The anthem fades, and the room settles into a tense silence as the announcement echoes in everyone’s minds: the Plinth Prize would no longer go to the highest academic achiever. Instead, it would go to the best mentor—someone who could turn their district’s tribute into a Capitol spectacle.

Coriolanus sits beside you, his gaze fixed on the stage with a calculating expression. On your other side, Sejanus stares at the floor, fists clenched, the weight of his assignment—District 2's boy tribute, Marcus—settling heavily on him. You’re caught between the two of them, feeling trapped in a space that suddenly feels too close, too loud.

You glance up at the screens, and your heart sinks as the image of Sabyn, the girl from District 2, flashes across it. Her face is hardened but young, her eyes flickering with fear that she tries to mask. The realization hits you like a blow: you know her, grew up with her, shared the same streets and customs. And now she’s yours to parade for the Capitol’s entertainment.

A tear slips down your cheek, and you quickly swipe it away, your breathing shallow as you fight to keep your composure. You can feel Coriolanus watching you, his gaze sharp, observant. The weight of it all—Sabyn, the Capitol’s demands, this twisted game—is more than you can contain.

“Why does it matter so much?” he asks, his tone almost clinical, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “She’s just… another tribute, isn’t she?”

You turn to him, your face a mixture of anger and sorrow, but he suddenly pauses, his smirk fading. Realization flickers in his eyes as he remembers: you’re from District 2, too. You and Sejanus.

“You… you knew her?” he asks, the faintest trace of hesitation in his voice.