The unlocking and pulling open of the door jarred Hazel from her nightmare-fueled insomnia. Groaning, she glanced at Silus, who was also stirring awake. The room was still bathed in the cool blue tones of the soft pre-dawn light.
"Get up, you two," came Leo's muffled voice, breaking through the morning stillness. Hazel rubbed her eyes, her fingers brushing away the remnants of sleep. She peered at the window, where the sky outside certainly looked earlier than eight in the morning.
"What's going on?" she called out, her voice still heavy with sleep. She swung her legs over the side of the bed; the coolness of the floor met her bare feet. Leo's expression was all business, his eyes betraying no warmth.
"Get up and meet me outside in 10 minutes," he instructed, not bothering to offer any explanation. With that, he turned and left as quickly as he had entered.
In a flurry of motion, Hazel and Silus hurried to get ready. Haze examined Silus' stitches, relieved to find them clean and holding well. The previous redness and swelling had thankfully subsided. "Just keep babying it until the Games," she advised.
Silus nodded, moving his hand in ginger motions as he dressed. "Why do you think he's waking us up this early?" he asked, his brow furrowing with concern.
Hazel paused, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear as she contemplated. "Maybe he's punishing us for the suture kit," she suggested. They both moved with a sense of urgency, knowing that Leo wouldn't appreciate them being late.
The grand living room of the Manor buzzed with a mix of fatigue and anticipation. Tributes from various districts milled around, some stifling yawns and rubbing sleep from their eyes while others grappled with the lingering effects of last night's festivities. Among them, the District Two tributes, notably Caleb, bore the telltale signs of overindulgence, their usual poise dulled by evident weariness.
Hazel and Silus joined the group, weaving through the sleepy crowd to find Leo. Percy, the Head Peacekeeper, stood at the front, his presence commanding attention.
"Good morning, Sunshines!" Percy's greeting was laced with a jovial undertone. "You' all are looking exceptionally spirited this morning." His gaze flickered towards Caleb, his words light and teasing. "Perhaps a bit too much enjoyment last night, eh, Two? I'd suggest grabbing some water – today's not the day for hangovers."
Percy's expression shifted to one of amused sternness, his dark eyes sparkling with an almost mischievous glint. "Now, as much as I enjoy our early morning gatherings, today's an extra special occasion. We're off to see the new arena, bright and early. The early bird gets the worm, after all. And just between us," he added with a sly grin, "although I might consider y'all the worms in this scenario. Let's make this quick, folks. Grab a bite and hustle to the buses. No dawdling – we've got a big day ahead."
The tributes exchanged looks. The reality of what lay ahead weighed on some, while others appeared to embrace the challenge with a sense of grim determination. Warm nausea melted over her at the mention of the arena.
The kitchen was set up with an array of neatly arranged pre-packaged snacks. The air was filled with the aroma of fresh baked goods and ripe fruits. Hazel weaved her way through the other tributes, reaching for a ripe banana, its skin a perfect, blemish-free yellow. She selected a granola bar as well, its wrapper crinkling in her hand as she picked up an extra one for Silus.
The tributes, each clutching their chosen snacks, filed onto the buses in an orderly fashion. Hazel settled into a seat next to Silus, handing him a banana and granola bar. They both unwrapped their food, the sound of packaging being torn open mingling with the soft hum of the bus engine.
As the bus began to move, the tributes sat in a tired, hungover silence. She stared at the food on her lap, her appetite lost to the anxiety that gnawed at her insides. She finally handed her banana to Silus as well, who accepted it with a nod.
The bus rumbled on, the world outside still veiled in darkness. A few feeble rays of early morning light began to peek through the thick clouds, casting a faint glow on the landscape. Hazel's stomach remained clenched, a knot of unease that refused to loosen its grip.
As the bus doors finally opened, a rush of cool, crisp air swept through, offering a reprieve from the oppressive atmosphere within. The scent of earth and dew hung in the air, carried by the breeze. Hazel and Silus stepped off the bus, their feet sinking into the damp ground beneath them.
Before them, the expansive field stretched out as far as the eye could see, a sea of lush, vibrant green merged seamlessly with the pale sky on the distant horizon. The grass swayed in the breeze, creating a soothing, rhythmic rustling sound. The pre-dawn light cast a soft, bluish hue over the landscape.
