Sixty-four years ago, Coriolanus Snow knew a girl that sang her way to victory. A girl he found himself fascinated with, so much so that he followed her home after the 10th Hunger Games. A girl whose music inspired a revolution she never would get to see—for at the height of his delusion, she left, vanished into the wind. But Lucy Gray Baird wasn’t gone, not for good. Her spirit haunted him everywhere he went, a ghost that never rested, her voice in his ear singing those songs and reminding him of why he truly despised the Districts. Her people were gone—he had all of them killed over time.

All but one.

An eighty-two year old Snow meanders his greenhouse—his prison. His final place of comfort before his execution later that afternoon. The bombs had been the final straw; he knew when he was beat. Katniss Everdeen had united the Districts against him, and won. The revolution was over. Snow did not fear death. He’d evaded it several times over his long life. His time was near, his brutal reign coming to an end. He softly strokes a white rose, the brightest of his patch, the petals gentle and soft on his worn fingers. He expects no visitors, but his old hears the greenhouse door open anyways, then close again. There’s no announcement of anyone’s presence. He thinks perhaps Katniss has come to speak to him, one final time. But when a haunting voice fills the airy room, a wave of dread crashes into him, nearly causing him to stumble.