Chapter One — The Day the Sky Went Quiet
The morning of the Reaping began the same way every terrifying year did: with a sky that looked too still, like the clouds were holding their breath. Sixteen-year-old Hayley Woods woke before sunrise, her heart already moving faster than her mind. She could feel the tension in the air the way animals sense storms—silent, heavy, impossible to ignore.
Her family’s home was small, crammed in the far corner of District Eleven-Delta, one of the agricultural districts forced to feed the Capitol. The wooden floorboards creaked beneath her bare feet as she got up, careful not to wake her little sister, Mae, who slept curled against the wall, her dark curls spread across the pillow like a halo.
Hayley paused for a moment, watching Mae’s soft breaths rise and fall. She wished she could freeze this moment. Keep Mae safe forever. But wishing had never changed anything in the Empire.
From the kitchen, she heard their mother moving around quietly—soft clinks of metal, the slow scrape of a spoon. Hayley slipped out of the bedroom, closed the door softly behind her, and stepped into the kitchen.
Her mother looked up, her tired eyes already lined with worry.
“You’re up early,” she said gently. “Couldn’t sleep?”
Hayley shook her head. “Did anyone?”
Her mother sighed, pressing a cracked ceramic mug into her hands. Inside was weak tea—nothing strong, but warm. “Drink. You’ll need something in your stomach.”
Outside, a siren wailed in the distance, signaling that everyone needed to prepare for the Reaping ceremony. Hayley swallowed tightly. Even after sixteen years of hearing that sound, it still made her hands shake.
Her mother reached out, brushing a loose strand of hair from Hayley’s face. “You’ve been braver than you know,” she whispered.
Hayley forced a smile she didn’t feel. “I’m not brave.”
“You are,” her mother said firmly. “Brave isn’t about not being scared. It’s about standing up even when you are.”
Before Hayley could respond, a soft knock came from the back door.
She opened it to find Jordan Chase, his sandy-brown hair slightly damp from the morning mist, hands shoved awkwardly in his jacket pockets. He looked nervous—the kind of nervous that settled in your bones and refused to leave.
“Hey,” he said quietly.
“Hey.”
Jordan had been Hayley’s best friend since they could walk, but this year everything felt different—tense, fragile, unspoken. Maybe it was because they were both sixteen now, officially eligible for the Ashen Trials. Maybe it was because Hayley had started noticing the softness in his smile, or how he always positioned himself between her and danger even when danger was just a loud noise.
Or maybe it was because something between them had shifted—small, slow, but real.
“You ready?” Jordan asked, though his voice suggested he already knew the answer.
“Not even a little,” Hayley said.
He gave a soft, breathy laugh. “Me neither.”
They walked together through the dirt path leading toward the town square. Children, parents, and elders all shuffled in the same direction, their faces shadowed with dread. Peacekeepers in sleek steel-gray armor stood at every corner, weapons visible, expressions blank.
As Hayley and Jordan reached the square, the stage loomed ahead—massive, polished, too bright for such a grim event. Capitol banners hung on both sides, sharp reds and silvers that clashed with the dusty district around them.
“You think your name will be called?” Jordan asked suddenly.
Hayley swallowed. “I hope not. But with all the ration slips I had to take this year… my odds aren’t great.”
Jordan’s jaw tightened. “If they call you, I—”
He stopped.
She looked up at him. “You what?”
Jordan opened his mouth, hesitated, then said instead, “Never mind. It doesn’t matter.”
But it did matter. Hayley could hear the words he wasn’t saying.
If they call you, I’d volunteer.
And that terrified her more than anything.
The crowd settled as Ambassador Lira Solene, the Capitol’s representative, glided onto the stage in a sparkling silver gown that looked like it could slice skin if you touched it.
“Welcome, citizens of District Eleven-Delta!” she chimed, her voice falsely sweet. “Today, we gather to honor the sacred tradition of the Ashen Trials—the ultimate test of strength, resilience, and loyalty to our beloved Empire!”
No one clapped. No one even breathed loudly.
