Chapter Six

CHAPTER FIVE / The Family Tree

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On the evening of the last day of training, the private sessions with the Gamemakers arrived at last. Something Evelia had been dreading since the very beginning.

The room felt different tonight. Peacekeepers lined the edges in rows as if they were the only thing keeping the fragile calm from splintering apart after yesterday's near-fight.

Evelia lowered herself onto a bench beside Haldin, Delta, and Griffin. The anxiety had been building for hours, a tight, twisting pressure in her stomach that only sharpened now. She glanced at her district mates, who were as uncomfortable as she was. Haldin's jaw was set too tightly, Delta's hands restless in her lap and Griffin's legs wouldn't stop moving.

Today's morning hadn't helped their state, to say the least.

You see, Zephyria had overheard about the Newcomers (just a fragment of conversation between Evelia and Haldin, nothing more) and it had been enough. For thirty minutes, she had shouted at the kids.

Career tributes did not turn against each other. District Four was a Career District. End of discussion.

Her voice had been sharp with something stronger than anger — fear, perhaps, buried beneath the fury. Fear that this alliance might impact her job. She had warned them what it would look like, how it would be received in the Capitol, how people would see them as disloyal and weak tributes. She had told them exactly how it would end: low scores, public humiliation at the hands of Caesar Flickerman, and no sponsors.

Griffin had tried to steady her, to pull the edge from her words, but it hadn't worked. Nothing had. By the time she was done, the threat had settled clearly between them.

Leave the Newcomers and go back to the Careers. Or pay for it.

And still, they hadn't moved.

The District Four tributes had stayed exactly where they were; alongside the Newcomers.

"Well," Griffin said, clapping his hands together. "We'll be alright, guys. Don't worry."

"If we get a bad score, we won't get sponsors," Delta pointed out. Her token, a small shell, rested against her collarbone, strung on a necklace Maysilee had made.

Now, every District Four tribute wore a small necklace. Haldin's held a sliver of wood taken from a mast. Griffin's bore an oyster pearl resting at the centre of the weave.

Maysilee had struggled longer than she would ever admit to pierce it cleanly enough to thread the cord through. The pearl had resisted her, and in the end she had abandoned the attempt, wrapping the woven tightly around it instead, securing it with more force than was strictly necessary. She had filled the silence with questions as she worked, circling the same point without letting it go. Who had given it to him? Had it been someone important? Someone waiting for him back home?

Griffin had avoided answering her. He had watched her hands instead, the precise way she worked despite her earlier frustration, and he had smiled. He told her her weaving was good (better than good, in fact) and that back in Four, sailors would have lined up to have her moor their boats and would have trusted knots like hers without question.

Maysilee had scoffed at that. She said she would rather be caught dead in a snot-green dress with her hair in complete disarray than spend a single second touching the slick, filthy ropes that dragged through the boats.

"We will," Griffin answered to Delta. "This is the final stretch. We get through tonight, do the interviews tomorrow, and then it's behind us."

"Yeah," Haldin burst out, "because we'll be in the arena, dude." He dragged a hand down his face. "That's not reassuring at all. I think I'm going to faint. Guys, do I look like I'm about to faint?"

"Not more than usual," Evelia teased.

"Need some bacon to cheer you up?" Griffin added, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Haldin poked his tongue out at them as he folded his arms tightly across his chest. "Shut up. Bacon isn't even that bad anyway."

The three of them scoffed,  and Haldin's mouth curved into a smirk.

Evelia let her gaze drift, scanning the room without seeming to. It didn't take long before she met Silka's eyes. The girl lifted her thumb to her throat and dragged it cleanly across.

Lovely.

Evelia only rolled her eyes and her focus moved on. She spotted Haymitch across the room, leaning slightly as he spoke with Maysilee and Wyatt. Every so often, his attention flicked  towards Lou Lou.

Evelia hadn't had the chance to speak to the little girl yet. Every time she thought about it, Lou Lou was already tucked close to Wyatt's side. Evelia didn't push it. The last thing she wanted was to startle her, to make herself into something else to be afraid of. So she kept her distance, watched from afar instead, just in case the Careers decided to turn their attention on her the way they had on the children from Six on the first day.

They did seem to enjoy going after whoever looked easiest to break.

