"Little by little, the old world crumbled, and not once did the king imagine that some of the pieces might fall on him."

Princess Taliyah Aurelius.
Royal Family Member.
Design Team Lead for the 500th Hunger Games.

The velvet sofa massages my skin, and I lean back into it, absorbing myself into the familiar aura of the family residence. The stresses and worries of tomorrow and yesterday blend away as my mind eases into a blissful stillness. No more scrambling and shouting and fragmented thoughts bouncing across my mind, snapping from synapse to synapse, a checkerboard of thought dashing across my mind in a rushed game against some intangible foe. There's only silence, a clearness and tidiness whose wonder matches the extravagance of any palace or kingdom.

"Can I get you anything else, Princess Taliyah?"

I wave off the household servant whose name now escapes me. Normally I'd be rifling through boxes in my head, searching for the name of some meaningless human who I owe no politeness or attention to. But now the boxes have all been emptied, and I feel no coercion to search.

"I'll be quite alright, thank you," I say, and my voice is airy and carefree. The words seem to bounce around inside the empty confines of my skull. Alright. Thank you. I'll be.

"Sister, you look positively glowing today, might I say." My eyes dance up to meet those of Leda, and even in my current state the complement rings hollow coming from her. She's all perfection, blonde hair that rolls downwards, that golden crown so perfectly natural on top of her head. The purple and white dresses don't clash with her perfect, unblemished skin, the jewels and necklaces shining no brighter than her radiant teal eyes that never fail to entrance a room. Flawless was the word father would always use for her. Unique was the one reserved for me. Unique. Synonymous with strange, undesirable, unfit, out of place, and some positive qualities sure, but flawless? Never that.

I straighten my back, attempting to match that impeccable posture and poise that she manages without strain. I blink a few times in rapid succession, and hope that the red has washed from my dark brown eyes. "Thank you, Leda. You look wonderful, too."

"Well, we have some most brilliant company joining today. I wouldn't want to be anything short of my best." She smiles and bounces on her feet with that, and I match the smile even as dread swirls in my gut. "Head Gamemaker Dorian Flavius is coming to discuss the upcoming quell, and brother will be joining us as well. Isn't that just wonderful?"

"It sounds lovely," I say, forcing a smile. "Excuse me a moment, so that I can make some last moment preparations?"

She curtsies. "Why of course."

I stay seated, back still held in an imperfect line until she's left the living room and I'm certain she's left earshot. I hear a door close in the distance, and I shoot to my feet, nearly tumbling to the ground as I bang my knees against the table.

"Shit, shit, shit," I mutter to myself incessantly. I stumble towards the grand staircase, stripping off my shoes as I hurry through the doorway. The servants don't so much as look twice as they open the grand doors for me and step aside. I suppose my predictability should be indicative of a larger problem, but the more pressing issues stop me from delving into any deeper philosophical musings. For now a more immediate problem has presented itself.

Problem number one: I'm supposed to present my arena design today.

Problem number two: I am not ready to present my arena design today.

Explanation for problem number two: I have not yet designed an arena.

Further problem stemming from aforementioned problems: I don't have the time necessary to design a blueprint from scratch, even if I had an arena designed in my head.

Final, perhaps most emblematic problem: I have not a single idea for an arena design.

Problems on top of problems, all stemming from the true problem at the heart of it all, and that problem is me. After putting in my time as an Assistant Gamemaker, I was finally given a chance to prove myself this year. This year. The 500th Hunger Games, the most important year of our lifetime, a monument that will be remembered for millennia to come. And just like every other time that I've been entrusted with some modicum of responsibility, I've fumbled it away.

I slam my bedroom chambers shut as soon as I enter, not allowing the doorboy the chance to slide it softly closed. I throw my flats into my closet and hop onto my bed, smacking myself on the forehead as I stare up at the ceiling fan that rapidly spins beneath a diamond chandelier. I try to will my brain into action, force those connections to start firing off, but everything is still dull and slow.

