Other Fan Fiction / Fables/Fairytales Fan Fiction / Realism Fan Fiction ❯ The Melodies of War ❯ Echos of the Song ( Chapter 3 )

“Mother!” I scream, tears running down my face. I run up to her and wrap my arm around her and she returns the hug. She still looked like her sixteen-year-old self. I sob uncontrollably, clinging to my mother, not wanting to let go. My mother kisses the top of my head and pats my back reassuringly. “It’s okay my sweet baby. I’m here, I’m here.” she said, tightening her grip on me. I sob harder, my breath getting caught in my throat. “Mommy, please don’t ever let me go! I don’t want you to!” I choked out, pulling her closer. She just smiles and shakes her head. “Oh, but a ghost must leave at some point, right?” She said. I shake my head and look up at her. “But you’ll still be watching me, right? Because you have unfinished business. Ghosts can’t leave until they tie loose ends. And I’m some those loose ends.” I say, practically pleading. She laughed, kissing my forehead. 

 “Well, you’re right about that. How’s your life with Mayor Arora?” she said, pulling away from the tight embrace and floating off the floor by a few inches. “It... was great. Until I got reaped that is.” I say, hugging myself. My mother’s eyes widen. “What? I thought taking you to the mayor was going to save you from being reaped! Oh, no! I should’ve left you with the Covey. I just wanted you to live in panem. Now you’re in danger of dying and it’s all my fault. This could’ve been avoided.” she said floating over to my bed and sitting on it, hugging her knees. “Oh, mama, it's not your fault. Like I said to father, not even being the mayor's daughter can keep you safe from this cruel system.” I say, trying to comfort her. She shakes her head and sighs. “Mayor Arora is not your biological father, you know that, right?” she said glancing at me. I shake my head, and she chuckles. 

 “Well, I guess it's time to tell you, my story. Sit close, my dear, and let me tell you a story. It’s a tale from long ago, one that stirs my heart even now. It’s about me—your mother, Lucy Gray Baird—and a special friend I had, a lovely little creature named Snow. A story of my life, a tale of love, betrayal, and the darkness that sometimes seeps into our hearts.” I look up at my mother and rush to sit beside her. My ears perk up as I wait for her to tell her story.... 

Before I crossed paths with him, I was a girl of the Covey, wandering the forests of District 12 with my family. We danced, we sang, and we shared laughter amidst the shadows of hardship. Life was not easy, but we found joy in the smallest moments—like the rustle of leaves in the wind or the warmth of a friendly smile.  

But oh, how fate can be cruel! I lost my family to the harshness of our world; my father was taken for trying to escape, and my mother lost her life trying to keep me safe. I learned that rapture and sorrow often walk hand in hand. Still, I sang. My voice became my refuge, a strand of hope woven into the tapestry of pain surrounding me.  

Then came the day of the reaping, when my name was called. I stood before the crowd, trembling but defiant. It was there I first saw him—Coriolanus Snow, the boy with a clever mind and a hunger for power. He was my mentor in the arena, and perhaps it was fate that drew us together. He had confidence, ambition, and an air that promised grandeur—though I soon found that smarts could hide a heart full of darkness. 

In the shadows of the arena, as I fought for my life, we grew close. He saved me once, during a bombing that nearly crushed us both. I saw a spark in him—a sort of kindness amidst his harsh ambition—and in turn, I was drawn to him. I thought that maybe together, we could write our own story, carve out a future beyond bloodshed.  

I remember the way he looked at me when I sang; it was as if the world melted away, leaving just the two of us amid a sea of chaos. But as I gained popularity—captivating the audience with my music and my spirit—Snow’s insecurities began to fester. He gifted me a compact with poison hidden inside, posing it as a way to protect myself. I thought it was a token of affection, a sign of his commitment, but it held darker intentions. 

I won the Hunger Games, and with it came the mantle of a victor, yet the joy of it felt fleeting. Snow and I returned to District 12, where I found myself trapped between the hope for a brighter future and the sinister threads of Snow’s ambitions. I loved him, yes, but I began to question everything, unsure of how deep his darkness ran. He was charming and intelligent, but I could feel the coldness beneath the surface—the lengths he would go to cling to power. 

Our paths twisted and turned, and soon I was embroiled in a world of jealousy and danger. Snow became more erratic, and I could see the toll it was taking on him, and on me. Just as we began to find a way to reconcile our pasts, the arrival of Sejanus Plinth—a devoted friend who meant well—brought forth a storm. Sejanus loved me as a sister and wanted to do what was right, even if it put him at odds with Snow. 

But Snow feared losing me and the power we had built together. Desperate to keep his secrets, he acted when he thought I might reveal what he had done—that he had killed Mayfair Lipp, a girl I had never intended to cross, but who stood in the way of his ambitions.  

The night it happened, I had gone to gather what I could find in the woods, hoping to escape the chaos that enveloped us. But I could feel Snow’s shadow looming over me, his paranoia creeping in like a thief in the night. I told him it would be nice not to kill anyone else in my new life. Little did I know how dangerous my words would be. 

With a hideous clamor, he fired a gun—aiming at the very essence of the freedom I longed for. Shock and betrayal coursed through me, leaving me breathless. I saw his fear. I felt his agony. But at that moment, I understood what I had become to him: a threat. When the echo of the shot shattered the silence, I ran.  

But it was futile. In the end, I had become a ghost in my own story—lost in the love I had once cherished, now twisted into horror. I often wonder what would have happened had we stepped away from the edge. Would Snow have chosen a different path? Would I have walked away, free to build a new life?  

