Maizelynn Dal was dead.

She had died the day she came to District One. Left in her place was Eydis. Gone was the girl with a warm and sunny personality. All of that had been stripped away, leaving nothing but cruelty and cold. But Eydis didn't miss who she used to be. This new version of her felt powerful, not like the child who cried herself to sleep every night after her father died. Not like the girl who woke up screaming from nightmares about her sister's death. Eydis Dal was strong, Maizelynn was not.

Eydis, her former middle name, was better suited for the luxury district. In an ancient island civilization, it had once been the name of the goddess of fortune. A name related to grains would not fare well. Eydis's mother became Freyja, named for the goddess of beauty.

Eydis tended to keep to herself, wandering the untended fields of wheat on the outskirts of the district. She could see the fence that surrounded District Nine in the distance, a symbol of the life she had once lived. Home was so close, yet so far away. Eydis longed to go back, but at least here, she was free.

The stalks of wheat tickled the bare skin of Eydis's arms as she wandered through the field, soaking in the warm summer sun. It was July, a notoriously warm month in District One. Eydis flipped the small dagger she held in her palm. She never left home without it. She never knew when something was lurking in the fields. A snake, a bobcat, or someone who could hurt her. She hadn't injured a human before, she wondered what it would be like.

The grass rustled to Eydis's left. She whirled around, holding her knife in front of her. The point ended up inches from a boy's face. His eyes widened as he backed up.

She recognized him from school. He was around a year younger than her, one of the richer students, which said something, as District One was the wealthiest of the districts. He was tall and relatively handsome, the kind of boy the girls at school fawned over. Eydis wasn't sure why he was out in the middle of the field. People didn't tend to do that.

Eydis lowered her knife a little, but stayed ready to strike.

"What are you doing out here?" she asked coolly.

"Just getting fresh air before the Reaping," said the boy.

Eydis narrowed her eyes, looking at him with disgust.

The boy paled and backed up. "I'll leave you alone," he said, before disappearing into the wheat.

Eydis shrugged and carried on. She decided she'd been out long enough and ventured back to her house. It was barely a house, more of a shed, on the outskirts of the district. Eydis and her mother were outcasts, since they hadn't been born in One. They hadn't been truly accepted into society, even nearly eleven years later.

Eydis opened the door, where she was met by the stench of wheat alcohol. Since moving to District One, Eydis and her mother had resorted to brewing and selling drinks in order to make a living. Their customers enjoyed the brews traditionally made in District Nine. Eydis hated the stuff, but her mother also seemed to live off of it, not just the money they earned. Freyja's disconnect from reality used to hurt Eydis, but at this point, she couldn't feel the pain anymore. Being in touch with her emotions would only leave Eydis with more pain.

Eydis brushed through her long blonde hair and braided it, a technique she had once learned from her mother. Every time she did her hair, her mind trailed to her sister, who had never been taught the skill. Eydis quickly wiped away the thought. Thinking of the past wouldn't be of any use to her.

The girl changed out of her simple dress and into a white shirt and tan pants. District One had a tradition in which children eligible for the reaping had to wear their school clothing for uniformity, but Eydis refused every year. If she was selected for the Hunger Games, she wanted to be there in something she could move freely in, not the stiff, starchy uniforms she wore every day to school. Sure, she was scolded every year for it, but she felt prepared.

Eydis pulled her boots over her feet and took one last look in the dusty mirror. She wondered if this was the year. She'd been lucky for the previous six years, but her name was in the reaping bowl seven times. Eydis knew fortune, her namesake, would not be on her side this year.

Eydis left the room in search of Freyja. "Mother?" she called.

There was no response. Eydis sighed. Freyja was probably at a lover's house. Eydis didn't care. If she didn't see her mother before the reaping and she was selected, she wouldn't be upset. That's how it was every year. This one would be no different.

Eydis left the house, taking one last look at the rundown shack. Somehow, she knew this would be the last time she set foot on this land. Even if she wasn't selected, she couldn't stay here anymore. Perhaps she could leave the district and run away. But there was no way to go back to Nine. And there was no one there to love. Not that there was anyone to love in District One either. That feeling was something Eydis couldn't fathom. She saw how too much love ruined her mother's life. The only person she could say she truly loved was her sister. But her sister was dead.

Eydis supposed she could stay in District One. She could find a rich young man and enter a loveless marriage. She was pretty, she knew that, but she also knew that she unsettled people. No one would want her around enough to marry her. And that was okay for Eydis. As she walked, she decided to stop thinking about her future. Dreaming about things out of her control was pointless. She preferred to remain in the present, where she could do what she needed, without worrying about the consequences.

"You're not wearing your uniform," said someone.

Eydis turned around to see the blond boy from the wheat field. Eydis scowled and looked away. Maybe if she ignored him, he would leave her alone. Her hopes were abandoned when the boy caught up with her, matching her stride.

"You're that Dal girl, right?" he asked. "The one with the alcoholic mom?"

