Words escaped Hazel at the sight of Augustus Trask, appropriate words, at least. Ones that wouldn't leave her tongueless if she let them loose. Despite her voluntary muteness, she couldn't control her glare. Her vision sizzled over the features of the orchestrator of her brother's demise. Co-creator of her waking nightmare. Her limbs filled with a sensation so hot white that to call it hate would be insulting to the word. If Snow was the devil, what did that make the man before her?

In the few months since she had seen him last, Augustus appeared to have taken on an air of authority that hadn't been there before. He crossed the train car as if he owned it. Hell, he probably did in some perverse way.

Hazel's teeth ground as she fought to rein in her reactions. Scanning the faces of those around her, something peculiar caught her eye. They were equally surprised.

"Mr. Trask," Indira started, "How unexpected. We weren't aware you would be joining us."

Bellona shared an unsteady look with Sable, "Neither were we."

Augustus's teeth were almost as fiercely white as Gaul's. His lips stretched a fraction wider as his dark bronze eyes settled on Indira, "Well, Ms. Lovegood. I am here to supervise. Ensure that everything...goes as planned."

"Hobby of yours?" Hazel bit out. Augustus's eyes flashed, and his scrutiny zeroed in on her. He is lucky my new gift is in my bag.

Leo's breath brushed along her shoulder as he positioned himself at her side. The pace of his breathing quickened like he was preparing for confrontation, though it wasn't obvious whose safety he should be more concerned with.

Before Augustus could respond, Festus cleared his throat. Her former mentor seemed to be fighting a glare of his own. "Indira and I are here." He gestured to the numerous peacekeepers, "She has two hand-picked guards, a war hero- they've assigned a legion for hell's sake. I doubt your supervision is necessary."

"Think of it as Doctor's orders," Augustus smirked. Figures. "Besides, she also felt it would be beneficial and informative for me to see the tour, given my new role."

"Sounds like she just wants you out of her hair," Festus replied.

Augustus's mouth twitched as Indira glided between them, "I apologize. Mr. Creed is just a little irritable from the long journey."

Hazel couldn't help herself, "Mr. Creed does tend to get more honest when he is tired."

Festus shared a look of slightly entertained solidarity with her. Indira pursed her lips, sending sharp looks at the both of them.

"Despite how you feel about my presence," Augustus straightened his shoulders, his chest pushed forward like a robin displaying its colorful chest feathers. "There is another reason I am here."

The train car grew silent as he reached into the deep pockets of his jacket. With a twitch of his lips, he pulled free a leather case. It was stained the color of fresh blood.

Hazel frowned at the vague familiarity of the object. Augustus strode several long steps closer and her muscles tensed of their own accord.

Clearing his throat, he stopped his advance when he was an arm's length from her. Raising the box between them, he nodded for her to take it. "For you."

Great, more secret, mysterious, mildly threatening gifts.

"No, thank you." Hazel was as rigid as if she were frozen. Leo's sigh washed over her senses at her refusal. "There is nothing you could offer that I would ever want, Mr. Trask."

"For now, perhaps." Augustus tilted his head at her hostility. "But, not to worry... it's not from me."

Somewhere beside her, Indira let out an exasperated breath. "Hazel dear..." she prodded.

Hazel hesitated a moment longer before she finally pulled the box from him. She flipped open the lid. Resting in a pillow of matching silk was her Victor's medal. Or, at least, an identical replica of it.

"Compliments of Head Gamemaker, Dr. Gaul," Augustus said, studying her reaction. "Since apparently, your other one has gone missing."

"It's not missing." Hazel's eyes locked on to his, her stare so searing it might just melt the blue out of his braid. Close up, the unnatural shade had faded into a sickly turquoise. "It is exactly where it belongs."

Augustus watched her carefully before murmuring, "Either way. We can't have a medaless Victor, now can we." He pointed to the box, "May I?"

Hazel chewed on the inside of her cheek and continued to fight the abject hatred flowing through her.

"Of course, Mr. Gamemaker," Indira answered in her place.

Augustus leaned forward, fingers plucking the medal from its silk bed. As he examined it, his lips curled at the edges. An infuriating expression colored his features... self-satisfaction...pride even.

"Would you rather wear it, Sir?" Hazel asked.

Augustus's face tightened at her brazenness. Leo's murmur caressed her ear in a stern warning, "Marlowe."

Augustus smirked darkly. "Nonsense." He flexed his fingers around the medal tighter as he circled her like a vulture scanning its prey.