Camera crews were scattered across the field, their equipment arranged and ready for action. The bulky cameras, gleaming with a polished sheen, were poised on their tripods, capturing the eerie pre-dawn scene. Bright lights mounted on the rigs pierced the morning's dimness, casting stark beams that cut through the dusky blue hues of the early hour. The crews, dressed in black with discreet Capitol logos, moved with efficiency, their lenses honed in on the young tributes with unyielding focus.
The sky held a tranquil blue hue, a delicate canvas that was neither night nor day, a moment suspended in the balance of dawn. The tributes huddled together, their eyes darting around the expansive surroundings. The lush grass beneath their feet glistened with dewdrops, each blade adorned with the sparkling remnants of the night. The peacekeepers formed a tight and vigilant perimeter, their gazes never leaving the tributes.
Hazel leaned closer to Silus, her voice a whisper. "If they're seriously going to make us fight in a field, I'm going to be disappointed."
A short distance away, Dr. Gaul and Senator Snow stood, observing the scene with interest. Dr. Gaul was dressed in a bright purple formal coat and pants, her teeth gleaming. Senator Snow wore a maroon suit, the ever-present white flower on his lapel. The privileged ticket holders flanked them.
Hazel observed that they, too, looked somewhat weary. The quick turnaround from the lavish party to this early morning event was evident in their slightly haggard expressions. Despite the tiredness that clouded their faces, there was an unmistakable air of excitement among them. Festus, his brown curls bounced as he conversed with a group of fellow elite. Persephone, her warm chestnut hair styled in a long ponytail, stood nearby, scanning the field. Augustus leaned towards Snow and appeared to be whispering to him, his dark tan eyes focused.
After a prolonged silence, one of the ticket holders, clad in a sharp suit, finally voiced the question everyone had been pondering. "Where exactly is this arena, and what are we doing standing in the middle of a field?" His voice, tinged with impatience, carried across the open space.
Senator Snow allowed a slight, knowing smirk to dance upon his lips as he scanned the expectant crowd. With a calm and measured tone, he addressed the restless audience, his voice resonating through the still morning air, "Patience, everyone. All will be revealed in time."
It was then that Hazel first noticed it—a faint, distant sound was out of place amidst the morning's stillness. At first, it was easy to dismiss as a trick of the wind, but as moments passed, the noise grew louder, more distinct. It was a mechanical whirring, a rhythmic and persistent intrusion into the tranquil atmosphere.
The whirring sound swelled in volume, becoming increasingly unmistakable. As the minutes ticked by, it intensified, filling the air with an undeniable presence. A massive and menacing machine emerged from the horizon like a formidable bird of prey. Its large, rotating blades sliced through the atmosphere, creating a gust of wind that stirred the grass and whipped Hazel's hair about her face.
The once-distant specks on the horizon gradually took shape, causing a sense of awe to ripple through the captivated Capitol audience. The dots transformed into sleek, modern helicopters, their gunmetal-green exteriors glistening in the soft turquoise morning light. Each aircraft bore six rotating blades that sliced through the air with a rhythmic whoosh. With impressive precision, they descended onto the expansive field, landing several yards away from the transfixed spectators.
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Senator Snow's voice cut through the anticipation. "I hope no one here is afraid of heights," he commented with a smile.
As the group began to move towards the helicopters, Snow raised his hand, commanding everyone's attention. The engine's hum faded into the background as he spoke. "One more thing," he announced, his voice clear and authoritative, "Once you're all on board, we'll need to blindfold every passenger. This is to ensure the location of our new arena remains a closely guarded secret, known only to a select few."
A murmur of surprise and curiosity rippled through the crowd, with whispers and exchanged glances between the tributes and the spectators. Nevertheless, they continued their march towards the imposing helicopters, their footsteps muffled by the dew-laden grass beneath their feet. Large windows offered panoramic views of the outside world, and the cabin could easily accommodate several rows of passengers. Hazel and Silus, along with the other passengers, secured themselves with seat belts.
Among the passengers were a couple of camera crew members, their equipment neatly stowed away. One of the camera persons, a protest evident in their tone, "Why are we being blindfolded? We're the press."