Ambassador Solene reached into the first glass bowl—the one filled with names of every girl aged twelve to eighteen.
Hayley felt Jordan’s fingers brush against hers.
She didn’t pull away.
The Ambassador lifted a slip, eyes lighting up as if she’d picked the winner of a lottery.
“This year’s female tribute is…”59Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡMUmaKmm2SN
She paused dramatically.
“Hayley Woods!”
The world tilted.59Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡQ3TqR275HN
Mae’s face flashed in her mind.59Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡzdQ1Vk4Jo6
Her mother’s hands trembling.59Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡj8CbzfForB
Jordan’s quiet gasp beside her.
Hayley’s breath caught in her throat as the crowd slowly parted, all eyes turning to her.
Jordan’s hand closed around her wrist, firm, desperate.
“Hayley—don’t go up there alone,” he whispered.
But she had no choice.
She stepped forward, her legs numb, her pulse roaring in her ears. Each step felt like walking through wet cement.
She climbed the stairs.
Then Ambassador Solene moved to the bowl of male names.
She pulled one quickly, without theatrics this time.
“And the male tribute for this year’s Ashen Trials is… Jordan Chase!”
Hayley froze.
Jordan stood still for one breath, then another.
Then—59Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡMEWAxWJdaY
He looked at her.59Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ6twCObvS2e
And smiled. Soft. Certain. Almost peaceful.
“I guess you’re not doing this alone after all,” he whispered before walking toward the stage.
Hayley’s heart broke in a way she didn’t know hearts could.
As he joined her onstage, his shoulder brushed hers.
Two tributes.59Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡAJentX7ImP
One arena.59Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡdfvNubXub4
A cruel government watching.59Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡu5znLpViun
And only one victor allowed.
Hayley swallowed hard.
She wasn’t letting Jordan die for her.59Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡlOqRxAzvUM
If she had to survive the Ashen Trials…59Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ7Lua7SysCk
If she had to tear down the Empire itself…
So be it.
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Chapter Two — The Train to the Capitol
The moment Hayley and Jordan were escorted off the stage, the noise of the crowd faded into a hollow, distant buzz. Peacekeepers guided them down a metal hallway behind the platform, their armor clanking with each step. Hayley’s legs felt numb—like she was floating, not walking.
A door slammed shut behind them, and suddenly the two of them were alone in a stark white goodbye room.
“Five minutes,” a Peacekeeper barked before exiting.
Silence settled heavy between them.
Jordan leaned back against the wall, exhaling shakily. Up close, Hayley could see how pale he was beneath his usual warm tone. His eyes held terror, but deeper than that—something protective, something fierce.
He had volunteered for her. Even if he didn’t say the words out loud.
Hayley stepped toward him. “Why did it have to be you?”
Jordan let out a quiet, humorless laugh. “I was asking myself the same thing.”
There was no stopping the inevitable. She felt the truth swirling between them like smoke.
Mae burst into the room first, sobbing, her arms flying around Hayley’s waist. Their mother followed right behind, face streaked with tears she didn’t bother to hide.
“No, no, no,” Mae whispered, clutching her. “You can’t leave me. You promised you’d stay forever.”
Hayley knelt to hold her. “I know, Mae. And I’m coming back. I swear it.”
“You can’t swear that!” Mae cried.
“But I’m doing it anyway.”
Her mother sank beside them, brushing both girls’ hair back. “If anyone can survive, it’s you, Hayley. You’re stronger than you know.”
Hayley swallowed down the lump forming in her throat. “Take care of Mae. Please.”
“I will. And you take care of yourself.”
They held onto each other until the Peacekeepers returned.
“Time’s up.”
Mae’s scream tore through the room as they pulled her away.
Hayley stood, wiping her eyes quickly. She couldn’t look weak—not now.
Jordan’s parents didn’t come. They never did for anything. But just before they were taken out the door, his little brother, Kai, slipped in through the guards’ legs.
Kai hugged Jordan fiercely. “Don’t die,” he whispered. “Please.”
Jordan bent down and squeezed him back. “I’m going to fight to come home. I promise you that.”
