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MIRAI:3
The Destiny Games is owned by the user, Nyx. Please do not edit, vandalize or modify anything without her permission unless you are an admin! Thank you for your cooperation!
MIRAI:3


Trigger Warnings: Abuse, mentioned death, major character death, profanity, too many exclamation points, and mature themes. <--- I have no idea what I mean by mature themes, but oh well, just expect it as a possibility.


Prologue

Welcome to Arcadia, a hellhole paradise unlike any other!

Here in our dystopia utopia, we are divided into twelve chapters, something that promotes unity and faith in the hearts of every Arcadian.

The best and the brightest dwell in the Library, the hub of our wretched wondrous empire! Here, President Grimm watches us all with a careful and benovelonet eye, making sure we all suffer are happy and healthy!

One of the reasons we all are so grateful for our lives and look forward to each and every passing day is the abomination wonderful sporting event known simply as the Destiny Games.

Ever since the inspirational wicked 'Evil Queen' Cassiopeia led the rebellion that ultimately led to District 13's destruction, we've had the Destiny Games held to remind people that no one can truly escape their fate: death. And what better way to remind the citizens of this fact than having their children fight to the death?

As always, this year's Destiny Games will prove to have only one victor, so make sure to watch carefully! After all, it's a holiday and your district will be honored if one of your tributes is murderous lucky enough to survive.

So, without further ado, happy Destiny Games and may the odds be ever in your favor!

-Giles Grimm

Chapter 1: Luck's Not On Your Side

Reaping Day, The Library

President Milton Grimm looked across the desk at Baba Yaga, analyzing every aspect that she openly displayed. Her posture was relaxed, her eyes bright, her smile nice and wide. In short, she was the perfect spokesperson for the Library.

“Do you comprehend the magnitude of the job I’ve assigned to you, Miss Yaga? If you fail, your privileges will be revoked. It’s oh-so-easy to make a mistake when handling children, but take care. One slip up and you’re out. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir!” Jubilation was evident in her honeyed voice. “I promise I won’t let you down!”

“Very good.” President Grimm steepled his fingers and smiled faintly. “You are dismissed.”

Baba Yaga practically glided out of the room, excited as she was. When she was a little girl, she had wished fervently to participate in the Destiny Games, but due to circumstances such as being born in the Library, she was forbidden by law to compete. So, the opportunity to be a central part of this year’s Games was something she didn’t want to mess up.

In comparison to other members of the Library, she actually had a relatively simple job. All she had to do was draw the names of the 24 tributes and greet them when they arrived at the Library. Already, she could almost feel the smooth papery pieces of fate underneath her nimble fingertips.

What names would she have to read? Who would she send to their dooms or raise on a pedestal of glory and fame? Who would win and who would lose? Baba Yaga couldn’t wait to find out. (In fact, she was rather impatient for the Games to start, but decided to hide it to appear more professional than she actually was.)

In a matter of moments, she had walked onto the auditorium stage where she would deal out the destinies of 24 teens who would surely leap at the chance to prove themselves in front of their respective Chapters. She would have been enthusiastic about participating in the Destiny Games and was absolutely certain everyone else would be too. How could they not be?

(In the end, Baba Yaga was dead wrong, but it didn't matter in the end after all.)


Reaping Day, Chapter 11

“OW!” A shrill scream from one of the homes of the Editors shattered the serene tranquility of the early morning in Chapter 11.

Elle Sternberg pursed her lips, exasperated by her daughter’s frequent vocal outbursts. “For the love of God, Quinn, try not to scream when I brush your hair! You must look your best for the Reaping, you know.” She scolded her daughter, roughly pulling the brush through her dirty blonde tresses.

“W-Well, it wouldn’t b-be such a-an issue if y-you brushed lightly, Mother.” Quinn muttered under her breath, underestimating her mother’s radar hearing. It was the wrong thing to say at precisely the worst moment possible.

Elle reared back, affronted, before slapping her daughter clear across the face. Quinn crashed to the floor from the sheer force of the blow, cradling her wounded cheek gingerly. To her credit, she didn’t cry out, but gave her mother a venomous look in retribution for the brutal slap.

