After the Witch turned and hurriedly left the cottage, the atmosphere was drenched in both relief and tension.

The air held a lingering scent of burnt wood and the faint, eerie aroma of the Witch's yeasty presence. The dim light from the eerie red hues cast long, shifting shadows across the gingerbread walls, heightening the eeriness.

Sonya continued her attempt to climb the wall of weapons. Her movements were unsteady, revealing the toll the ordeal had taken on her. She seemed fixated on a pistol placed at the top of the wall, her eyes determined and desperate.

I stood nearby, still adjusting to the newfound freedom from my restraints. My gaze darted between the crescent-shaped blade and its brass forearm cuff.

The blade resembled a crescent moon, its edges honed to a deadly sharpness, eager to slice through anything in its path. As I gripped the textured handle in the middle, it felt like an extension of my own hand, solid and familiar.

The torn fabric of my sleeve hung loosely from my arm, a vivid reminder of the sharpness of the Witch's fingernails. They had effortlessly cut through the material like a hot knife through butter.

With firm tugs, I tore at the fabric until it ripped from the seam at the shoulder, exposing the length of my bare arm.

I positioned the snug brass cuff on my forearm, securing the blade on the outer part with a magnetic grip. It ensured the blade was always within arm's reach, ready for swift action. I could detach it quickly for close combat, wielding it with precision. The blade's dual sharp edges meant every swing would have a significant impact.

Yet, this weapon could also be thrown like a boomerang. Launched just right, it would cut through the air and return to me, a deadly tool ready for action.

The sound of cranking cogs and moving heavy chains startled me. The wall began to lift back into the rafters from where it came, causing Sonya to slip and hit the ground with a thud.

Regaining her composure, she pushed herself up, wincing as she limped closer to the wall of weapons, determined to reach them before it was too late.

As it lifted, inch by inch, she yanked a wooden club with menacing metal spikes from the wall with an audible huff. And instead of rushing out of the cottage to pursue the Witch, she swung the weapon. The end of it missed me by a sliver, embedding itself into the wood behind me.

"What are you doing?" I backed away, putting considerable space between us.

She struggled to pull the club from the wall as it continued to rise. "I'm playing the game, and I'm playing to win."

Was she seriously trying to kill me? The idea momentarily stunned me, but I promptly shook it from my mind, reminding myself of our circumstances and the ruthless rules of this twisted game—only one, or one set of siblings, could survive.

"What about your brother?" I pointed out. "Don't you want to find him? You can't kill me. You need me to help."

"I've made it this far without anyone, including him. He hates me and wants me dead. They only brought him in to screw with me." She tugged the club again, but it refused to budge. "But I'm winning this entire thing and getting out of this country no matter what I have to do."

"Getting out of the country?" My eyes narrowed as I reminded myself that relocating to a private location outside of the country was one of the winning perks alongside the jackpot. "Is that why you signed up for the Games, so you can escape accountability for murder?"

"I didn't murder anyone!" she cried out. "That's what those lying producers want you to believe. It was an accident. I looked away for one second, and when I looked back, little Abigail was choking on a small toy. I tried to save her. I did everything I could. I would never hurt my baby niece on purpose, but no one wants to hear that."

Finally, I spotted remorse in her eyes as her glossy brown spheres refused to settle on me. "Your niece? Tobias's daughter?"

"That's none of your business." She glared after realizing she had said too much. It was clear the words had slipped out beyond her control, revealing more than she had intended.

"I believe you, Sonya." I nodded firmly. Although holding her accountable within the legal system would be best, I couldn't deny that branding her a murderer for an accidental death was an extreme claim. "I believe you wouldn't purposefully harm a child, especially your own niece. And I believe Arcanum will twist the truth to manipulate us. That's why I need your help to put a stop to these games."

"That's not gonna happen." She shook her head and picked up her shoes from the mulch covered ground. "I'm not risking my life to get you closer to your goals. That's not why I'm here."