She threaded her fingers together as if the gesture could hold her back from doing anything she would regret. Swallowing down a scream, she took in a deep breath as he guided the award over her head, the medal coming to rest against her chest like a brick necklace.

Augustus's voice slithered to her ear, "I wanted you to have it, didn't I?" He swept away the hair from the nape of her neck, lifting the strands free from the strap. "Red."

Hazel's emerald eyes seared into his as he circled back in front of her.

The tension in the train car was thick as coal smoke when Festus finally grunted, "So what is this plan, Mr. Trask?"

Augustus smiled wickedly, "It's showtime." With that, he spun back toward the doors and gestured for the group to follow.

Festus muttered something about theatrics while Indira advised him to calm down. Hazel met the slightly unsteady gazes of her three peacekeepers.

Leo seemed to be willing her to not do anything stupid with his eyes. She sucked in a deep breath as she moved to the train doors.

The District Twelve platform was covered in so much coal dust that it appeared permanently stained. However, worse than the dreary palette was the group gathered to greet her. Cameras littered the platform. They were so odd and out of place in comparison to their surroundings.

Peacekeepers held the citizens at bay, close enough to see her but far enough away they couldn't touch.

Augustus sauntered out of the train first, turning back to her, hand outstretched.

Hazel stared at it like it was a poisonous viper offering her an olive branch. A thorned olive branch, most likely. She wanted to slap his palm away or maybe give him a scar that matched her own. What did you get when you mixed a vulture with a snake? Whatever it was, this man embodied its spirit.

"Easy," Indira whispered. With the world watching, she needed to play along, no matter how much she wished to do the opposite. The cameras were waiting. The crowd was waiting. Her hatred would have to wait, too.

Here goes nothing. Dust and coal filled her lungs as she relented and placed her good hand in Augustus's. His fingers trapped hers in a vice-like grip, pressing painfully into the bones and ligaments.

"Thank you." Hazel bit out under her breath, freeing herself from his touch once she was securely over the threshold.

"My pleasure." The man whispered with another wide, glinting smile aimed at the press.

"No Flickerman?" she asked.

Augustus chuckled, "Not in this District. He's covering a certain popular Senator's campaign at the moment."

"Oh." It would make more sense that it would require heavy media coverage.

"Don't worry. You'll be back in the spotlight in no time."

"I'm not the one flirting with the camera, Mr. Trask," Hazel replied.

"Keep telling yourself that, Red." Augustus kept his attention straight ahead, though a smirk slid over his lips.

Snake vulture was becoming a more accurate description with every passing second. Hazel sent him a hard glance before taking in her surroundings. She couldn't help herself but ache at the faces of those who had gathered. The people were very similar to those in Seven, except for a few drastic differences.

They were much thinner and harder, their bones closer to the surface, and their skin layered in black and brown dust. All of Panem was aware that Twelve was one of the poorer of the Districts. But now, actually observing the coal-covered landscape and its downtrodden citizens, the bleakness of reality flooded through her.

Suddenly, a flash of color in the dreary setting caught her eye. Pink. A young boy had a loop of rose color fabric around his wrist. Then, another older girl had a band tied in her hair.

Her heart clenched at the sight, and she ran her finger over her matching wrapping. Oh, Rubes, if only you could see. Hazel imagined her grinning at so many people wearing her favorite color.

"Miserable place, in my opinion. They don't even have a accommodations for visiting Victors to stay. So you'll be sleeping on the train tonight." Augustus muttered. "On the bright side, your stay here will be mercifully brief."

Hazel eyed the man in her periphery. "From what I've heard, your visits here are anything but brief. But still definitely miserable."

She caught the faintest snort from Sable, though he quickly covered it with what sounded like a false cough.

Indira looped her arm through Hazels, pulling her down the cobblestone streets toward the square. The rounded rocks were slick with ash and uneven beneath her impractical shoes.

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Augustus allowed the woman to pull her away, falling behind the group without argument. Though Hazel could feel his irritated stare searing holes in the back of her skull.

"You're treading dangerous waters, my dear," Indira muttered, though her face was a smiling mask.

"She's right, Hazel." Bellona skirted her other side as their group was led further into the foreign District.

Hazel pressed her lips together, resigning herself to look anywhere but the Gamemaker stalking behind her. The District was desaturated, bled dry of color and life, then buried beneath layers of gray.