“You worthless pig.” Elle hissed, clenching her teeth to avoid raising her voice any higher than socially acceptable at the current hour. “I wish you had never been born!”

Quinn flinched from the harshness of those words, still holding her cheek. She had heard those words before from her mother with similar variations, but they had never been delivered with such ferocity and sincerity until that day.

Elle’s expression twisted further, turning into something positively menacing. “A sniveling girl like you doesn’t deserve such beautiful hair.” She laughed, holding up a serrated knife. “So, why don’t we just get rid of it?”

Quinn tried to flee. She tried to run away and find someone who would be sympathetic to her plight and understand that her mother actually hating her was an emotional blow Quinn couldn’t exactly recover from in a day, especially on the worst day every year of her life. She just wasn’t quick enough.

In mere seconds, her hair was reduced from flowing waves to short, messy strands. It was only then that Elle released her, allowing Quinn to finally sprint away, vision blurred by tears. Leaving the house behind her, she ran faster and faster until she slammed directly into someone, knocking them to the ground.

“I’m s-so sorry, Icarus!” Quinn cried out, wringing her hands. “Please d-don’t hit me!”

Icarus Juniper, the boy on the floor, gave her an incredulous look. “Since when would I hit anyone unless they really deserved it?” He gawked at her swollen face, the fading bruises on her exposed arms, and her drastically shortened hair.

“What’s wrong, Princess? Did you get mugged or something?” He couldn’t help inserting his morbid humor and sass into the conversation, but the instant he spoke, Quinn burst into tears once more that streamed down her face, ruining the minimal makeup that had already been applied. Icarus stood awkwardly, unsure of how to comfort her. He wasn’t exactly an expert on soothing a girl’s sorrows.

“Let’s sit down and talk.” He suggested, patting the ground by the wall of his house. While Icarus had been on his way to talk with some friends before the Reaping, it was clear Quinn, a girl despised by almost everyone in their chapter simply for being the child of an Editor, needed someone to be there for her, even a boy who had never interacted with her besides grading her homework assignments.

“M-My dress will g-get dirty.” She feebly protested, but sat down anyway, showing that the statement was merely a pleasantry at best. A little amused by such a response, but still in a state of awkward concern, Icarus sat down beside her, patting her shoulder in an effort to console her. It didn't exactly stop the flow of tears, but it did elicit a faint smile. It was surely a sign that the story to come wasn’t pleasant, but the gesture was appreciated regardless.

In other words, it was the least he could do.


Reaping Day, Chapter 5

“Hey, Angeline!” A voice called from behind, startling the self-proclaimed patchwork girl. She whirled around, immediately on the defensive, but relaxed when she spotted the familiar face.

“Hey, Novac! What’s going on? Shouldn’t you be getting ready for the Reaping?” She tilted her head inquisitively, unable to stop her curiosity from taking root.

Novac shook his head slightly. “I ripped my best clothes by accident, so I have to go dressed like this.” He sounded absolutely despondent thanks to this fact, but in Angeline’s eyes, it couldn’t be helped. “Anyway, that’s not too important right now. I want to ask you a few questions if you don’t mind.”

Angeline felt a little puzzled and decided to bring up her concerns. “What is this about anyway? I mean, I’m flattered you chose me as the subject of whatever interview you’re holding, but today is kind of an important day for me and I don’t want to take too long answering questions.”

“It’s an important day for all of us. Really, I just want to ask you something about the Reaping.” Novac insisted. “Do you think the Destiny Games are fair?”

Angeline observed him cautiously. “To be honest with you, not really. I mean, remember last year? One person slaughtered everyone else with magic because they were all powerless.”

“Well, they’ve fixed that this year. No magic is permitted within the Arena. Still, though, pitting children of different levels of strength against each other? It’s barbaric!” Novac snarled, obviously very upset about the whole affair.

“Well, with any luck, we won’t have to participate, so keep your fingers crossed, okay?” Angeline shrugged, unable to muster the same ire. Yes, it was unfair, but it had been happening since before they were born. What could they do to change it? Nothing, in her humble point of view.

She left him standing there, a little offended by her blatant dismissal of his emotions. While Angeline hadn’t meant anything harsh by it, Novac took it that way and felt quite upset by her sudden departure.

