𝐈 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐄𝐍𝐃 | 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐝𝐚𝐢𝐫

four

Upon their arrival at the capitol, Lilith and Ben found themselves engulfed by a frenzied crowd that clamored around them, shouting and cheering as they stepped off the train. Ben responded with waves and smiles, embracing the crowd, while Lilith, harboring resentment for the Capitol's broken promises and the life-threatening situation they were thrust into once again, chose to ignore the well-wishers.

Lilith couldn't suppress her anger at being forced into this perilous spectacle for the entertainment of others. The mere thought of facing the Capitol, particularly President Snow, fueled a fiery rage within her. The intensity of her hatred for the man surpassed mere disdain; she yearned to witness his downfall.

Entering the dimly lit hotel room, Trinity, Hadley, Daryll, Lilith, and Ben, all gathered in the cozy living room area. The atmosphere was tense, charged with anticipation as they settled in to discuss the weighty matters at hand.

"Okay, first things first, this is an entirely new field. The Capitol has revamped every aspect for these Games. You'll be facing some of the most vicious tributes." Hadley said.

"No kidding," Ben muttered under his breath.

"I need both of you to train as hard as you can," Daryll emphasized. Training was crucial, serving as a vital component for securing sponsors and mastering essential survival skills. The rigorous sessions not only enhanced their physical prowess but also increased their chances of survival in the arena.

For the District Ten tributes, the regimen had paid off. Ben had gained noticeable strength from his dedicated weight training sessions every other day. Meanwhile, Lilith had channeled her anger into martial arts, honing her combat skills with a fierce intensity. Their physical improvements were evident, each session sculpting them into more formidable contenders for the trials ahead.

Lilith leaned forward, her elbows finding a comfortable perch on her knees as she directed her gaze towards her mentors. "Who exactly are we up against?" She asked, her voice tinged with curiosity and a hint of anticipation, eager to glean any additional details about their impending opponents.

Daryll unveiled the list of tributes selected for the quarter quell, laying it out before the group. Lilith's demeanor shifted visibly, her confidence faltering as she watched the reaping. The realization struck her hard, her own face not among them, but the face of someone she knew all too well: Finnick.

Dread washed over her as she contemplated the inevitable confrontation with him, her mind already conjuring images of his smirk, his taunting presence. And then there was the white sweater, a cruel reminder of their shared past, now worn mockingly to the reaping. It was as though he probably knew the effect it would have on her, a calculated move to unsettle her further in this twisted game of survival. Lilith knew she couldn't face him without succumbing to a mix of spite and survival instincts, either risking her own demise or becoming the perpetrator.

Lilith felt a pang of sadness as she watched Mags step forward to volunteer for Annie. Mags had triumphed in the Eleventh Hunger Games at the tender age of sixteen. Now, sixty-four years later, she was back in the arena. The thought was heartbreaking—Mags should not have to endure this again. Her chances of survival were slim unless Finnick chose to sacrifice himself, which seemed like an even toss-up, or Mags sacrificed herself, which seemed all too likely. The odds were harrowingly against them.

"This should be easy for you," Ben remarked, glancing at Lilith. "You hardly know these people."

Lilith rolled her eyes at Ben's thoughtless comment. Sure, she had deliberately distanced herself from the Capitol, avoiding its events unless absolutely necessary. Consequently, most of the tributes were strangers to her, with the notable exceptions of Finnick, Mags, Johanna, and Ben himself. His remark, however, overlooked the complexity of her choices and the relationships she valued.