Leo, standing nearby, responded with unwavering authority, "The rule applies to everyone, including the press. The arena's location is top-secret, and we intend to keep it that way."
As the peacekeepers ensured that each passenger was blindfolded before takeoff, a tangible unease settled among the tributes. Some of them shifted uncomfortably in their seats, their faces betraying a mixture of nerves and curiosity.
In the dim interior of the helicopter, Leo moved with a sense of purpose, his expression shrouded in the shadows of the cabin. He held two pieces of crimson fabric, and his actions were deliberate as he approached Silus. Carefully, he secured the blindfold over Silus's eyes, ensuring it was snug and effective.
Finally, he turned his attention to Hazel. As he leaned in to secure her blindfold, her voice, barely audible over the thrum of the helicopter's engines, carried a hint of vulnerability as she whispered, "I promise we are telling the truth."
There was a momentary pause in Leo's movements, an unspoken exchange of emotions lingering in the air. Then, with a subtle but undeniable firmness, he tightened the blindfold around Hazel's eyes. His voice, a low murmur, carried a hint of warning as he instructed, "Be quiet."
Hazel was engulfed in darkness, the fabric of the blindfold pressed roughly against her skin. Leo’s fading steps blended into the rhythmic hum of the helicopter's blades cutting through the air.’
Hazel leaned back into her seat. With her sight obscured, her other heightened. The sound of fellow tributes' steady breathing filled the space, interspersed with the occasional shuffle of shoes against the helicopter's metallic floor. The scent of granola bars and fresh fruit mingled with the faint, sour note of hangover. Each heartbeat thudded in her ears.
The next several hours were a new experience for Hazel. The sensation of being lifted off the ground was disorienting, especially while blindfolded. The helicopter's gentle sway and the whirring of its blades created a mix of terror and an odd sense of calm. As time passed, which felt like hours, everyone inside, including the tributes and the peacekeepers, remained silent.
Hazel experienced a sensation she couldn't quite name. It was as if the helicopter itself was hesitating in the air, a sporadic jostling that disrupted the rhythmic hum of the flight. Each unexpected shift sent a jolt through her body, her stomach lurching as if caught off guard. It was as if she were floating on an invisible ocean, waves of air buffeting the helicopter with invisible hands.
Gradually, a shift in the helicopter's movement caught her attention as it changed pace. The once steady hum of the blades slowed. A peacekeeper's voice, clear and firm, broke the silence, "OK, everybody, blindfolds off." Hazel's fingers fumbled with the fabric, peeling it away from her eyes. Light flooded her vision as she squinted, adjusting to the brilliant rays of the morning sun that pierced through the helicopter's windows. She blinked, taking in the awe-inspiring expanse of land unfolding below them.
The view outside was nothing short of breathtaking. Beneath them lay a vast, rugged landscape that stretched endlessly toward the distant horizon, bordered by the vast expanse of an unforgiving ocean. The sea met the land with a dramatic clash against steep, rocky cliffs that rose from the turbulent waters. These cliffs, like jagged teeth, seemed to bite into the heavens, forming an impregnable barrier that encircled the entire island. Hazel's gaze followed the rugged coastline, tracing the sheer drop-offs and the relentless, frothy waves crashing against the island's edge.
The helicopters circled the area, offering a panoramic view of the isolated and untouched terrain below. The sheer size was nothing short of overwhelming—a vast canvas of untamed wilderness. Where was the arena? Was this expansive and barren land really the culmination of three years of development and "vision"?
Another helicopter in the distance had started its descent onto the jagged landscape. The surface below was harsh and unforgiving, with no apparent level ground in sight that could accommodate even a single helicopter, let alone several.
As the questions swirled within Hazel's mind, she finally saw it. At first, it was merely a slight distortion, a subtle inconsistency in the rugged landscape, that struck her as oddly out of place. But as the helicopter continued its descent, the truth became undeniable. Sparkling anomalies began to appear, shimmering like mirages against the backdrop of the otherwise rocky and wild terrain. It was as if the very air itself was rippling, revealing a colossal dome that had remained invisible from a distance.
