The ground seemed to shift out from under him. His breath was suddenly very loud in his ears and he could feel his heartbeat in his throat.

I'm going to die. Everyone's going to die.

Except him. Except him? That couldn't be right. This was his eighth arena. This was going to be his eighth death. He wasn't supposed to win! He wasn't a warrior or a strategist or a celebrity, he was a broken man clinging to pacifist ideals he'd already violated once because that's all he had left of himself.

"Are you very sure?" he asked, voice low and serious.