“Humph, I’ll go ask someone else then!” His voice wavered slightly before he sped off in search of his more rebellious classmates. Obviously, asking a girl made from cloth wasn’t the solution to be had here. But, then again, when was it ever the solution?


Reaping Day, Chapter 1

“Everyone, please report to the square for Reaping Day ceremonies.” The intercom blared, distracting Opaline from Obsidian’s sweet gift of a glittering necklace.

Everyone in Chapter 1 always looked their best for the Reaping, but the Glass family hadn't been able to afford any fancy jewelry this time around. Luckily, the Tunnel family was swimming in wealth (from a Chapter standpoint anyway) and Obsidian was able to give Opaline a necklace so she could save face with the other children.

“Thanks, Obsidian!” She gave him a tight hug and a kiss on the cheek before standing aside, allowing him to maneuver himself through the doorway, a tricky feat with his crutches. “Are you alright with going? You’re not sick, are you?” She asked, concern laced in her words.

“I’m actually feeling fine for once, Opal. Please don't worry about me.” He assured her happily. “Let’s go.”

The two strolled through the now deserted streets, everyone else having already made their way to the square. Luckily for them, they weren’t late, but they got nasty looks from the other people already gathered there. “Nice of you to finally show up.” An Editor hissed, nudging them forward with his gun. Obsidian stumbled, but Opaline was right there to help steady him, shooting a nasty look at the Editor in the process.

The secret couple separated, Opaline sliding into the crowd of females while Obsidian hovered at the fringe of males huddling together. Everyone looked grimly up at the screen where an unfamiliar woman was displayed, gifting them a megawatt smile.

“Salutations! My name is Baba Yaga and I’m here because of the event we all know and love, the Destiny Games!” In the background, one could hear enthusiastic cheers from the citizens of the Library. Obsidian winced slightly. As much as he accepted the Destiny Games, it was still bizarre to get proof that people actually loved the event.

“Anyway, I’m certain all of the potential tributes are excited, right? After all, if you win, your Chapter will be treated with the utmost respect and be given wealth and fame. If you lose, you’ll be remembered and hailed as a noble martyr, especially if you actually volunteer as tribute! Imagine how sensational that would be! It might even get you some sponsors.” She winked at the camera.

Somewhere in the crowd, someone muttered that she was a real witch. A murmur of assent rippled through the crowd. Whoever this Baba Yaga lady was, she either was oblivious to the fact that everyone besides those in the Library hated the games or truly loved the idea of blood being shed in the Arena. Or both.

“So, are you guys ready to begin? If so, may the odds be ever in your favor~! First, let’s begin with Chapter… 1! Let’s start with the girls… Hm, let’s see here. Opaline Glass!”

In an instant, Opaline pushed her way out of the crowd, apologizing as she went. She gave Obsidian a disturbed and sorrowful look as she passed before smiling faintly. “I’ll miss you…” She mouthed silently before turning away.

Mere seconds later, Obsidian lost it. “NO, DON’T GO!” He screamed, sobbing hysterically. A few Editors turned towards him, eyes narrowed. An outburst like that could result in violence, but they relaxed when they realized he was in crutches. How dangerous could a guy like that be?

Opaline stiffened momentarily, shaken up, but continued walking with her head held high. She stood next to the Editor on the stage, the light extinguished in her eyes. She already knew that she wasn’t going to make it back and didn’t want to make anyone think that she wouldn’t be ready for the Arena. Her hands trembled slightly, but she quickly hooked her fingers into the fabric of her dress, unwilling to give people a reason to not sponsor her.

Baba Yaga grinned even widely if that was possible and drew a name from the male pool for Chapter 1. In an instant, her smile flickered and died. “Daring Charming!” She sounded disappointed and even a little worried. In seconds, one could hear screams from the crowd. Apparently, the people in the Library were fond of the narcissist and didn’t want him to participate.

Right away, Obsidian knew what had to be done. “I volunteer as tribute!” He screamed, hobbling his way to the front of the crowd.