Kai nodded, wiping his nose with his sleeve before running off again.
The Peacekeepers ushered them forward.
And the door shut behind them forever.
The Train
Hayley had seen pictures of Capitol trains in textbooks, but they didn’t come close to the real thing. When the doors slid open, a wave of warm, perfumed air engulfed her. Soft golden lights lined the ceiling, and velvet seats wrapped around circular tables piled high with food—fresh fruit, roasted meats, pastries topped with cream.
Jordan stared. “This… doesn’t feel real.”
“Nothing about this is real,” Hayley muttered.
Ambassador Solene appeared again, her dress shimmering like liquid silver. “Welcome, tributes!” she sang. “Do make yourselves comfortable. Eat. Relax. Your mentors will join you shortly.”
Jordan frowned. “Mentors?”
“Yes, your past district victors—”
“Our district hasn’t had a victor in thirteen years,” Hayley said sharply.
Solene blinked dramatically. “Ah, right. Then you’ll meet your appointed mentor.”
She fluttered out of the car before either of them could ask more.
Jordan flopped into a velvet seat. “Do you think any of this is meant to make us feel better?”
Hayley sat across from him. “No. I think it’s meant to make us forget why we’re here.”
She grabbed a piece of fruit—a glossy red apple—and took a slow bite. Juice dripped down her wrist. She wasn’t hungry, but she forced herself to eat. She would need strength.
Jordan reached for a steamed bun, pulling it apart absently. “Hayley?”
“Yeah?”
“I meant what I said earlier. You’re not doing this alone.”
His voice was soft, serious, sure.
Her heart tugged painfully. “You shouldn’t have been picked.”
“I know.” He met her eyes. “But I’m not sorry it was me.”
Before she could respond, the door slid open again.
A tall man with deep-set eyes and messy dark hair stepped inside. His posture was slouched, his expression unreadable. He wore a plain black coat—no Capitol shine, no forced enthusiasm.
“Woods. Chase,” he announced flatly, looking them over. “I’m Silas Crane. I’m your mentor.”
Hayley blinked. She recognized the name. Silas was the last living victor from their district—a man who had won the Ashen Trials when he was only fourteen. He’d been a ghost ever since.
Jordan whispered, “That’s him? I thought he disappeared.”
Hayley did too.
Silas dropped into the seat beside them. “Before either of you say anything, let me make one thing clear: I’m here to prepare you to survive, not to comfort you.”
“We don’t need comfort,” Hayley said quietly.
“Good,” Silas replied. “You won’t get any. The Trials this year—this Fiftieth Anniversary—will be worse. Far worse.”
Jordan’s jaw clenched. “How?”
Silas looked between the two of them, lowering his voice.
“Because for the first time in decades… the arena is rigged so no two tributes can form an alliance without consequences.”
Hayley stiffened.
Silas leaned in closer.
“And the Capitol knows you two are close. They’ll use it against you. So if you want to live… if you want to return to your families…”
His gaze sharpened like a blade.
“…you’ll have to be willing to fight the entire Empire—and maybe each other.”
Hayley’s stomach dropped.
Jordan’s breath caught.
And the train sped on toward the Capitol—toward the arena—toward the death sentence neither of them could escape.
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Chapter Three — Arrival in the Capitol
The train slowed as it approached the Capitol, the windows filling with blinding lights and towering structures Hayley had only ever seen in flickering broadcasts. The skyline shimmered like it was stitched from neon and glass, so tall it felt like it might scrape the clouds.
Jordan leaned forward, pressing his hand against the window. “It’s… huge.”
Hayley didn’t answer. She couldn’t. Her throat felt tight. The Capitol wasn’t beautiful—it was terrifying. A glittering cage made from wealth stolen from every district.
As the train hissed to a stop, Ambassador Solene swept into their car. “Smile, my lovely tributes! The cameras are already waiting.”
Silas snorted. “Ignore her. Don’t start smiling until I tell you to. They love a tragic face.”
The doors opened to a thunderous roar.
