When I wake, the glow of the sun's rays shines warmly through my window, carefully touching the floor of my room and the contents within. I sit up, and take in the serenity of it all. Looking at today, looking at the dawning sky and all it's beauty, one might actually convince themselves that today was a normal day. That today you were as safe as you could be. But that could not be further from truth. Reaping day always had that deceptive, eerie quality about it.

Today, in the kingdom of Dinami, the residents would be forced to quietly take their place in the court yard and act as if nothing cruel was happening as they watched their children - their family, friends, and neighbors - go straight to their death. They would be expected to rejoice in the kingdom's mercy as they watch their children slaughter each other. As they hear the cry of their children's blood grow louder and louder. The injustice of this day fills me with rage, despite the brief sense of relief the dawning sky had given me.

But of course, I to, would be forced to play along. I to would have to act as though I didn't mind the injustice. For if someone were to over hear words that they should not have heard, words of rebellion, the cruelty of the kingdom, the hatred I feel towards them, there could be deadly consequences. Here in the seventh realm of twelve, neighbors betray neighbors when they over hear things. The kingdom rewards them with a small amount of money or food when they do. I suppose this is just another trick of the Kingdom. If you turn a people against themselves, they can't possibly stand. Just another way to control us. To keep rebellion from ever becoming a possible threat. So, mostly for the sake of my small family, no words would slip my mouth. The Kingdom's law enforcements are not to be toyed with. We learned the hard way.

The Games of Eleos were a result of a rebellion. Long ago, the kingdom of Dinami was divided into several different kingdoms. Smaller kingdoms ruled by individual kings. Sure, some of the kingdoms didn't get along well all the time, but at least there was a hint of sanity. Of freedom.
Or so I've heard.

The kingdoms lived together until one king, Murgon, decided he wasn't satisfied with ruling one kingdom. His kingdom was called Sunder, and it being one of the largest of the seven other kingdoms, he attacked them, one by one, smallest kingdom to largest, building his power and army as he conquered. He conquered all but Nander, the largest kingdom he had been saving for last, but by that time, though the kingdoms had put up a fight, his army was too strong and far too powerful to be stopped. He took control of all the kingdoms until the little peace the kingdoms had was nothing but a memory. Then came the time of rebellion. After Murgon had died, his son, Darius, took control of the kingdom and pushed the kingdoms into paying him outrageous taxes until they decided they had enough.

The rebels fought hard, and for a while it looked as if they might have a chance. But they were nothing in comparison to the size of King Darius' army. He surprised the rebels with his numbers and managed to bring the rebellion to a stop. The rebellion, he warned, would not go unpunished. He then established the Games, a cruel fight to the death between children from the ages 12 to 18. Each year the children's names would be put into a large bowl, and one male and female from each of the twelve realms would be chosen to leave their home and compete until only one lone victor stands. He called these games The Games of Eleos. My grandmother told me that in the ancient language of our ancestors, Eleos meant mercy. Not giving the full punishment for what a individual deserved. The name alone makes me cringe.

The thing about the Games was that some of the children don't stand a chance at all against their competition. Those with extremely powerful abilities, or graces, had almost always won these Games. These people, Gracelings, had extreme talents that could be very useful or completely useless. They were distinguished from the ungraced by two distinct separate colored eyes. The possibilities for graces are endless. If you're lucky, you'll get fighting, or combat, or maybe archery. But the unfortunate get useless graces like gardening or cooking. Sure, these graces are nice to have, but not in terms of survival and the Games for the most part. I guess you can see why the ungraced stand no chance in these Games. I, Amor of the seventh realm, am graced with speed. One might think this is an amazing, useful grace, but in reality, the burden that comes with this grace is all too much for me to bear. You see, if the kingdom finds out you're graced with something that could be useful to them, they take you from your family and use you for their purposes. My mother wouldn't let this happen, after dad had died, I was all she had. When my grace revealed itself, she took me to my grandmother for her to take care of me in the smaller and less crowded part of realm 7, where I could lie low in order to escape the kingdom officials. Because we needed a cover up for my visible one green and one blue eyes that told the world I was a graceling, we found I took naturally to wrestling. Yes, a girl wrestler. My mother resented this but eventually gave in because she knew I would never be a girly girl, that I would never be that proper young lady she wanted me to be, I was anything but lady-like. In the kingdom, wrestling was such a common hobby that the kingdom no longer sought after those graced with it. When my mother decided it wasn't safe to have many people around, my grandmother already having taken in two of her other grandchildren from my mother's sister's side after their mother had died, my mother left without telling me. She only told my grandmother. I don't know where to, this was 6 years ago, and I was merely 10 years old. I haven't told anyone the truth of my grace. My grandmother, mother and I are the only people who know the truth of my grace.