Very brave of them.

Beside her, Griffin leaned back against the wall, folding his hands behind his head. "Well, try not to faint in front of the Gamemakers," he said. "Might be helpful."

Delta let out a soft snort before she could stop herself.

Haldin shot her a look. "You're all hilarious. I hope the Gamemakers appreciate your sense of humour when they're handing out your threes."

"Bold of you to assume you're scoring higher than us," Evelia said lightly, though her fingers had curled, almost unconsciously, into the fabric of her trousers.

"I am scoring higher than you," he replied at once. "At least I have a strategy."

"Which is?"

"Carve a trident out of a piece of wood," he said. "A good trident, obviously. Like the ones at the fishing shop back home. Then I'll hit multiple moving targets blindfolded. I was good at that at the Academy."

Delta blinked. "Not bad, Silverfall."

Haldin's smirk returned instantly, looking a little too proud. "See? Finally, someone with taste."

"Don't get used to it," Delta muttered.

Griffin tilted his head slightly, studying him with scepticism. "And what happens when the wood snaps in half?"

"It won't snap."

"It's wood."

Haldin rolled his eyes as if the answer should have been obvious. "I know what I'm doing. Jessamy showed me which wood would be the best to use. He's from Seven, he knows everything about trees."

"Right," Griffin said, unconvinced, though he didn't press further. The corner of his mouth still held that faint lift, deciding whether to humour him or not. "Anyway. I think I'll work with what's scalable. Set traps using rope and weight distribution, then show how quickly I can reset them. Maybe do something with a tarp too, since you've mentioned it might be important in the arena."

"That sounds great," Evelia answered.

Haldin made a face immediately. "Of course it does. Because it's boring."

"It's practical," Griffin corrected. "There's a difference."

His attention shifted, settling on Delta. "I assume you'll do something with an arrow?"

"I am," she said. "I'm not reinventing the wheel, though. Carat's been at the bow station a lot these past three days. I think she'll go for that too, which is annoying."

"Screw her," Evelia said at once. "You're better than her. We've seen you, you're impressive."

"So is she."

Delta shook her head, her gaze dropping to the floor. The conversation slipped off her shoulders without a fight. Evelia felt the urge to push, to insist, to fill the silence with something reassuring but it was already too late. Delta had closed herself off  like a shell pulled tight, leaving nothing exposed.

Evelia couldn't blame her for it. Opening up to people you knew would be dead in a week did something strange to the mind.

Still, she wished she knew her better. But she understood that she probably never would.

"What 'bout you, Evelia?" Haldin asked. "What will you do?"

She glanced at him, caught off guard by the question she'd been avoiding all day.

The truth was simple.

She had no idea.

She didn't want to impress the Gamemakers. The thought alone sat wrong in her chest. Impressing them meant playing along, stepping neatly into the role they expected, letting herself be shaped into something they could judge and enjoy. And that felt like surrender.

No one in her family had surrendered. Her dad had been taken away for defying Snow, her uncle had done things in the arena that Evelia suspected hadn't fit the Capitol's laws (which hence his horrible death, dismembered by chimeric mutts sent by the Capitol to target him specifically.) Rebellion ran in her blood, and she certainly wouldn't be the one to end it.

But there was the other side of it.

Acting out and pushing back too openly wouldn't just fall on her. It would drag the others down with her. The Newcomers didn't have the protection to absorb that kind of attention. They couldn't afford her defiance.

It was too risky.

Not to mention, Evelia wasn't particularly good at anything.

She had never taken the Academy training seriously. Learning how to maim and how to kill had always felt barbaric to her, no matter how neatly they tried to package it. So she did what was required, and nothing more. Just enough to keep the instructors from noticing.

She never pushed herself past that. Never tried to improve. Not that she wanted to anyway.

And it showed; her name had a habit of settling at the bottom of the rankings.

She had talked about it with Haymitch, and although her friend had tried to be supportive, he hadn't helped much, suggesting a trident throw or close combat, two things she could manage, but weren't in her liking.

"You alright, Evelia?" Ringina asked as she sat down in front of her on the floor, saving her from Haldin's question.  Autumn slipped in just after, sitting next to her.

"Yeah, I'm good. Any ideas what you might pull to impress the Gamemakers?" Evelia said.