Crowds packed the station—Capitol citizens wearing neon coats, glowing makeup, hair sculpted into impossible shapes. They held signs, tossed confetti, shouted for the tributes like they were beloved celebrities instead of doomed children.
Hayley and Jordan stepped onto the platform.
Spotlights swung toward them, blindingly bright.
Hayley sucked in a breath as cheers exploded around them.
“There they are!” someone screamed. “The star-crossed pair from Eleven-Delta!”
“Cute! They look scared!”
Jordan stiffened beside her.
Silas muttered, “Told you. They’re already branding you two.”
Hayley felt it, too. The Capitol had decided on a narrative before she even stepped off the train.
Two tributes. Same district. Same age. Close. Maybe in love.
It made them entertaining.
It made them sellable.
It made them targets.
Hayley tried to focus on the path. On breathing.
Jordan slipped his hand into hers without looking at her.
Not bold. Not romantic.
Just steadying her.
She didn’t let go.
They were ushered into a sleek silver car that whisked them through the Capitol. Streets lined with holograms welcomed the tributes. Screens projected faces of past victors—many of them now dead or broken.
“Why do they celebrate us like this?” Jordan murmured.
Silas didn’t look away from the window. “Because they like to pretend they’re giving you something. A spotlight. A chance. A story. They don’t see you as kids. Just entertainment.”
Hayley exhaled shakily.
They stopped outside a luxurious glass building—District Eleven-Delta’s tower for the Games. Inside, everything glittered. Crystal floors. Floating lanterns. Velvet furniture.
Standing in the middle of the lobby was a woman with bright emerald hair and a dress made entirely of silk leaves.
“I’m Cressida,” she announced grandly. “Your stylist.”
Jordan blinked. “Our… stylist?”
Cressida clapped her hands. “Yes! And I already have the perfect concept for your tribute parade outfits.”
Silas rubbed his temple. “Oh, stars.”
Cressida beamed. “You two will be the Embers of the Fields—fiery, united, unforgettable.”
Hayley’s stomach tightened.
Silas leaned close to her and Jordan. “Listen. In the parade, you need to stand out. The more sponsors you attract, the better chance you have later. So whatever she puts you in, whatever she tells you to do…”
“Do it,” Hayley whispered.
“Exactly.”
Jordan swallowed. “Even if it’s embarrassing?”
“Especially if it’s embarrassing.”
Hayley exchanged a glance with Jordan.
They were about to be displayed like animals in a show.
And this was only the beginning.
Chapter Four — Embers of the Fields
The preparation room was warm, filled with brushes, fabrics, and Capitol machines that hummed softly like distant bees. Hayley sat in a cushioned chair as attendants swarmed around her—painting her nails with copper polish, weaving tiny flickers of gold into her braids, smoothing shimmering ash-dust across her skin.
Jordan was across from her, getting similar treatment. His hair was slightly tousled, sprinkled with metallic dust that made him look like he was glowing.
Hayley tried not to notice how good he looked.
Cressida clapped her hands. “Costumes! Bring them!”
Two attendants carried in outfits made of black fabric that shimmered like embers. Hayley’s had a fitted bodice with swirling patterns that resembled burning vines. Jordan’s shirt matched, with a long black coat lined in glowing threads.
“And the best part…” Cressida said dramatically, “is that these ignite.”
Jordan flinched. “Ignite?”
“Safely, darling! Safely. Tiny flame fibers. They flare without burning. Pure Capitol magic.”
Hayley stepped into her outfit. The fabric felt warm, almost alive. Jordan pulled on his coat, flexing his hands with growing nerves.
Silas entered then, surveying them with a critical eye.
“Well,” he said, “you’ll definitely get attention.”
Cressida preened. “Of course they will.”
The announcement came overhead:59Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡBh1LDCE9aP
“Tributes, prepare for the parade.”
Hayley’s heart throbbed.
Jordan walked up beside her. “Ready?”
“No.”
“Same.”
