The penthouse was finally still. The hum of the Capitol's life-support systems was a low, rhythmic vibration beneath my feet, but in the quarters of District 12, the lights had been cut to a dim, amber glow. David was a soft shadow in the next room, his breathing deep and untroubled.
I didn't lie down. I sat on the floor, back against the cold stone of the wall, and turned my eyes inward.
I opened the Void Vault.
It didn't manifest with a sound. It simply was. One moment I was in a room of velvet and glass; the next, my mind was standing in a silent, bottomless expanse that stretched into a dark horizon. This was my true reality. This was the ledger of everything I had gathered, crafted, and brought across the threshold.
I began the inventory.
It wasn't a matter of checking a few supplies. It was an endless, methodical walk through rows that defied the limits of the physical world. There were dozens and dozens of everything.
I moved past the medical section first. Hundreds of small glass vials sat in perfect, shimmering rows—tonics for fever, salves for burns, and liquids that could knit flesh back together in minutes. I didn't have one kit; I had a warehouse of them.
Next were the rations. Crates upon crates of high-density travel food, enough to sustain a small city, let alone two people. I counted the water canisters—dozens of them, all full, all clean.
Then came the steel. The vault held racks of blades, each one balanced to my grip. There were arrows by the thousands, spears stacked like cordwood, and throwing knives arranged in velvet-lined drawers that seemed to go on forever.
I moved deeper into the vault, passing rolls of reinforced fabric, coils of unbreakable wire, and specialized tools for every climate and terrain imaginable. It was a staggering, silent abundance.
Everything I had moved into this space since that first day in the manor—and everything I had brought with me from before—was accounted for.
I spent the hours of the night in that quiet dark, mentally touching each item, confirming its place, and organizing the rows. I brought the essentials to the very front of the vault, positioning them so they could manifest in my hand with a single thought.
There was no rush. There was no one to stop me. I simply sat in the silence of my own private world, counting my riches.
In the penthouse outside, the world believed I was a girl with nothing but a score of twelve and a silver dress. But in here, in the void, I was the master of an infinite stockpile. I had everything I could ever need to protect what was mine.
I finally pulled my consciousness back, let the vault fold into itself, and vanished. The dim amber light of the bedroom returned, feeling thin and hollow compared to the vastness I had just left.
I didn't feel tired. I felt prepared.
I looked at the door to David's room. In a world where everything was counted in dozens and hundreds, he was the only thing I had only one of.
I leaned my head back against the wall and waited for the sun to rise. I was ready.