"Knife throwing, probably," Ringina answered. "Not very impressive. It's basic, but what can we do?"

"You're good at knife throwing, don't underestimate yourself," Delta cut in. "I've seen you."

Ringina smiled, lowering her gaze. "Thanks. But you should see Autumn's camouflage. She's very talented."

Autumn nudged her sharply with her elbow. "Shut up."

Evelia smiled faintly and glanced at Delta.

"Well, Delta knows how to handle a bow like no one else. Maysilee knows her way around knives too. Wyatt's clever, and so are Haldin and Ampert. I think us Newcomers will get decent scores."

The girls around her nodded, flickers of hope appearing on their faces. It lasted until Wellie slipped into the group, settling on the floor beside her district partner, Velo. Her eyes flicked over her shoulder, drawn to where Wyatt sat with Lou Lou, speaking softly, careful with her in a way that made something twist in Evelia's chest.

"I'm worried for her," Wellie said. "Lou Lou. I don't think the Gamemakers will care about her accident. They'll give her a horrible score."

"That's probably what will happen," Evelia said. There was no point in lying to little Wellie. "But it's alright, because she's a Newcomer. We'll look out for her in the arena. We'll share sponsors. Everything will be fine as long as we take care of our own, which we will. So don't pressure yourself, yeah?"

"We'll be like a family," Velo whispered.

"The best family," Evelia agreed.

A soon-to-be-dead family, her mind added before she could stop it.

She pushed the thought down, forced it somewhere deeper where it couldn't reach her face, her voice, the way she sat among them. Everyone in this room already knew it. In ten days, maybe less, they would all be dead.

All except one.

One lucky (or unlucky, depending on how you looked at the situation) soul would escape the arena.

The feeling that washed over Evelia as she glanced at the tributes was almost indescribable.

It came on slowly, and then all at once.

Her stomach turned heavier than it already was, as if something had settled there and refused to move, and her heart began to race like it was trying to outrun the thought forming in her mind. She looked at their faces (all familiar now, whether she liked it or not) and the realisation took shape whether she wanted it to or not.

Soon, every single one of them would be dead.

Six feet underground, sealed into coffins and sent back to their districts, where the people who loved them would stand in silence and grieve them for the rest of their lives.

It didn't make sense, how all of them could be here, still breathing, and yet already be counted as dead.

The Capitol had decided it. The Gamemakers would shape it. The arena would finish it.

Evelia noticed the younger girls drifting closer, drawn to the small circle as the District One tributes were called in for their private sessions. They gathered slowly, looking at her like she might have something reassuring to offer, something steady to hold onto.

Her chest tightened.

She forced a small smile and excused herself, slipping out before the weight of their attention could settle too heavily on her.

She made her way to the bathroom, the noise of the room fading behind her.

She didn't want to worry the little ones. The truth applied to all of them, it always had, but the less the younger ones knew, the better.

The bathroom was empty when she pushed the door shut behind her.

For a moment, Evelia just stood there, hands braced against the sink, staring at her reflection as if it belonged to someone else entirely.

This was one of the last times she would ever look at herself in a mirror.

She leaned forward, turned the tap, and let the cold water run over her wrists until the shock of it dragged her back into her body. Although it slightly helped, it wasn't enough to quiet what kept pressing against her skull.

This was one of the last times she was opening a tap.

"Shup up," Evelia hissed.

She swallowed hard and closed her eyes for a second, as if that might soften the shape of the thoughts waiting behind them.

She had no idea what she would do in front of the Gamemakers. There was nothing special about her.

Evelia Crimson Vane wasn't special. She was just an unlucky girl, that was all. And her bad luck had finally caught up to her and sent her to the arena. She had never taken the Academy seriously. She didn't have any true talent to fall back on, nothing sharp enough to make them look twice.

She was doomed. Utterly doomed.

"Get out of here!" a Peacekeeper barked, the voice cutting clean through her thoughts.

Evelia's head snapped up towards the door, the sharpness of it pulling her back into the room, into her body, into something she couldn't escape.

For a second, she just stood there, the water still running over her wrists, before exhaling and turning the tap off.

She dried her hands and pushed the door open, stepping back into the locker room.