Yet here I am, caught between two worlds—the light of my song and the darkness of his choices. I wish I could tell you that I escaped unscathed, but I can’t. Snow shot me, not with the intent to kill but to silence, to bury the truth of what we had together—of who he had become.  

“But I am still here. My songs still echo in the woods, a reminder of what was lost, and a warning of what power can do to a heart. Keep this story close, dear child, for it carries the weight of love and the darkness it can turn into. Always choose the path of light, even when the shadows draw near.” 

I look at my mother, bewildered, then I feel anger. My father killed my mother? What was he thinking? Oh, wait, the answer is already out there; power. So power hungry he would kill his lover. “Y’know, you would’ve been in your fifties by now, but you’re, what? Thirteen years of age? My story happened in the 10th Hunger Games, how are you so young?” She questioned. I tilt my head at her statement.  

“Wait, you’re the 10th Hunger Games victor? When was I born then?” I questioned her back. “Well, District 12. Before my last breath, I gave birth to you manually. No doctors, nurses, nothing. You were so small, smaller than any normal human. I thought you were human, but your ears grew in seconds after I picked you up. And then I knew something about you was special. So, I made sure to leave the Covey a note saying, ‘bring her to District 3, give her to the mayor, and ‘name’ her Emerald Arora’ and they did.  

Must’ve been a long trip. There surely have been several other mayors taking care of you. But for some reason, you started ageing forty years after your birth.” she said chuckling. “You mean, I’m supposed to be 53 to 63 years of age, but I didn’t age until the 60th Hunger Games?” I question again. “Yes, I told you that. It’s abnormal, I know. You seem to have some sort of magic attracted to you. I mean, you’re able to touch and see ghosts! Plus, you have ears! You're my magical little girl. But, of course, Emerald Arora is not your actual name. It’s Sunny Magenta Baird. A word from my favorite ballad and a color I know would be your favorite.” She said.  

I take a deep breath and sing gently, almost a whisper: 

Tears fall down, my heart is torn, 

I see you now, but you were mourned. 

You’re here, but not the way you were, 

Your voice, your touch, they blur, they stir. 

I reach for you, but you slip away, 

Fading like the light of day. 

I need you, please don’t go, 

I can't face this world alone, you know. 

I stop and look at my mother who is smiling before she begins to sing as well.  

I’m here, my love, I never left, 

In your heart, I’m still your breath. 

But the shadows call, I must depart, 

I whine and continue.  

Don’t leave me, mother, don’t break my heart. 

She smiles and sings in return. 

A ghost can’t stay, a soul must fly, 

I’ll watch you from the other side. 

Then stay with me, don’t say goodbye, 

Please, mother, I can’t let you die. 

I sing back, my tone taking a turn to one of pleading and my mother smile widens. 

I was once a girl with music in my soul, 

Dancing in the woods, making brokenness whole. 

But fate is cruel, and love’s deceiving, 

In the silence, I kept believing. 

Then came Snow, with eyes like ice, 

Promising a world that came with a price. 

A game of power, of trust and lies, 

Where love dies beneath the skies. 

I held you close, I gave you life, 

But now I see, you’re filled with strife. 

Power’s grip is cold and tight, 

It steals away the fading light. 

She stretches out the word ‘light’ and glances at me. She clasps her hands around mine and sings this stanza while staring me in the eye: 

I’m here, my love, I never left, 

In your heart, I’m still your breath. 

But the shadows call, I must depart, 

And I sing back, pleading. 

Don’t leave me, mother, don’t break my heart. 

And she sings back lovingly. 

A ghost can’t stay, a soul must fly, 

I’ll watch you from the other side. 

And I sing back again. 

Then stay with me, don’t say goodbye, 

Please, mother, I can’t let you die. 

My mother and I close our eyes, and I sing out the first part of the bridge. 

I’m more than flesh, I’m more than time, 

I’ve felt your pain, I’ve heard your rhyme. 

Why do you leave when we’re so close? 

What happens when you’re just a ghost? 

And my mother finishes the second part of the bridge. 

Your heart is magic, it’s clear to me, 

Your soul’s a song, a mystery. 

But you must live, and I must fade, 

The price of life, the dues we’ve paid. 

She takes a breath and sings out the stanza lightly and smoothly. 

I’m here, my love, I never left, 

In your heart, I’m still your breath. 

But the shadows call, I must depart, 

And I sing back, pleading with her. 

Don’t leave me, mother, don’t break my heart. 

She raises her voice, not in a yelling kind of way, more of a singing way, to increase the meaning, as if the message will come out through a raised voice. 

A ghost can’t stay, a soul must fly, 

I’ll watch you from the other side. 

I raise my voice back, the words flying out of my mouth. 

Then stay with me, don’t say goodbye, 

Please, mother, I can’t let you die. 

My eye glow starts to flicker, and my mother starts to fade away from my vision. I gasp and pull my hands out of hers and wrap my arms around her tightly as I finish the last stanza. 

The stars may fade, the night may fall, 

But your song, mother, I’ll hear it all. 

I’ll carry your memory in every breath, 

Through every step, through life and death. 

And though you’re gone, you’ll never be far, 

You’re the light, the hope, the brightest star. 

The glow in my eyes completely disappears and my mother dissipates, leaving me hugging the air. I whisper out the last words of the stanza, smooth and light, just how my mother did. 

I’ll carry you on. 

I let the words echo in the room. Then, the tears reappear. What does this all mean? Am I magical? I was born 50 years ago! Why am I only now ageing? Do I have some sort of power over me? Am I really, as my mother claims, the daughter of the president? I need these questions answered. Now. Soon...