Gloss Hunger Games Catching Fire Novels & Stories

Serena’s hands lifted instinctively, the flames answering her unspoken command. It started small—a flicker, a spark in the underbrush near the nearest scout. Panic sparked in his eyes as the fire licked toward him, hungry, alive. Another step, and a second burst ignited, precise, deliberate, a warning turned weapon. Serena realized with a cold, sharp thrill: she was no longer prey. She was predator. The moment came suddenly—a scout lunged, and instinct overtook thought. Her hands exploded with controlled fire, a wave that threw him backward, screaming. The others tried to respond, but panic shattered their formation.

A silhouette stepping through the flames, calm, unhurried. Celeste. Her eyes glowed cruelly in the firelight. She tilted her head, lips curling into a smile that promised only torment. “Game over, Eloise.” My chest convulsed as another coughing fit tore through me. Black smoke poured into my lungs, clawing at me from the inside. I could barely see through the blur of tears and ash, yet I forced my head up. Beyond the curtain of fire, I caught it—the faint shimmer of moonlight on water.

He noticed she smiled unconsciously and moved closer to it. He was happy observing her, but suddenly she snuggled even closer to the fire and placed her arm above the pit. He tried to scream but no sound came out, he moved his feet yet still couldn’t move. The fire rose and took over her still sleeping body. Then, the flames made their way towards him as if someone had left a trail of rum straight into his spot and the fire was coursing the flammable line. When it reached him, the blazes rose higher like a curtain of chaos that lit the path between them.

he added, though the rightness of the words felt bigger, even more accurate, than what he intended. There was a part of Milo that knew that this Althea was probably not even real. Sure, the photo had proven that there was an Althea - out there in the real world, but this version of her - she may have been a memory or, probably more accurately, a fantasy. Yet, the undeniable pain that he felt at the thought of losing her felt genuine, almost corporeal. He shivered, but it had nothing to do with the cold. Destroyer whined and licked the ice off of her hand and Althea’s dark lashes fluttered open, revealing her vibrant green eyes. Milo’s heart stuttered in relief. He ducked his face to compose

Drops it. But the fire’s spreading. And Creek laughs. “Oops.” He claps. The nursery roof collapses. “No!” Lyana screams. Pride starts crying. The sound hits the air. The vines erupt. Not black this time. Gold. From the ground. From the keep. From the Tree two miles out. They don’t grab wolves. They grab fire. They drink it. Smother it. The flames die. Instant. Pride stops crying. Silence. Every eye turns to Lyana. To Pride.

He didn’t seem to notice anything unusual. “That’s enough. Your injuries aren’t fully healed. You have a promotional video to shoot in a few days, so keep the food as light as possible.” Alanna nodded. Only after he left did she exhale in shaky, panicked breaths. But the truth couldn’t stay hidden. Jack discovered it anyway. When dinner was ready, and Alanna had just sat down, she saw the empty medicine packet—pulled from the trash—thrown onto the table. “You keep your salt in a sleeping‑pill package?” Jack asked with a smiling, devilish calm.

The marsh beyond the hollow walls stirred as if holding its breath. She felt everything. Rowan’s fury. Lucien’s hunger. Her own rising storm. She lifted her hands—fire and frost blazing in perfect symmetry. The marsh answered. Roots erupted through the floor in long, twisting spears. Fire burst from her palms in a column of gold, but frost intertwined with it—blue-white veins snapping through the flames like ice lightning. Wolves howled as frost sealed their paws to the stone, while the fire seared the air around them.

3 hours before the party Flames roared around him, hungry, alive, monstrous. Little Alex stood frozen in the hallway, heat blistering his skin as smoke poured into his lungs. He could hear his mother’s voice calling his name, strained, terrified, swallowed by the fire. He reached for her silhouette through the flames, tiny fingers stretching, trembling. “Mom!” Her figure lurched toward him but the ceiling groaned. A beam snapped loose. The world flashed orange. Her scream tore through him as the fire swallowed her whole.

The goddess must hate me for some reason. Wiping the thought from my mind, my eyes land on the only fictional book in the stack. I am actually a “facts over fiction” kind of girl usually. But, this time, I find myself choosing otherwise. Maybe it’s time for a change. Running my fingers across the cover and staring at the fiery red dragon, I am suddenly reminded of Millie. Goddess, Millie!

HIS TOUCH, HER FIRE🔥 --- Chapter Six — “What the Fire Left Behind” The door clicked shut, and Evelyn stood frozen on the other side, her hand still gripping the handle like it might turn back time. Her breath left in shallow bursts, eyes stinging as the weight of what she'd just done pressed down on her chest. She hadn’t just shut him out. She had carved a line in fire between them—and for once, it didn’t make her feel powerful.