I pick my best pair of pants and top for the reaping. I comb my curly black hair into a messy updo I usually do. When I head out of my room, my grandmother takes one look up from the tea she is brewing and frowns.

"You look like you're going out to work with those pants and that hair." I catch the smallest smile at my pathetic attempt to look nice. I sigh.
"You didn't expect me to be wearing a dress, did you?"
She laughs. "I would never dream of it."
She sets down her tea and comes over to fix my hair. I watch her fingers move, so familiar, she can weave hair or bun it perfectly. She places it in a elaborate bun. A few curls fall out of the updo, giving an elegant touch. How she can make me, of all people, look like a normal girl, I don't know. She leaves the room and comes back with a pale blue top and a black pleaded skirt. Before a can object the skirt she teases,
"It's not a dress, it's a skirt."
Because I love my grandmother, and I just want to comfort her on this dreadful day and make her proud of me, I reluctantly give in and put on the skirt and top. When I emerge from my room, my grandmother's face lights up.
"Oh Amor..." she begins "You look just like your mother." I catch a gleam in her eye and fear for a minute that she is about to cry.
"You're so beautiful."
"Thank you grandmother." I turn around and give her a hug.

I go out the door and head to the market. I need to pick up some things before I go to the Court Yard. I hear a stir from behind me, little feet quietly trailing me.

"Amor.." her high pitched little voice shows how small she is. A smile trickles across my face.

"Emma" I say, "What are you doing here?"

I turn and see her, her innocent gaze flickers down to the ground, shyly. Grandmother has done her hair in two braids, they frame her face and make her golden hair highlighted with a few brown strands stand out. Her little dark green dress finishes her look. The youngness of her hits me like a gust of wind. Her mother died when she was born, and she was left to my grandmother. She is only 6 years old, and her small frame suggests a girl that is at most 4.

"Grandmother said that... That maybe you would let me come with you today." she looks at me hopefully.

I think of her, of her brother, Lao, of how this little girl is one of the very few people who would ever seek the company of a graced person. People usually avoided Gracelings. I think of how highly she thinks of spending time going to the market. How she brags to her friends at school when I take her out to do something "grown up."

"Of course you can come." I smile at her.

Her face lights up and she dashes to my side. She slips her hand into mine and looks at me with the happiest face you could ever see on such a sad day. She understands a little about the Games. How we have to hope nobody we know is forced to go. All I can think of is that when she is eligible for the reaping, nothing can protect her. I can't save her. I'll be too old to volunteer. I quickly remove this thought from my mind and guide her forward.

"You're going to be okay today, right?"

she looks at me, her expression suddenly worried.

"You have to be."

her hand tightens around mine protectively, and this nearly breaks my heart. Because I can't tell her that I'll be okay. I don't know. I can't reassure her that we'll be okay. But I think of her, of her brother, who next year will be eligible for the reaping. Of my grandmother, who will be too old to take care of Lao and Emma if I'm not there to help her.

We have to be okay. We just have to. I refuse to let these children face reality before they need to.
"We'll all be okay."
"You promise?"
"I promise."