Baba Yaga’s eyes widened before she chuckled nervously on the screen. “I don’t think it’s exactly ethical-” She paused as though she was receiving orders before nodding to show confirmation. “Welcome to the Destiny Games, Obsidian Tunnel!” She clapped, starting off a round of applause with the invisible crowd as well.

As he slowly made his way onto the stage, Obsidian felt everyone's eyes on him. He could guess that they thought he was suicidal and understood their views. What on earth could a cripple do in a vicious game like the Destiny Games? But, he figured that participating in Opaline by his side would be all he needed, even if he died horribly in the process. He couldn't let her enter the Arena alone.

He expected that Opaline would yell at him, but she merely frowned instead. “I don’t understand why you would throw your life away like this for my sake, but I can't stop you.” She pursed her lips before shaking her head. “I wish you hadn’t though because I have to worry about you now.”

Obsidian grinned in response. “Worry about yourself!” He nudged her with a crutch. “I’ll handle myself just fine.”

Translation: That’s sweet, but I want youto survive. While most couples would have just supported their partner if they were chosen, Obsidian wasn’t like that. He had always intended to volunteer as tribute if Opaline was picked even though he had a physical disadvantage. He truly cared for her welfare and wanted to make sure she lived if he could.

It was the least he could do.


Reaping Day, Chapter 2

“Next, we’ll move on to Chapter 2 after such a heartwarming display on love on the part of Obsidian Tunnel!” Baba Yaga exclaimed, eliciting groans from the citizens of Chapter 2. As a collective whole, they all despised public displays of affection, seeing it as too mushy for the average person to witness.

“GET ON WITH IT!” An old man shouted, who was promptly shot in the head by Arcadius Pellen, an Editor, without mercy. “Don’t interrupt.” He sneered before looking back at the screen, detached.

His son, Arktophonos ‘call-me-Ark-or-I’ll-kill-you’ Pellen, rolled his eyes at the sudden death, perfectly aware that eyes were glaring at him by association. He couldn’t imagine how his sister felt, but was certain she cared far more about it than he did.

In truth, Ark was bored by the tedium of these events. Every year, it was the same thing. Year after year, Callisto and him only had one entry each and escaped being chosen every time. Ark figured it was their destiny (ignore the pun) to avoid participating in the Destiny Games, even though he was fully prepared for fighting in it. As the saying went, if you lived in Chapter 2 and had no muscles, you were either a little kid or dead.

Baba Yaga drew the first name, a female’s. “Callisto Pellen!” She called, laughing as the small girl let out a scream of terror. Ark looked at his little sister in horror. He had doomed her by thinking that she wouldn’t be called, hadn’t he? The worst part was that he couldn’t volunteer on her behalf because he wasn’t a girl and Callisto wasn’t a boy.

“I volunteer as tribute!” Someone called from the crowd with a feminine but strong voice. Callisto whirled around and gasped at who had saved her from certain death: Bravelyn Tailor. Another child of an Editor, the girl, even though she had been branded as a nerd by her peers (albeit one that could fight back if pushed), had volunteered to save another girl’s life.

“Why?” Ark hissed, grabbing her arm roughly. He wasn't one to shy away from manhandling anyone, no matter their gender.

Bravelyn pulled away from his grasp, staring daggers at him. “Because, unlike you, Callisto is sweet and doesn’t deserve to be a part of the Destiny Games.” She turned up her nose at him in an attempt to seem haughty. It actually worked quite well for her.

Ark recoiled before smirking at the newly found tribute. “Well, unlike you, I’m not suicidal or going to die soon. Good luck with that.”

Bravelyn’s eyes practically glowed with fire before she stomped away, the crowd drawing back from her. She was no longer a nerd in their eyes. She was a madwoman.

In the commotion, Baba Yaga had already drawn her next name. “Arktophonos Pellen.” She called out sweetly, her glittering smile like a stab to Ark’s heart.

On the stage, Bravelyn laughed, unable to help herself. “Not going to die, hm?” She sneered, directing all of her limited contempt his way. It was a low blow, but Ark still managed to act his arrogant self despite it.

“Of course not! Because I intend to win.” Ark winked at her before chuckling darkly. “And if I have to kill to win, so be it. Because, unlike you, I have something to live for.”