Their chariot was shaped like a wagon overflowing with glowing wheat stalks. As they climbed aboard, attendants lit the flame fibers in their costumes. A soft burst of orange and gold rolled across their bodies, making them look like they were burning from within.
The crowd roared.
Hayley lifted her chin.
Jordan stepped close enough that his shoulder brushed hers. “Stay by me,” he whispered.
Then the chariot rolled into the stadium.
Spotlights blazed. Fireworks cracked overhead. The announcers screamed praise into the air.
“The Embers of Eleven-Delta!”59Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡTDb5s0sl2a
“Look at the chemistry!”59Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡP0oorKgEzT
“They look unstoppable together!”
Hayley swallowed hard and forced herself to smile—just a little, just enough to seem fierce instead of terrified.
Jordan offered his hand. “We’re supposed to hold hands for the cameras,” he murmured.
“Are we?”
“Cressida told me earlier.”
Hayley hesitated only a second before taking his hand.
The crowd erupted.
Jordan’s fingers tightened around hers. “We’ve got this,” he murmured.
For a moment—one single breath—Hayley believed him.
But as the parade ended and the fire on their costumes slowly faded, she saw the giant screen overhead display their faces.
Side by side.59Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡcerHQqx5sP
A matched pair.59Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ2rSdGND92V
A story the Capitol would cling to.
Hayley realized exactly what the Capitol wanted.
They wanted her heart. Her fear. Her connections.
They wanted to use Jordan against her.
And that terrified her more than anything.
Chapter Five — Training Begins
The next morning started early, the sky outside the tower still dim when Silas barged into their suite.
“Up,” he said simply. “Training starts in thirty minutes. And you can’t afford to be late.”
Hayley threw on the plain black training uniform provided. Jordan did the same, brushing his hair back with his fingers.
As they walked through the halls, Jordan nudged her gently. “You okay?”
She nodded. “Just thinking.”
“About the arena?”
“About everything.”
He didn’t push. He never did when she got like this.
They entered the massive Capitol training center—an arena filled with stations: weapons, climbing structures, survival gear, camouflage screens. Tributes from all districts were scattered around, many already practicing.
Some looked older. Stronger. Deadlier.
Hayley felt Jordan tense beside her.
Silas appeared between them. “Rule number one: Don’t show your strengths too early. Observe first. Learn.”
They spent the morning rotating through stations.
At the knot-tying station, Hayley’s fingers moved quicker than she expected. The instructor raised an eyebrow. “Good. Very good.”
Jordan watched her with a small half-smile. “Remind me not to get on your bad side.”
At the camouflage station, Jordan surprised everyone. He blended into the background with shocking precision, painting shadows across his face with careful strokes.
The instructor muttered, “Impressive. Very impressive.”
Hayley found herself smiling. “You never told me you were good at that.”
He shrugged. “Mae asked me to paint her walls last winter. Guess it stuck.”
But not everything went well.
At the weapons station, Hayley froze. The first time she picked up a knife, her hand trembled too badly to hold it steady.
Jordan tried to step in. Silas stopped him.
“No,” Silas said. “She needs to learn this on her own.”
Hayley inhaled deeply. Focused. Raised the knife again.
Threw.
Missed by three feet.
Jordan winced. “Well… at least you didn’t hit the instructor?”
Hayley groaned.
By lunchtime, they were both exhausted.
As they sat at a long table with plates of Capitol food, Jordan leaned closer.
“You know,” he said softly, “if we stick together in the arena—”
“No,” Hayley whispered quickly. “We can’t talk about that here.”
He blinked. “Why not?”
She glanced around at the cameras hidden in every corner.
“Because they want us to say it,” she murmured. “They want to use it. They always do.”
Jordan nodded slowly. “Then we outsmart them.”
She looked at him. Really looked at him.
He wasn’t the scared boy from the reaping anymore.
He was becoming something else. Something tougher. Sharper.
Something the Capitol would fear if they weren’t so busy trying to control him.
Hayley realized then that staying close to Jordan in the arena might be dangerous…59Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡG87q7Z3oH7
But letting him go would be impossible.
and then Add to home screen.