𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐝-𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐝

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𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐞𝐧

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𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐞𝐧.

( cold-hearted )

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

"Ladies and gentlemen, let the Sixty-seventh Hunger Games begin!"

The voice boomed all around Ares as he took in a sharp gasp of air, watching as his breath puffed out in front of him as he blinked his eyes to adjust to the blinding white all around him. It was all-encompassing, from the artificial orb beaming down on them, to the light reflecting off of the plain snow packing the ground around the edges of his vision and glinting off of the wet ice that seemed to be everywhere.

The arena, an expansive frozen canvas, painted a scene of desolation.

All of the platforms were suspended on a flat, open stretch of ice that spread far and wide as if they were standing on a frozen-over lake of some sort. When Ares stared down at a spot to try and see what was underneath the translucent ice, there was nothing but an abyss below, mysterious and foreboding as he could have sworn he saw some sort of shadow pass by. He didn't have time to decipher what it could have been though, not when he had a plan to follow.

Past all of the ice, his gaze sought out the Cornucopia next which was right in the center the solid lake, perched on top of what looked like a large jagged chuck of ice that protruded up from the ground. A glacier, if he remembered correctly from the environmental handbook he read through on the training grounds. They'd have to climb up it in order to get to the finer supplies piled on top. Food, containers of water, weapons, medicine, garments, fire starters. One slip, though, and a tribute behind them wouldn't hesitate to slice your throat as you fell.

The countdown began.

60...

Strewn precariously around the area sticking out of the snow or encased within the ground or the smaller glaciers, where no one would be able to get unless they chipped away at the ice, were lesser packs of supplies. Things that would last only a short time before a tribute would need more. Giving them a fleeting chance that would inevitably force them later out of hibernation and back into the bloodbath in the center.

50...

Off just to the side of him, where he could make it quick if he ran, were two tempting swords sticking out of the snowy ground, not at all similar to the one he picked during the evaluations but mesmerizing all the same. And they were beautiful. Made of something that almost looked like ice itself, matching the environment with a chilling lethality. It was as if they were laid there purposefully to tempt him out to grab them.

To force the Fallen Angel into battle.

40...

Ares looked out toward the tributes around him, his eyes searching for one face until finally landing on Pandora exactly adjacent to him, all the way on the other side of the large expanse of ice. She was already staring at him, hunched over with her chest heaving in deep breaths trying to force herself to be focused, and she nodded her head to the right side. That was where she would run.

𝐒𝐀𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐅𝐈𝐂𝐄 - finnick odairWhere stories live. Discover now