Reaping Day, Chapter 3

Scythe Sasin stood rigidly, the ‘crowd’ of male tributes actually clustered in several rows. They all stood to attention, wanting to avoid scrutiny from the officials in charge. Even so, Scythe stood out with his flaxen hair and dead-eyed stare.

On the other side, the females were clearly arranged in rows unlike the males’ loosely constructed ones. Every female was distinct from each other, even in their simplistic frocks. The most noticeable of them all was Raine White, someone who stood out because of her natural serene beauty and unusual white hair. It was almost certain sponsors would support her on virtue of that alone.

When both of them were called, Raine didn’t appear to be very surprised. She waved goodbye to her friends and stepped out of her row, somehow still calm despite it all.

Scythe, on the other hand, automatically went into analysis mood. He calculated how long it would take to run, figured out that Editors would mow him down before he could make it, and shrugged to himself, resigned to his fate.

All the while, applause mixed with insidious laughter from the Library citizens rang in everyone’s ears.


Reaping Day, Chapter 4

In this Chapter, everyone usually smelled vaguely of fish guts, but that day was a rare difference. One little boy had already fainted from the excessive amounts of perfume in the air. The most unusual part of masking their natural scents was that it wasn't done for anyone’s benefit in particular, but it was the same story every year.

Ahseala Kie was one of the rare souls who wore minimal perfume and even dressed herself down on this particular occasion. Her reasoning was that she wanted to seem humble if she was chosen for the Destiny Games. However, if she were truly honest with herself, she would acknowledge that she simply couldn’t afford such opulence.

On the other hand, Damek Skov had dressed to impress, wearing a fancy suit that accentuated his muscular frame. Even though he usually lived to embarrass his father when it came to appearance, Damek had decided to style his hair normally by his family’s standards and wear something adequate, once again by their standards.

In a blur of names, Baba Yaga called the names of a few girls who had died before Reaping Day. Tension grew in the crowd until she found the name of someone who was living. “Ahseala Kie!”

Some parents sighed in relief, glad that their daughters were spared. Others looked worriedly at their sons. There was a disproportionately small amount of boys compared to girls in the Chapter and none wanted their son to be called.

“Damek Skov!” It was amusing how just saying a name could result in mixed reactions from a crowd, but Damek didn’t seem particularly bothered by the declaration.

“Alright then.” He accepted it, beaming brightly to show he was carefree about the whole affair. Ahseala gawked at his cheerful attitude, surprise etched clearly on her face. She wasn’t exactly aware of his considerable charm and that he was milking the unseen audience’s sympathy.

Then again, most people weren’t too aware that Damek had been planning for the eventuality of being a tribute in the Destiny Games for years.


Reaping Day, Chapter 5

“Angeline Patchwork!” “Novac Antra!” As the two names were called one after the other, the duo walked up together, avoiding contact.

Novac was absolutely furious about being called. In his eyes, he had just been pulled into the most unfair game around and wanted no part in it. Angeline, on the other hand, was dismayed. She had always dismissed the Destiny Games as something that she wouldn’t be a part of, but that way of thinking had come back to bite her.

“Ooh, an inanimate girl!” Baba Yaga praised, her eyes almost sparkling from delight. “I wonder if she’ll give as much of a fight as Petra Diener!” In the background, the audience cheered, hopeful that it would be the case.

Petra had murdered nearly everyone in the Arena, alternating between mercilessly crushing them or snapping their necks after her girlfriend was killed before her very eyes. She was praised as an extremely bloodthirsty opponent worthy of praise. Any similarities to her would be a good sign for Angeline, but all the patchwork girl felt was dread.

Would the Games never end?


Reaping Day, Chapter 6

Most Chapters felt anxious at the thought of Reaping Day, but Chapter 6 didn’t operate like that. They were mostly practical people who accepted their fates without question.

No one embodied the spirit of Chapter 6 better than Seraphina Steadfast. She hardly ever got upset and always gave off a straightforward, practical air. However, when her name was called, she broke down, screaming profanities at the woman who had spelled her doom.

She refused to go up on the stage, leading to Seraphina being dragged there by Editors. She tried to fight back, but their superior strength and numbers left her weak and useless in their hands.

