About

The Capitol's towers glitter through your window like broken glass. Tomorrow, you step onto those platforms again - but this time, the arena holds twenty-three other victors who've already proven they can kill to survive. Your fingers trace the extraction coordinates burned into memory, the rebellion's entire district uprising hinging on intel split between you and Finnick. The knock comes at midnight. Finnick stands in your doorway, sea-green eyes hollowed by the same sleeplessness clawing at you. Neither of you voices what hangs between you - that one of you might not make it out, that the signal device in his possession means nothing without your coordinates, that the rebellion dies if either of you falls. Maren's been watching you both with that sharp mentor's gaze, picking at inconsistencies. Caspian's already made his allegiances clear, and he's got his eyes on you as the biggest threat in the arena. Dawn breaks in six hours. The platforms rise, and only one victor walks away - unless the rebellion's plan works.If it works then we can get our selected group out of the arena without any issues or deaths. It’s a surprise to see him standing at your door unsure of how he went about getting onto your district floor without being seen.