Everyone was still waiting. The Careers sat in silence while the Newcomers clustered together, their voices low, small smiles flickering between them/ Evelia's gaze moved across them and caught on Ampert.

He smiled at her immediately, but it faltered the moment he took in her face — the worry in her eyes, the colour drained from her skin.

He was off the bench before the thought could settle, weaving between the others without hesitation, making his way straight to her.

"Evie," he said. "What's wrong?"

His small hands closed around hers, squeezing as if he could pass something steady into her through the contact alone.

Evelia looked down at him.

At the boy who had somehow brought the Newcomers together. At the boy who was only twelve years old, sent into the arena as punishment for something that had nothing to do with him. At the boy who still stood here and tried to be strong for everyone else.

She drew in a slow breath. She needed to get it together.

If not for herself, then for them.

The private sessions were nothing compared to what was waiting for them in the arena.

"Just tired, that's all," she lied, forcing a smile onto her lips, shaping it carefully so it would pass.

"You don't need to lie to me," Ampert said. "You're like my sister. You can tell me the truth."

Evelia blinked. "I am what?"

Ampert flushed, his gaze dropping as he shifted on tiny his feet, trying to steady himself.

Evelia felt something in her chest soften despite everything. She lowered herself until she was at his level, close enough that he didn't have to look up at her.

"You're like my little brother, kiddo," she said

Ampert's head lifted at that.

"Really?" he asked shyly.

"Really. Only an idiot wouldn't want to have you as a brother."

For a second, he just looked at her, searching her face like he expected the words to disappear if he looked too closely. When they didn't, something in his shoulders eased, the tension slipping out of him all at once. He stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her. Evelia returned the hug, one hand coming up to pat his back gently, careful with him.

He felt so frail.

"Then you have to tell me," he insisted as he pulled back. "That's what sisters do."

Evelia let out a breath through her nose. There were a hundred things she could say, a hundred truths sitting heavy on her tongue, and none of them would do him any good. He had enough to carry already — his father, the plan, the arena waiting for all of them. She wouldn't add to it.

"I'm just worried about the sessions," she said after a moment, choosing each word carefully. "Not sure what I'll show them."

Ampert shook his head immediately. "You'll be fine. You always are."

The certainty in his voice landed harder than anything else, twisting something deep in her chest.

"Hey," she said instead, lifting a hand to tap lightly against his forehead. "You should be focusing on yourself. You're the one they're going to call soon."

"I know," he said. His eyes flicked past her, towards the tributes waiting their turn, before returning to her. "But I wanted to make sure you were okay first."

Evelia swallowed, forcing the tightness in her throat back down where it wouldn't show.

"I'm okay," she said again. "Promise."

He hesitated, then nodded, even if the worry didn't fully leave his face.

"Okay."

Haymitch appeared a moment later, slipping into the space beside them. He sent Evelia a warm smile before reaching out and ruffling Ampert's hair. Ampert laughed, swatting his hand away.

"What are you two up to?" Haymitch asked.

"Sibling business," Ampert replied, stepping back. "I'll be going, I need to speak to Griffin."

"Griffin? Why?" Evelia asked.

Ampert's mouth curved into an unreadable grin. "You'll see."

Ampert slipped away before either of them could stop him, disappearing back into the shifting cluster of tributes, his small frame swallowed too easily by the room.

Haymitch let out a quiet laugh, then his gaze dropped to Evelia's clothes, still marked with dirt. He had shown her how to handle explosives.

(In a subtle way, of course. He didn't want to raise suspicions.)

He had told her that the token his best friends had given him was also a flint striker, which would definitely help them in the arena. Lenore Dove liked pretty things with a purpose, he had said.

It had made Evelia smile.

"You okay?" she asked, her fingers finding her necklace, turning it absently.

"Meh," Haymitch said. "I think the Gamemakers already have a pretty bad opinion of me. With what you, me, Wyatt, and Maysilee did after Louella's passing, and what happened at my reaping."

(His reaping had been interrupted when the second reaped boy ran. He hadn't made it far before the shot rang out and he dropped where he stood. Haymitch had moved without thinking, instinct taking over before anything else could, pushing himself forward to shield his little brother from the gunfire.

The Peacekeepers had caught him for it and just like that, they had named him the replacement.)