Eydis frowned. Who was this boy and why did he have the audacity to talk to her?

"Sorry, that was insensitive," said the boy. "I'm Facet."

"Eydis," mumbled the girl.

She wasn't sure why she told him her name. She didn't care to be his friend. Thankfully, she didn't have to talk much longer, as the two had reached the entrance to the main square. A barrier had been erected around the square for the eligible students. Eydis gratefully separated from Facet and got in line with the other girls.

When she reached the front of the line, Eydis let the worker prick her finger. Eydis didn't flinch as the needle drew a single drop of blood. Eydis pressed her finger against a sensor that beeped and turned green.

"Go wait at the front," said the worker, pointing in the direction where Eydis was supposed to stand.

Eydis walked to the front of the square, nearly right in front of the temporary stage, alongside the other eighteen-year-old girls. She couldn't help but notice how the girls around her took a step away from her. Eydis knew her classmates didn't trust her. A girl who appeared one day from a poor border district, weak and covered in blood. The same girl who was quiet and cold, who had no friends because she made people uncomfortable. Eydis probably wouldn't like her either.

After all of the students finished checking in, the mayor walked on stage. A squad of Peacekeepers stood behind him, waiting to escort the two selected tributes. The crowd hushed, waiting for the mayor to begin his speech. After six years, Eydis knew the speech like the back of her hand. It was written by someone from the Capitol, it talked about the Games, a punishment for the rebellion. Eydis let the mayor talk, only partially listening to his words.

When he was finished, he approached one of two bowls.

"We will start, with the girls," he said. He reached into the bowl and fished around for a moment before extracting a single slip of paper. "Maizelynn Dal," he read.

No one moved. Silence hung heavy in the air. Eydis thought she misheard the mayor. No one called her Maizelynn anymore. No one. Eydis had assumed that if her name was called, they would have referred to her by her new name, but clearly, this was not the case.

"Maizelynn Dal?" repeated the mayor.

A girl nudged Eydis. "Dal? Isn't that your last name?"

That brought Eydis out of her thoughts. She stepped into the aisle that separated the boys from the girls. She kept her spine straight, looking forward. Her expression was neutral. Just because she had been reaped, didn't mean she was going to die. Eydis was a survivor, the thick scar on her leg was a daily reminder of that. She would prevail, her will to live was enough for that.

Eydis climbed the steps to the stage, taking her place to the right of the mayor, looking out into the crowd. That was a mistake.

Freyja Dal-Sativa looked back, from the section of the square designated for spectators. Tears traced down the woman's face. Eydis frowned. She didn't know why she was angry. Freyja's presence shouldn't have affected the girl, but for whatever reason, it did.

Eydis's attention returned to the mayor as he prepared to announce the male tribute. Once more, he fished around in the other bowl, retracting his hand once he had selected a name.

"And the mal tribute will be," began the mayor. "Facet Argentum."

Eydis raised her eyebrows, her only reaction to the announcement. What a coincidence it was that the boy she had met less than an hour before was the same boy she would be fighting against in the Hunger Games.

Facet didn't hold the same demeanor as Eydis did as he walked towards the stage. Though he seemed to attempt confidence, the expression didn't quite meet his eyes.

He stood on the other side of the mayor, looking out into the audience. Tears shone in his blue eyes. Eydis refrained from rolling her own. Facet was strong and well-built, she knew he stood some sort of chance. She wasn't sure why he was so upset about his selection.

The mayor instructed the two tributes to shake hands. Eydis held Facet's hand in an iron grip, refusing to break eye contact with the tall boy. She stared him down, her face completely neutral. Facet's eyes widened with what looked like fear to Eydis. Good, she liked intimidation.

Once the two let go of each other's hands, the Peacekeepers approached them. Eydis's hands were chained in front of her, the heavy metal shackles digging into her skin.

They were led into the Justice Building and into the basement. Eydis was shoved through a door, which closed behind her. Something clicked. The lock. Outside, another door slammed. The Peacekeepers must have locked Facet in a similar cell.

"We'll come get you when the train arrives," said one of the soldiers.

Footsteps sounded, getting quieter as the Peacekeepers left.

Eydis looked around her cell. It was pretty small, with no furnishings. The only light came from a barred window over the door. A singular lightbulb hung from the ceiling in the hall.

"Eydis?" asked Facet.

"What?" she asked.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

"I'm fine," said Eydis.

"Good. Kind of strange that we just met before this," said Facet. "Maybe it's fate."

Eydis didn't answer him. Maybe if she ignored him, he would stop talking to her. Eydis was right. Facet didn't speak to her anymore, leaving Eydis with silence, just the way she liked things.

...

an: i hope you enjoyed this chapter, next time i'll introduce treech and his reaping ceremony! 
(so fun, so exciting, so tragic) anyway, i've decided i'm going to update fics as i feel like it instead of sticking to one at a time in hopes that it will give me more motivation. i hope you're doing well! -willow <3