The vast and shimmering dome blended with the natural landscape, and Hazel realized it must have been invisible to anyone not directly above it. The dome, with its advanced camouflage, was not just a boundary for the arena but a masterpiece of illusion and engineering. Its camouflaging mechanism was so sophisticated that the dome blended seamlessly with the surrounding environment when viewed from afar. It was as if the island had been transformed into an illusion hidden beneath a veil of nature itself.
The structure was nothing short of awe-inspiring. Its immense scale had to span 15 to 20 miles in diameter, encompassing the entirety of the island beneath its vast, translucent curvature.
As the helicopter lowered, the dome's intricacies became more apparent. The outer surface mimicked the landscape it concealed, creating a mirage of lush greenery and rocky cliffs. It was as if the dome possessed the ability to project the island's natural features onto its exterior, rendering it invisible to anyone who might approach it.
The top of the dome began to open. It parted like an eggshell being carefully cracked, a narrow aperture widening just enough to allow their helicopters to pass through. Dread and awe enveloped her as they descended through the opening.
Hazel's breath caught as she saw the scene unfold before her eyes. The heart of the arena was a grassy area shaped like a twelve-sided star. Each of its sides transitioned into a variety of unique environments, as if pieces of different worlds had been stitched together into a vast patchwork. It became evident that the scope of this artificial environment was staggering. Each of the twelve distinct sections radiated outward from the central grassy star, stretching for miles in every direction. The farthest reaches of each section faded into a distant haze, hinting at the enormity of the space they occupied.
The colossal dome loomed hundreds of feet over the arena and eclipsed the sky. To one side, a panorama of rolling hills and elevated plateaus stretched out. Meandering rivers broke the rugged terrain, their waters sparkling. This landscape, with its blend of steep inclines and tranquil waterways, formed a striking contrast.
Adjacent to the rolling hills was an arid expanse. Steep cliffs and sparse vegetation dotted this dry environment with minimal foliage and harsh terrain.
In a completely different direction, Hazel's gaze was drawn to a dense forest that reminded her of home. Towering redwood trees with thick underbrush created a dark, almost impenetrable canopy.
On the other side, open plains and fields extended as far as the eye could see. Golden fields of grain waved in the gentle breeze, creating a tranquil and inviting scene.
On another edge of the star, coastal landscapes beckoned with their rugged beauty. Sandy beaches transitioned to cliffs, leading down to an ocean expanse.
And in yet another section, a desert landscape unfurled with its distinctive red rock formations. Deep canyons and towering, thirsty mesas marked it.
As they descended fully into the arena, the grass below swayed and danced under the force of the wind, a sea of green rippling endlessly. The sound of the rotors, a deep and constant hum, softened as the helicopters touched down on the soft earth. The aroma of the arena was fresh and natural, offering a refreshing change from the sterile confines of the Capitol. It was a blend of earth, wildflowers, and the faint saltiness carried by the ocean breeze. Hazel stepped out onto the soft, swaying grass.
The area bustled with activity. Dr. Gaul, in her bright purple attire, stood confidently, her eyes gleaming in the sunlight. Surrounding her were the ticket holders, their faces alight with excitement and curiosity, taking in the grandeur of the arena.
Among the multitude of people, Hazel took in some of the familiar faces—Mags, with her golden wavy hair flowing down her back in a long braid; Ian Threader, his eyes scanning the area with a calculating gaze; and Ruby, her youthful face filled with an innocent fascination. The peacekeeper formed a protective circle around the tributes.
Camera crews scurried about, capturing every moment of this historic occasion. Their excitement was visible, their lenses focusing on the tributes and the stunning arena.
As Hazel absorbed the scene, a profound realization struck her. This beautiful death trap would be the stage of her final moments. The thought caused her an involuntary shiver. This was the place where she would fight for her life and most likely where she would breathe her last breath. It was a surreal experience, walking through one’s own grave.
Her introspection was interrupted as Senator Snow's gaze found hers across the field. His piercing blue eyes held hers in a silent exchange. The intensity of his stare caused her to look away, a knot of unease tightening in her stomach.
Dr. Gaul, in her bright purple attire, radiated an air of triumph as she stepped into the sunlight. With a flourish, she extended her arm towards the sprawling arena, her voice resonating with pride and anticipation. "Welcome to the beginning of a new era," she declared, her words reverberating through the assembled crowd, marking the dawn of a new chapter in the saga of the Hunger Games.