"Not to mention my little... encounter as well," he added, more vaguely this time, meaning his meeting with Snow where Lou Lou had been introduced. "They probably hate me, so I need a strategy. Acting docile won't work. The shift would be too obvious. They won't buy it."

"What will you do?" Evelia asked.

"Don't know. Act like a jerk, maybe. They know about Louella, so I can tell them that ever since she died, nothing's holding me back anymore, and I'm just using the Newcomers to win and get back home to my family."

He glanced at her then and stepped a little closer.

"It's all fake, of course. I just need something to provoke them, make them remember me. I care about you."

Silence slipped between them for a second.

"About you all, I mean," he added as blush creeped to his wounded cheeks.

"I know," Evelia said softly. "But if you bring up Louella, they won't like it. I'm pretty sure you're not supposed to talk about her anymore. Especially not if you mention Lou Lou."

"Don't care," Haymitch said, his voice dropping. "It's just a cover. They'll see me as a problem, someone not worth trusting, so they won't look any deeper. They won't think I'm capable of anything beyond myself. They'll think I'm just trying to win and get out. They'll see a selfish punk."

As someone incapable of drawing an arena.

"That's..." Evelia hesitated, then let out a small breath. "Smart, actually."

Haymitch's mouth tilted, not quite a smile.

"Yeah," he said. "That's the idea."

Evelia's fingers stilled on her necklace.

"And you?" he asked after a moment, his gaze settling on her more carefully now. "What's your grand plan?"

She let out a breath, something almost like a laugh slipping through, though there was nothing light about it.

"I don't have one," she admitted. "That's the problem."

Haymitch frowned slightly. There wasn't a bit of judgement in his eyes.

"You don't need something grand," he said. "You just need something that sticks."

Evelia shook her head, her gaze drifting past him for a second before returning.

"There's nothing about me that sticks," she said. "No weapon I'm the best at. No skill that stands out. I can't outshine any of them."

"That's not true."

"It is," she insisted, quieter now. "And they'll see it the second I step in there. I know it shouldn't matter too much, but I need sponsors to share with the Newcomers. Or even for our plan. Maybe they'd send up something useful without even knowing it."

Haymitch studied her for a moment, like he was trying to assemble her into something that made more sense than what she was saying. He licked his lips, thoughts shifting behind his grey eyes.

Evelia couldn't stop the thought that followed. He looked good like this, in the uniform, blonde curls falling into his eyes, everything about him somehow too casual for the weight he carried. She shoved the thought down immediately.

"I assume my advice about you showing your skills with a trident or close combat didn't help," he said gently.

"Not really," she admitted.

"I'm sorry."

"No, no, don't apologise. You don't owe me anything."

Haymitch grimaced at that, like the words sat wrong in his mouth, but he didn't argue.

It was strange, how easy it was to talk to him. How easily the words came, even the ones she usually kept locked away.

She had never been like this with anyone before. In Four, people hadn't exactly welcomed anything she said. Her mother had never listened either. Evelia's complaints ended in silence, or with her mother slapping her to make her shut up. Only Mollie had ever actually stayed and listened.

And now Haymitch did too.

But it was different.

With Mollie, everything was fire; her words were harsh (though they were reassuring), she said things that burned no matter what you did with it.

With Haymitch, it was softer. There was something in him that didn't push, didn't cut, didn't demand she be anything other than what she was in that moment.

And it eased something in Evelia, whether she liked it or not.

"I appreciate you trying to help me," she said, as she gently nudged Haymitch with her elbow. "But I think I'll just do something basic and hope for the best."

Before Haymitch could answer, Panache stepped out of the session room.

He crossed the waiting room with an exaggerated swagger, flexing his arms at nothing in particular, a grin stretched wide across his face. He stopped right in front of Haymitch and Evelia.

Then, without warning, he raised a fist, aimed like he was about to punch someone clean in the face.

Haymitch reacted instantly, flinching and stepping forward on instinct, placing himself between Evelia and the threat before his brain had even caught up.

Panache burst out laughing.

"Ah! Gotcha, you losers!" he said, puffing out his chest even more as if the reaction had inflated him further. "I'm excited to see your scores, idiots. If you even get any!"

"Panache, they're mandatory..." Evelia said flatly.