“Ooh, we have a little spitfire here!” Baba Yaga clapped her hands, elated. Did nothing ever faze her besides the thought that her precious Daring Charming would have to participate? Seraphina wanted so badly to punch that pretty little empty smile off of the older woman’s face, but she was miles away and it would accomplish nothing but her execution.

“Anyway, her partner will be… Classified? What kind of name is that?” Baba Yaga looked puzzled, shaking the scrap of paper as if it would reveal further secrets.

A boy in the crowd emerged, holding a dog in his arms. Almost immediately, an Editor tried to take her away from him, but he started yelling at the top of his lungs until the Editor finally winced and relented.

“Aw, a boy and his dog! How cute!” Baba Yaga actually squealed, an action that led to virtually everyone in Chapter 6 hating her guts. Squealing was a sign of immaturity, something they didn’t like from a Destiny Games official. Already, this year’s Destiny Games didn’t seem to be going well.

How would it end? Only time would tell.


Reaping Day, Chapter 7

“Infelicity DeCrypt!” Everyone held their breaths, waiting for some sort of reaction, but Infelicity had none to give. She just nodded and walked onto the stage.

Even so, Baba Yaga still managed to be pleased by it. “Ah, how stoic! She didn’t scream or anything! How very mysterious!” Internally, Infelicity wished the newly christened witch by virtually everyone would quit it with the exclamation point overuse.

“Anyway, moving on to Florian Oiseau!” That name elicited the very sort of dramatic response the Library citizens fiercely craved.

“WHAT?!? No way! I’m not doing it! Come on, can’t someone else do it? Someone more qualified?” Florian cried out, visibly disturbed by the thought of being a tribute.

Unlike with Callisto Pellen, no one came to his aid. Instantly, an Editor grabbed onto his shoulders and steered him in the direction of the stage, forcing the outraged bird to keep moving no matter his unimaginative protests.

“Man, what a drama queen.” Someone giggled in the crowd, but they were promptly smacked upside the head by the person next to them. In seconds, a brawl had started because of Florian’s outburst and was proving to be growing.

The sound of gunshots being fired into the crowd was the only thing that made Infelicity break her quiet persona. She turned away, unwilling to look at the carnage. The loss of life was too poignant for her, too real.

Florian drank up the sight with wide eyes. His words had never been the direct cause of violence before and he wanted to mark the moment down.

On the screen, Baba Yaga was practically cackling from joy. “It looks like we have a killer in this shrieking bird, everyone! Murdering people with words alone is a wonderful talent, wouldn’t you agree?” There was scattered applause and a few notable cheers.

“Of course, words won’t be enough in the Destiny Games!” Baba Yaga spread her arms open wide, chortling all the while.

“What on earth is wrong with her?” One of the survivors of the brawl asked quietly, but no one had any sort of decent answer to give.


Reaping Day, Chapter 8

Most tributes couldn’t say that they had killed someone before the Destiny Games began. Lace Caroll was the sole exception unless one counted Florian’s recent actions.

When Baba Yaga called her name, she responded as any kid who grew up sewing would: she stabbed the Editor who came to fetch her in the neck with a needle.

“AUGH!” The Editor screamed with agony, desperately trying to keep blood from spilling between her fingers. She was failing miserably, most of it splattering on the pavement. Lace didn’t look at the Editor, flinging the overly large needle on the ground before smoothing out the creases in her dress.

“This is stupid, but I’ll comply.” Lace, unlike Bravelyn, was actually rather haughty and smirked at the crowd, walking onto the stage. The other Editors, while horrified and enraged at the death of one of their own, couldn’t do anything to the tribute. Besides, sending her into the Arena was practically a death sentence anyway.

The Library citizens was enjoying the spectacle, laughing up a storm. One could hardly hear Baba Yaga’s voice above the amused din, but the name ‘Makonnen King’ stood out perfectly well regardless of competing noise.

He frowned, a little disturbed by being called, but seemed to accept it. “Okay..” He mumbled, stepping over the twitching body of the Editor who had been murdered in cold blood by his partner.

