed another victim, leaving behind a shattered sister and the echo of a silent farewell lingering in the desolate arena.