Panache blinked at her, processing the words with visible effort.

"Man—what? I'm not a... datory." He said it slowly. "Whatever that means."

He turned away, still grinning, still flexing for no one in particular, and strolled out of the room with far too much confidence for someone who had just misunderstood a basic concept as the door closed behind him.

The first District Two girl, Camilla, made her way towards the gymnasium, and Evelia felt it settle low in her stomach before she could stop it. She swallowed, her throat tight with the sudden awareness that time was no longer something distant. Soon enough, it would be her turn.

Haymitch noticed and reached out without hesitation, his hand coming to rest on her shoulder and gently turned her towards him until she had no choice but to meet his gaze.

"Listen, whatever you'll do, you'll nail it, Evelia," he told her softly, his voice lowered enough that it felt like it belonged only to her. It brushed against her skin in a way that made it difficult to look away. "I've been with you for the three days of training and you can adapt easily to any situation. You learn fast. Even if the Gamemakers give you a bad score, you've got us, we'll help you. I'll help you."

Evelia smiled at him, and for a moment it felt like something steadier slipped into place beneath her ribs, rising in response to his words. She nodded quickly and brushed a strand of hair back from her face with fingers that had only just stopped trembling.

"I've got you too. So, if you have to act like a rascal out there... don't hold back."

Haymitch mirrored her smile, and a chuckle slipped free before he could stop it. His laugh was rough at the edges but there was something softer threaded through it, something that made the contrast feel less like a contradiction and more like something that simply belonged to him.

"We make a good team," he said.

"Only thing we're good at."

Haymitch's laugh shifted at that and Evelia's smile widened as if she had meant to draw that reaction out of him all along.

She noticed it then that Haymitch's hand still lingered on her shoulder. Her gaze dropped to it without thinking and he followed it a second later, as if pulled by the same thread, and the moment it clicked, he pulled his hand back too quickly to pass for casual.

A faint flush crept up his neck as he muttered an apology under his breath, his attention dropping to the floor like it might steady him.

Evelia stifled a laugh before it could escape, the sound catching somewhere behind her teeth, and didn't call him out on it.

They made their way back to the Newcomers, gathered in a loose cluster in the corner of the room. A few of them glanced up as Evelia and Haymitch approached, and smiles spread easily as they welcomed them.

They settled into the group without effort, slipping back into place as the conversation carried on around them. Everyone was speaking at once, voices overlapping but not competing, talking about their lives back in their districts; routines, traditions, small details that seemed insignificant until they were all laid out side by side, compared, turned over, measured against one another.

The conversation cut off abruptly when Dio, the first District Three female, was called.

The shift was immediate. It settled over the group without needing to be acknowledged.

It was the Newcomers' turn now.

Even with the Careers still having Five left to be evaluated, One and Two were already gone, sent back to their apartments, and probably had secured great scores.

After Dio, Coil's name was called, and Ampert started tapping his fingers against the floor. When his name followed, he stilled for half a second before looking up at Evelia and Haymitch.

They didn't hesitate. Both of them opened their arms without a word.

Ampert stepped forward and pulled them both into a hug at once. Whatever uncertainty had been clinging to him shifted as he straightened, shoulders pulling back as he remembered himself.

Then he turned, following Maysilee's advice, and forced confidence into every step as he walked towards the gymnasium, like if he carried it convincingly enough, it might become real before he reached the door.

The conversations didn't pick back up after that.

They thinned instead, voices faltering one by one until silence settled fully over the group. No one seemed willing to be the one to break it. There was nothing left to say that didn't circle back to the same thing waiting for all of them.

Evelia stood among them as she began cracking her fingers, one after the other, the sharp sounds cutting through the hush as her gaze fixed itself on the gymnasium doors.

After what felt like an eternity, they opened.

Ampert stepped out, flanked by Peacekeepers, his face unreadable. There was no clear victory in it, no obvious failure either, just something held tightly in place, like whatever had happened inside had been sealed behind his expression as he was guided back across the room.

Before anyone could reach him, before anyone could ask anything at all, another name was called.

"Lect."

The last tribute from Three. His name sliced cleanly through the space.

Lect straightened immediately and walked forward without looking back, and then the doors closed behind him, cutting him off from the rest of them without ceremony.

Time stretched.