As he stood next to her on the stage, he shuddered slightly, nervous about the prospect of having to possibly fight someone like her in the Destiny Games. She was someone with a lot of imagination, and considering her newfound bloodlust, that could prove deadly for him in the Arena.

Only time would tell though.


Reaping Day, Chapter 9

It was no secret that Bàsil hated Reaping Day on virtue of its name alone. In his Chapter, everyone had unofficially forbidden him from making puns about the name, something that left him smarting. He liked to crack jokes and be humorous even in dark moments. Being restricted from that annoyed him more than most people would understand.

He had been called though and that meant he was momentarily untouchable once he got on the stage. “Well, I guess you could say I’m… dead.” He paused, realizing their point. He wasn’t very good at these jokes, was he?

Next to him, Darcy Charming rolled her eyes. She had vowed that she would try to be nicer, but couldn’t help herself. “What kind of joke was that?” She snarled, making him feel even worse about his terrible sense of humor. “You’d think your jokes would be better after years of begging us to let you tell them.”

“I guess not!” Bàsil laughed, but it sounded hollow. He had honestly thought his jokes sounded good and they had in his head, but they didn’t seem to translate well to real life.

“If you win, you’ll embarrass yourself and the entire Chapter. Just look at you! You seem half dead already!” Darcy snorted, somehow coming off as more arrogant than Lace and Ark combined.

“Well, maybe some people can’t afford to be as vain as you.” He shot back, pleased by her offended look.

Baba Yaga tittered at the disagreement between the two tributes. “Trouble in paradise?” She cooed, incapable of reacting in any other way. It seemed as though Baba Yaga was always going to find a reason to snicker at the events of the Destiny Games.

Darcy huffed. It was going to be a long day…


Reaping Day, Chapter 10

“Can I participate?” Drake Scalex raised his hand before Baba Yaga could even draw the names, resulting in nervous twitters from the unseen crowd.

Baba Yaga paused before grinning from ear to ear. “Certainly! Welcome aboard.” She mockingly saluted the dragon boy before calling a Marissa Stahlbaum to the stage.

Unlike the reckless actions of Drake, Marissa simply gave a discontented sigh and walked onto the stage. “This entire affair is stupid, I swear.” She groaned, seemingly unaffected by the fact that she could very possibly die.

“Such bravado! Kudos to you, Marissa!” The witch applauded her, giving off a sarcastic air despite the sincerity in her eyes. It was an interesting contradiction to behold.

“We’re almost done, folks! Hold on tight because the next two Chapters always seem to produce interesting tributes. Wouldn’t you all agree?” Baba Yaga winked, as though she was reminding the audience of a private joke.

No one in Chapter 10 could really tell though.


Reaping Day, Chapter 11

Quinn stood next to her best friend, Clara Sacristan, her personal guardian angel. “Are you nervous?” Clara nudged her, smirking all the while. Clara had a tendency to tease her friend at the worst times, but this time, it was clear she was trying to lighten the mood.

“M-Maybe.” Quinn shrugged, strangely silent. Usually, she would shove Clara playfully aside or make a little groan of disappointment, but today was not that sort of day. She kept on rubbing her cheek, trying to soothe the pain.

“Anyway, what happened to your hair?” Clara observed Quinn’s locks with puzzlement. “It was way longer yesterday.”

“N-Nothing!” Quinn snapped, going on the defensive. “God, q-quit being so n-nosy!”

Most friends would have been offended by uncharacteristic harshness, but Clara was practically an angel in human form. “Don’t say the Lord’s name in vain!” She snapped back before grasping Quinn’s hand in her own. “Please calm down, alright?” She growled under her breath before turning to face the screen.

“A-Alright.” Quinn became unresponsive, dead to the world. Inside, her mind was ablaze, anxiously running through scenarios where she was called to participate in the Destiny Games. All of them ended in her violent end. In one, she even drowned, something that should have scared her that much since she knew how to swim. Even so, Quinn was a master at internalizing irrational fears and making them come alive in her mind.

At first, Quinn didn’t even hear her name being called. Clara’s horrified gasp brought her crashing back to reality. “W-What is it? Did y-you get called?” Quinn squeezed her hand in an attempt to transfer support.