Her mind was set, but I was determined to change it. "The people behind the Games know your vulnerabilities. They know your only way out of this country is through them, and they use that for their benefit. Bringing your brother in so late in the game was meant to fluster you. They did the same to me. They knew my sister impersonated me to get here, and they used that to lure me in."

She hastily snatched a switchblade just before the weapon wall rose out of reach. "I can't help you." Her gaze rested on my weapon, as if contemplating whether to challenge me or give up.

"But you can!" I insisted, speaking over the sound of gears in motion. "I need your smarts, your skills. I'll even overlook the fact you tried to kill me because there's always strength in numbers. Together, with your brother and my sister, we can bring this operation down."

"Sounds like a thing an activist would say." She cradled her shoes in her arms like an infant and limped back toward the only exit. "Good luck with that." Her sarcasm was apparent as she turned and disappeared through the door.

I hurriedly put on my shoes and moved towards the creaking door. As soon as I swung it open, the red lights inside the cottage went out, shrouding it in darkness, a heavy silence, and a chilling cold.

I darted into the midst of the dense trees, their eerie resemblance to the enchanted forest was not welcoming. Amidst the darkness, a distant blue light bathed the surroundings like a full moon in the night.

I strained my eyes, attempting to peer through the dense trees for any sign of Sonya or the Witch, but I could not see anyone through the sea of vegetation. Sonya had to be nearby, yet she clearly didn't want to be found.

The trees bore bright red apples, and as I cautiously made my way through, pondering my sister's whereabouts and the best route to evade the Witch, a gnawing thirst and hunger tugged at my insides.

The apples were tempting, but trust was rare in this place. Still, I needed sustenance to carry on. This seemed like the perfect moment to test the blade and cuff, to familiarize myself with the weapon in case I needed it.

There was no doubt I would need it.

My gaze fixated on a red orb hanging from a branch of a tree before me. I seized the blade, feeling the molded grip fit perfectly in my hand, and swung it towards the fruit.

With little effort, the blade twirled and struck the branch, dislodging the apple. However, the metal got stuck in the tree's trunk, and the tree trembled unnaturally.

A sense of unease crept over me.

I raised my braced arm, feeling the strange magnetic connection between the lengthy brass cuff and the blade. As I tugged my cuffed forearm, the blade shifted within the tree, causing the tree to squirm in an unsettling manner.

The leaves shivered on the many branches, and the apples bobbed, some dropping to the floor to join the rotten apples at the tree's base.

Before I could react to the thud of falling apples, the ground erupted with roots, snaking up from under me, snagging my ankles and yanking me down. I hit the floor with a bone-jarring impact, a scream of terror escaping my lips as the branches swayed and the tree's trunk swelled like a breathing creature.

The creaks and cracks of the splitting bark echoed through the once-silent air, each sound jolting my nerves. I kicked furiously at the roots, but their grip was persistent.

Then, from the center split of the trunk, a frightening, low guttural growl emerged, moaning the word, "Kill..."

My shock was unmistakable, freezing me momentarily. The roots wrapped tighter around my ankles, and branches lunged at me, twigs whipping at my body. Instinctively, I shielded myself with my cuffed arm, and in that moment, the blade loosened from the tree, hurtling toward the cuff with a resounding metallic clink.

Quickly seizing the blade, I slashed at the roots, severing their hold on my legs.

"Kill..." the tree gurgled. The sound similar to a ferocious beast speaking through a mouthful of sticky tree sap.

I continued to slice at the branches and roots that ensnared me, struggling to my feet to escape. But another root shot from the ground, clamping onto my cuffed wrist, keeping me firmly in place.

The tree trunk wobbled and convulsed, contorting in an unsightly manner.

Then, a gurgle escaped from the tree, a haunting plea, "Kill...me." My eyes widened in horror and disbelief at the realization. "Kill...me," it repeated, an anguished request that sent a shiver down my spine.

This place wasn't just a TV set or a game stage, it was something far more. And even though I wasn't prepared, I had to face it.