Everyone remained silent. Even the smallest movements felt too loud now, as if the walls were listening. No doubt they were, considering all the cameras recording them. Evelia's fingers had stilled, but the tension hadn't left them.

Minutes passed, though they felt like hours, until the doors opened again on Lect leaving the gym.

"Evelia Vane."

For a second, she didn't move. The name didn't feel like hers when it came from their mouths, stripped of everything familiar.

Then it settled.

Haymitch grabbed her hand on instinct and squeezed it gently.

"You got this."

Evelia squeezed his hand back, grounding herself in the contact, and stood up. Haldin gave her an encouraging smile as he lifted his thumb, mimicked by Delta and Griffin beside him. She let her gaze pass over them all for a fraction of a second before turning away.

She made her way through the Newcomers and walked towards the gymnasium, and the doors closed behind her.

The room was stripped bare of the training booths when she stepped inside, the space opened wide and empty, leaving only the neat rows of Gamemakers arranged along the bleachers like an audience waiting for something to entertain them.

They were dressed in elaborate, colourful clothing, fabrics layered and clashing in shades that drew the eye whether you wanted to look or not, patterns twisting into something almost dizzying, not unlike Zephyria's. Evelia's attention snagged on the one seated at the centre.

The Head Gamemaker.

Faustina Gripper. A short, ample woman with close-cropped curls that gleamed metallic silver and gold under the lights, her presence marked unmistakably by the purple fur collar draped around her snowy robe. The highest one dressed in something that echoed the President. She wondered if this was a sort of hierarchy instored within the Capitol.

The others were less composed than they pretended to be.

Food littered the tables before them, plates half-finished, glasses held loosely in their hands, the scent of alcohol already thick enough to reach her from where she stood. By the time it was District Twelve's turn, they would be drunk. They already seemed close.

"Come closer, girl," Gripper said. "Introduce yourself. Who are you?"

Evelia didn't move immediately.

"Shouldn't you know?" she shot back without thinking. "You're the ones who called me."

A man barked a laugh, spilling a bit of his drink as he did. He reached for a slip of paper on the table and squinted down at it, as if the effort amused him.

"Evelia Crimson Vane," he read aloud.

"Could you be related to Hedge Vane? Tribute in the Twenty Third Games?" a woman asked, her tone shifting with interest.

Evelia's attention snapped to her, a flicker of surprise breaking through before she could hide it. She hadn't expected anyone here to remember him.

"I am."

Gripper let out a small gasp.

"I remember him. A pure rat, he was! I hope you're nothing like him, girl, or it'll be hard for you in the arena."

Evelia's hands clenched at her sides, fingers digging into her palms.

"What did you just call him?"

"A rat," Gripper repeated, almost lazily. "I'm being kind here. I could call him a dozen other names."

Evelia felt anger rise before she could stop it, cutting clean through the tight control she had been holding onto since she stepped into the room.

Her jaw locked, her shoulders drawing tighter as she took a step forward.

"I don't know who you think you are to speak badly of the dead, but—"

"Careful," a voice cut in, smooth and almost amused.

It came from a man slouched a little too comfortably in his seat, his hair a bright, artificial blue that matched the sharp lines of his outfit, the fabric catching the light every time he shifted. His gaze travelled over her without any attempt at subtlety, like she was something placed there for inspection rather than a person standing in front of him.

"Scowling doesn't suit you," he went on lightly. "You look much prettier when you're docile."

A few of the others chuckled.

"Much better," one added.

"Definitely," another murmured, not even bothering to hide the way his eyes lingered.

Evelia didn't move.

Her thoughts flicked back to the chariot parade, where voices had been calling things at her that should never be said to a sixteen-year-old.  She didn't know if this was normal here, but she knew she didn't like the way they looked at her now, like she wasn't a tribute standing in front of them but something shaped to be used.

And beneath the anger, something else settled in, fear. Although she had already been scared when she entered the room, the reason for it had shifted.

She wasn't scared of failure anymore.

She was scared of how those men perceived her, the way their attention lingered, the way it weighed on her like something physical. And she was scared of what they could decide to do with that perception, what power it gave them over her without her ever agreeing to it.

"Why don't you show us a little more?" the blue-haired man continued. "Let us see what you're working with."