A forest was in the distance, though the edges of it had been cleared away. It was as if the land itself had been gnawed. The skeletal outline of a budding fence was clawing its way into existence along its edge. The sight of it reminded Hazel of the padlock on her patio doors. The people of District Twelve were apparently getting a cage of their own.

"It is something, isn't it?" Sable scowled, breathing in the slightly burnt smell.

Hazel could hardly picture Ruby and Ethan living here. Or even Lucy Grey, for that matter. But the starved people gathered made her realize why the two had relished the abundance of food at the Castellan Manor.

A surge of guilt rushed through her at the thought of her mother's meals. These people and her two alliance partners probably went days without nourishment. She could imagine they didn't have the luxury of turning down something like cheesecake.

Even before becoming a Victor, her life had been practically wealthy in comparison to those before her now.

In the center of town, a stage was set up with a silver microphone at its center. The crowd parted with gruff encouragement from the local peacekeepers. Her group pressed forward like a parade of clowns at a funeral. They were painfully out of place, and their clothing was completely the wrong palette.

Two sets of people stood apart in front of the platform, holding various pictures of Ruby and Ethan. Their images drew her in. Indira let her pull ahead as Hazel took in the tear-stained faces of this new group. They were a mixture of vaguely familiar yet foreign features. Each one had pink fabric tied to their clothing.

A woman with ashy brown hair and a man with light eyes stood together, hands clasped. The woman was robust despite her starved features. The man beside her appeared calm and collected, as if he was doing his best to ground his wife.

Next to them, another couple with grey eyes and gaunt faces stood shoulder to shoulder. But it was the young girl who stood between them that ensnared her. Her dark hair was plaited in two unruly braids. Despite being years younger and a head shorter, she could pass as Ruby's twin.

"Hello, Hazel." Even her gentle voice was a mirror of her sister.

"Hello," Hazel breathed out. Her heart hammered in her ears as she got closer. "What's your name?"

She visibly brightened at Hazel's question, "Amethyst."

"How beautiful." Hazel's pulse rate spiked as the girl's parents inched closer. "Mr. and Mrs. Hart?"

The two nodded, watching her without speaking. It must be odd to see her standing an arm's length away instead of hunched over their dying child on a television screen.

Hazel held out her hand, and they stared at her for a long moment like she wasn't real. Just as she was about to withdraw, Mrs. Hart reached forward and shook hers. "I am Briallen, and this is my husband, Clive."

"Nice to meet you both."

Whom she assumed were Ethan's parents, shuffled closer. His father had his eyes while his mother's eyebrow twitched in a mischievous way that was all too familiar. "Ivor Black," the man shook Hazel's hand.

"I'm Harla, and I am a hugger, Miss Marlowe." His wife said as she pulled Hazel into a crushing hug.

Hazel stiffened at first, but the warmth of the crushing embrace forced a laugh from her lungs. This woman was inarguably Ethan's mother. Something about her nature made Hazel's eyes burn, and she tightened her grip. Mrs. Black appeared to sense Hazel's shift in emotions and rubbed reassuringly over her spine.

"Thank you all for ... coming." Hazel choked out the words, pulling away. Her eyes sunk to her ridiculously fancy shoes. It wasn't like they had much more of a choice than she did. "I am so sorry .... They were both so....special...I can't... I'm so sorry."

Harla's eyes grew misty while Ivor looped an arm around his wife.

Ruby's mother approached Hazel and placed two gentle hands on her shoulders. Briallen was petite, but her voice carried as she spoke, "We know we aren't the only ones who've paid the price of the games."

Hazel's eyes burned harder, and she battled with the sudden rising tide of grief. An understanding passed between them. These people knew how she felt, and something about it melted her heart.

"Can't have our Victor blubbering, now can we?" Augustus's slimy voice chilled the heat of her burgeoning tears. Turning to her side, Trask was suddenly beside her, his toothy smile plastered in place. The cool air practically boiled between Ruby and Ethan's family members and Augustus.

Briallen's face shifted into a dim stare as she backed away and gripped the hands of her husband and daughter.

The blue-haired man slid even closer to Hazel, replacing Briallen's grip on her shoulder. "She still has a speech to give, after all."

The families before her had clearly no love lost for the man. Even Amethyst slid her body slightly behind her mother's skirts.