“No, you did!” The three words brought Quinn’s world to a screeching halt. “W-What? No.” Quinn denied the truth, her heart pounding with adrenaline. The crowd seemed to close in at her as her anxiety peaked, sending her swirling down a emotional drain.

“I’m so sorry, Quinn.” Clara looked at her forlornly, but the words fell on deaf ears. Quinn backed away, wheezing. The world seemed to be fraying at the edges. Nothing made sense today. Why was she being punished like this? Was it the gods that Clara often preached about that did this to her?

Suddenly, the world pitched underneath her feet. “Oh, n-no…” was all Quinn managed to say before she toppled to the ground, having fainted before she could even reach the stage.

Icarus sprang forward, catching her before she could bust her head on the stone floor. “Woah, you okay there, Princess?” Apparently, that was now his sassy nickname for the petite, stuttering girl. She didn’t reply, but that was rather self explanatory because she was unconscious.

No one else was approaching them, so Icarus helped her to the stage, carrying her awkwardly up the stairs. Placing her in a seated position on the stage, he made to get off it, but an Editor blocked his passage.

“Aw, look at this little gentleman volunteering as tribute to help out his girlfriend! How sweet!” Baba Yaga sniggered, making little comments about how adorable it was.

“What?!?” Icarus looked startled. “But, I didn’t… But, she’s not…” It slowly began to dawn on him what he had done: by walking onto the stage, he has seasonally declared himself a tribute in front of the entirety of Arcadia. Icarus mentally smacked himself, letting out a plaintive groan before sinking to the ground next to his ‘girlfriend’.

It was times like these that Icarus really hated his kind streak.


Reaping Day, Chapter 12

“Why’d it have to be you of all people?” Medea groused, vexed by her partner and fellow tribute. Titus looked disgruntled by this statement, giving her an irked look.

“What did I even do?” Exasperation was evident in his tone. All his life, Titus had been a little sweetheart in the eyes of the public and being actively hated by someone shattered that image.

“You’re like a freaking teddy bear! How am I supposed to compete with your appeal in the arena?” She groaned, trying to enforce her point. It didn’t seem to be working very well, but Zo- Medea desperately wished for him to understand her aggravation.

Baba Yaga chortled, further irritating the both of them. “Oh, well! Even if Titus is a sweetheart, if you work at you, you can get sponsors too!” She gave one of her signature winks and smiles before addressing the audience.

“Well, that’s all the time we have for today, but be sure to keep watching for more Destiny Games fun! Happy Destiny Games and I’ll see you all next year!” The video ended abruptly, shutting off.

“Alright, it’s time to go.” The Editor began ushering the two away. “What? Now? I didn’t get to say goodbye to my family!” Titus’ lip trembled ever-so-slightly, trying to charm her into letting him go off and tell them farewell.

“Too bad!” She sneered, unable to feel any sort of empathy for him. “If you wanted to say goodbye, you should have done so this morning. You’re headed to the Library first thing, so don't bother complaining. It won’t help you now.”

Medea scoffed. “Don’t try your stupid one liners with me, lady! One of us will win this, okay? We’re not going to die in there.”

The Editor’s lips turned upward, noticeably entertained. “Oh, is that right?” She mocked them, hands on her hips in a condescending fashion. “Well, if you don’t, I’ll be sure to give you a medal.” Snickering, she shoved them towards the train platform.

“You better get one.” Medea insisted stubbornly before marching towards the train, determination beating out sorrow. If she was going to fight, she was going to win, consequences be damned. Maybe then, she’d be free to say her real name.

Titus sighed through his nose before fixing his eyes on the scornful Editor. “I hope you actually do get that medal. Because I’ll make you eat it.” He told her quietly, not needing to raise his voice to intimidate her.

“I-I thought you were sweet.” She stammered, appalled by the blatant threat.

“Oh, I am! But, what I hate the most is when people with guns throw their weight around just to be cruel. I really would have appreciated being able to tell my family goodbye… When I win, remember that please.”

Titus stepped onto the train, leaving the woman behind, shaken but still very much alive. She nervously eyed the contraption until it moved away from the platform, allowing her to relax.

Right away, she promised herself to acquire a medal, some way or another.

Chapter 2: A City Full of Children

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