His gaze flicked down to her jacket, then back up again.

"Take it off."

The words landed casually, but they weren't a request.

"Why?" Evelia forced herself to ask. "I'm here to show my skills."

The man tilted his head slightly.

"Your body could be a skill in the arena," he said. "I like the District Four girls. Muscular and tanned... we don't see that in the Capitol."

A silence followed his words  as several of the men exchanged looks and then nodded.

"I'm not taking anything off," Evelia said. "I'm not here for that."

A few of them shared faint, amused glances, like she had misread the entire room, and the blue-haired man let out a long, theatrical sigh.

"Come on," he said, voice softening into something almost coaxing, like he was negotiating with a child who didn't understand the rules yet. "Don't make this difficult. You want a good score, don't you?"

"I want to show my skills," she corrected sharply. "That's what this is."

A soft laugh came from somewhere behind him.

"Skills are flexible," another Gamemaker said lazily, swirling the drink in his glass. "We evaluate everything."

"Everything," the blue-haired man echoed, eyes narrowing slightly as they moved over her again, slower this time. "And right now, you're refusing to show us a significant part of your... potential."

Evelia felt something in her chest tighten further, like a knot being pulled from both ends until it threatened to snap.

"That's not a skill," she said. "That's—"

"Isn't it?" he interrupted. "You're in the Games. Everything is a skill if it keeps you alive."

"This is disgusting," she spat.

That earned another ripple of laughter.

Gripper leaned forward slightly on her seat, looking genuinely intrigued now.

"Careful, girl," she said again, almost fondly this time. "You're starting to sound ungrateful."

Evelia's gaze snapped to her.

"You call my uncle a rat, you tell me to undress in front of you, and you think I should be grateful?" she said, her voice sharpening as it rose, no longer containing itself.

The blue-haired man clicked his tongue.

"Ungrateful is one word," he said lightly. "Dramatic is another."

"Or emotional," someone added, amused.

Evelia took a step forward before she could stop herself.

"You're all disgusting," she said, the words finally breaking loose. "I don't know who the hell you think you are, but you're not gods. You're—"

She hesitated, just for a fraction of a second, and something in her mind flicked to Mollie. To the way Mollie would've said it without blinking.

So Evelia said it.

For her.

"Murderers," she spat. "All of you."

The room shifted aS the laughter stopped in uneven pieces, leaving the air oddly exposed.

The blue-haired man studied her for a moment, then smiled faintly again, but it didn't reach his eyes this time. Gripper rose slightly in her seat, the amusement thinning into something sharper.

"Well," she said slowly. "I guess you're just like your uncle then, girl."

Evelia didn't stay to hear anything else.

She turned on her heel before she could think better of it, before her anger could turn into something messier. One more word coming from her mouth and she'd get shot on the spot.

The sound of her footsteps struck the floor harder than she intended, echoing in a room that suddenly felt too aware of her leaving.

At the doors, the Peacekeepers stopped her and reached for her token. She hesitated only a second before unclipping it, looking down at it once, hoping her father would've been proud of her for this much.

Then she handed it over.

They escorted her out without a word, guiding her back to the van, not giving her a chance to look for Haymitch, or her district mates, or the Newcomers waiting somewhere behind her.

She sat in silence as they brought the others back one by one.

No one spoke much on the ride home. There wasn't anything that felt safe enough to turn into words.

After a dinner of smoked salmon and green beans, they gathered in front of the television in the living room for the announcement of their individual scores.

Haldin and Griffin got an eight. Delta scored a nine.

And Evelia?

She got a twelve.

—

obviously evelia didn't get a 12 because she has impressed the gamemakers. they just painted a huge target on her back. idk what's worse between scoring a 12 or a 1.

not the most interesting chapter but the next one is the interviews!!!! with a twist!!!! and then we can enter the arena...

but hey we got a cute hayvelia scene, and hayvelia parenting ampert because. yes.

also the whole "everyone is gonna die" scene came to me when I watched the trailer. you know that lounge scene where the tributes can see each other? it is INSANELY barbaric, but all I could think about was how ten minutes after that scene, half of these kids would be dead. so yeah fear of death and realisation that EVERYONE you're befriending WILL DIE feels right

anyway, I hope you guys enjoyed!!!