But of all the people before her, it was Ethan's mother whose features were the most terrifying. The woman's eyes had dilated, and her features darkened. She looked like a mountain lion, ready to pounce. Her blown-out pupils settled on the hand latched onto Hazel's shoulder. If Harla could set Augustus on fire with a look, he would be in flames.

Hazel slid from under his touch, "Yeah, I would love to talk with you all more. Maybe after?"

The people before her seemed to agree silently.

Sable moved to Hazel's rescue, guiding her away from Augustus's grasp. Within a few strides, they were at the base of the steps. Bellona extended a hand toward Indira as they neared. Indira, though completely at home in her heels, accepted the peacekeeper's assistance.

The stage bore the scuffs and grooves of many years of abuse. It looked to be sturdy Ashwood.- While the woodgrain was familiar, what was unfamiliar—and most unwelcome—were the heels.

Sable extended an arm and she hurriedly grasped it with a whispered thanks. Together, they reached the top, where two figures were waiting. Mayor Lipp stood to one side, he was still squat and still freckled. Though his hopelessly outdated suit no longer strained against his frame. There had been stories of the Mayor's supposed descent into madness after the death of his daughter. His haunted eyes and trembling hands lent credence to the theories.

He was flanked by his wife, a tall, gaunt woman with hollow eyes and a soured twist to her lips. They exchanged no words, merely looking on with resignation.

Indira led the way to the microphone, her shoulders relaxing when she took center stage. Hazel watched as her escort transformed. The woman who had become her friend was replaced by a true Capitol emissary. Indira's kohl-rimmed eyes seemed larger, and when she spoke, her voice carried to the edges of the town center.

"Good afternoon, District Twelve. What a beautiful day for us to be gathered here in celebration."

Hazel scanned the muted sky and colors, as well as the chilling breeze sweeping through the coal-washed landscape. District Twelve could be described in many ways, but beautiful was a stretch.

"Today, we celebrate the Victor of the 15th Hunger Games. Miss Hazel Marlowe from District Seven. She traveled all the way from her home last night to be here with you all. She has a few words she would like to say. Would you all give her a warm welcome?"

A few smatterings of applause hung in the air as Hazel moved toward the microphone. Her stupid heels clicked loudly while her nerves grew closer to the cliff of full-blown panic.

Indira pulled a sheet of paper from her pocket, handing it to Hazel as she leaned closer. "Good luck, dear. You'll do great."

The Capitol cameras zeroed in on her as she held the speech in her unsteady hold. The pink bandage scraped against the paper in an unnerving way.

"Citizens of District Twelve," Hazel began, staring down at the speech like a lifeline in a raging ocean. Her palms had grown damp, and the paper stuck to her skin. "It is an honor to stand here today as part of this Victory Tour. District Twelve holds a vital place in the strength of Panem. Your efforts fuel not only your district but the entire nation. It is my pleasure to be able to start my Victory Tour here." The words felt stiff and stale, like trying to chew dry, old bread when all you wanted to do was spit it out. "This Victory Tour is a chance to honor the fallen and remember the sacrifices made for the peace we now live in. I stand before you today, not only as a Victor but as a reminder of unity and order. Through the Hunger Games, we find peace and prosperity—"

Her throat tightened while her gaze flickered toward the crowd, scanning the faces. Harla Black had her hands intertwined with her husband's, her knuckles pale. Her words churned in her gut like lead. "—that only the Capitol ensures.

She glanced down at the page, then back at the crowd—their faces muddling together, except for Amethyst's. The girl's wide eyes held hers for a moment. And then Hazel saw it.

Over the girl's shoulder, a painfully familiar face took shape. She had innocent grey eyes, chestnut brown hair, and an unnatural pink bandage over her arm, but it was not pristine like everyone else.

A layer of fresh blood had seeped through, dripping down the girl's arm and weaving through her fingers. Her delicate neck was littered with discoloration, which was more prominent as she tilted her head at Hazel's silence.

Hazel went rigid, though her heart rate spiked. The last time she had laid eyes on Ruby, she was folding the girl's frigid arms over her unbeating heart.

And only once before had one of her ghosts penetrated her reality. A sob caught in her throat. Maybe Dr Savi was right... It's getting worse. 'Rosemary. Rosemary.' She mouthed.

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Leo inching forward. Sable was quick to whisper in his ear, halting his movements. The cameras rolled on, but the speech suddenly felt even more absurd. Indira wrung her hands, and Bellona gave her a reassuring look. Festus raked his fingers through his curls.

What color is the sky?

Hazel tore her attention from all of them and instead studied the horizon. It was a sickly bleached blue, choked by airborne coal dust. The shade was reminiscent of Augustus's fading braid. He watched her like someone amused by a flailing goldfish caught in the shallows. Everything as planned? The phrase soared through her mind, igniting a fissure that split through her restraint.

"I..." Hazel swallowed, the word scraping against her vocal cards.

Hazel breathed in, refocusing on Harla. "Ethan was the bravest boy I've ever known." Her lips quivered as memories of him disappearing under a spider monstrosity filled her mind. Harla's eyes glistened as Hazel continued, "From the little time I knew him, it was clear he loved as fiercely as he handled a bow. He saved my life," she said, her voice louder now. "And Ruby's."

The dead girl's stare met Hazel's again, "And Ruby—" her breath hitched. She held up her pink-covered hand. Her attention shifted to Amethyst and then her parents, "You have every right to be proud of such a girl."

Hazel moved her focus to the rest of the District, "It isn't just their families who should take pride in being represented by tributes so brave. All of District Twelve should. They weren't even my official allies, yet of all the other tributes in that arena, I owe them the most." Her gaze then fell to the golden medal resting against her heart. "I owe them my life. My... Victory even."

A ripple passed through the crowd.

"I swear, I will never forget them." Her eyes met the bleeding girl in the crowd once again. Ruby's face softened, a couple of glistening tears washed down her young cheeks. "Their sacrifices were not in vain, and I promise to the best of my ability to honor their lives." Searching the faces of each of their parents, she continued. "They will remain closer to my heart than any medal ever will." The crowd was like a rusty faucet being turned on. They sputtered in smatters of clapping at first until, given a few minutes, the rest burst forth in applause.

She swallowed down a wave of tears, wincing down at the speech. It was basically unsalvageable. She needed to somehow wrap it up without being hung afterward. Scanning the abandoned words, she skipped to the end and picked up reading, " Ruby Hart and Ethan Black demonstrated extraordinary bravery in the arena. They remind us all that our sacrifices, no matter how great, serve the greater good. In unity, we endure. In sacrifice, we thrive. May we never lose sight of that truth. We should all honor the sacrifices needed to ensure our great nation does not slide back into the darkness of the past."

Hazel inclined her head in a shallow bow and stepped back, tucking the speech away. The people's faces shifted, the hard edges softened, and for the first time, many of them met her eyes without flinching. There was something genuine in the way they looked at her now, a fragile thread connecting their shared suffering. Caged beings recognized one another.

Indira was at the microphone in an instant, thanking everyone for coming out and saying that Hazel would be having dinner with their esteemed Mayor. She ended it with a quick quip about looking forward to next year.

Leo disentangled himself from Sable and Bellona. He was at Hazel's side in moments, his hand brushing lightly against her elbow as he guided her toward the stage steps. A whisper slid from his lips as he escorted her back down to the cobblestone street, "Should've known you weren't going to make this easy."

Hazel murmured back under her breath, "Think of it as job security, Drayton."

His eyes met hers for a split second. "Not my security I'm worried about."

Festus reached her next, gripping her shoulder, shaking it in clear approval, "Bold."

Her group began to move toward the Mayor's home as she turned to him, "Think so?"

Festus winked at her, "Hell yeah." He cast a glance at Augustus, "I think you royally pissed off our new Gamemaker." He turned back to her, "Honestly, I'm jealous."

Hazel shared a smirk with him while Augustus fell into stride beside them, "Well, that was...unexpected."

"I've been told that is my defining trait." Hazel tore her eyes from the steaming man.

Augustus's face grew pointed, "I agree, one of several. Gaul sending me here was apparently more than prudent."

"Let's get you to the Mayor's house for dinner." Indira tugged on her arm, trying to pull her away from the frightening man.

"Wait." Hazel pulled back on her arm, searching for the families in the crowd. Ruby's ghost had dissipated. "I want the Harts and the Blacks to join us for dinner."

Festus and Indira shared a look while Augustus ran a hand over his face. A part of her warmed at the idea of causing the man even a minor amount of aggravation.

"Dear...." Indira started.

"I'm going to have to insist," Hazel replied before Indira could make her argument.

Festus hid a smile behind a fist, tapping at his lips.

Augustus leaned closer, "That isn't typically allowed."

"There's nothing typical about any of this." Hazel challenged lowly, "Besides, we all know you, of all people, could care less about what is allowed."