I hop onto my feet, pacing back and forth as I grab onto my head and let out a muted scream through clenched teeth. My legs begin to shake and I collapse onto my desk chair, my head knocking itself backwards and facing towards the ceiling as I shut my eyes and massage my eyelids.

"Think, Taliyah, think. 500 years. This has to be something special. Something that'll shock and amaze all of Panem. Something nobody has ever done before in half a millennium." I open my eyes, and an answer falls down into my sight, as if the gods themselves decided to reach down towards me with an answer. Like I'm Adam and that finger is reaching out, except instead of life it's something far more valuable that's been bestowed upon me. An idea. A brilliant idea.

The shimmering starlights of the black ceiling hang still, and I dive into my desk, pulling out my tablet and quickly swiping up an interactive AR display. The blueprint is simple, I can let the architecture team do the heavy lifting on that end, the layout is all that matters for now, and that part is easy enough. Within a few moments I have the outlines of an arena, just in time as a loud rapping comes from my door.

"Princess Taliyah, you've been summoned to the drawing room," a servant calls through the door. I recognize the voice as that of a young man named Coriolanus. Those just out of power always love to give their children names that set forth far too lofty expectations.

"Let them know I'll be there momentarily!" I call back hurriedly. The blueprint isn't as polished as I would hope, but it's good enough, and I save it to my personal database and fold the tablet, sliding it into a hidden pocket in my dress.

I nearly run out of the room barefoot, and quickly toss on some flats, paying no further attention to my appearance. It's not as if anybody has any preconceived notions or expectations on that front of me.

By the time I descend the spiral staircase and re-enter the living room, it's far more populated than I left it. Leda is back, and with her my other sibling, my dear brother, the Crown Prince, Galen. He's pompous as ever, both in appearance and stature, looking as if he's been plucked right out of a Nineteenth Century French court. He barely gives me a passing glance as I enter, and even a moment of eye-contact is enough to telegraph displeasure as he averts his gaze elsewhere. His daughters are both here as well, and from them I get a more joyous greeting.

"Aunt Taliyah!" Maisie exclaims. She drops her conversation she seemed to be in the midst of with Leda and comes rushing towards me, dive-bombing into my leg as her pink and yellow hair ruffles itself against the fabric of my dress. Julia, two years older at fifteen and much more self-conscious, already looking the spitting image of her late mother in both appearance and presence, greets me with a reserved wave.

"Maisie, your hair is so gorgeous," I tell her sweetly, flashing a smile.

She peels away from me and returns the grin. "Thanks." She leans in and drops her voice to a whisper. "I did it myself with a friend, father didn't like it."

I have to suppress a giggle at that as I crouch down and whisper back, "Well, I love it."

"Taliyah," a sharp, energetic voice calls out. I turn away from Maisie and to Dorian Flavius as he stands by the entrance in a flashy black suit intercut with intricate, gilded designs. "A pleasure to see you again."

I curtsy towards him politely. "The pleasure is mine."

"Not to rush," Dorian says, tugging at the cuffs of his sleeve. "Especially not with such wonderful company, but I would love to hear your plans for the arena, Taliyah."

"And I have been just dying to know what this twist will be," Galen interjects. "It must be something truly fabulous."

A grin curls at the corner of Dorian's lips, and a short, breathless laugh escapes him. "It's quite marvelous."

Leda steps forward, ushering to some servants. "Let us sit then, and enjoy some drinks as we discuss this momentous occasion. Girls, why don't you two go wander the palace. I hear that Callie is staying for a visit?"

The mention of 'The Smiling Killer' is enough to get them squealing with delight and dashing through the halls in excitement, and I try to quell the nervous shaking in my hands as I take a seat opposite the three of them.

A servant sets a tall glass of bubbling champagne at the table, and I resist the urge to down the whole thing in one fell swoop. Instead, I sip at it carefully, and then set it down gently. I pull the tablet out of my pocket discreetly, and set it on the center projector.

"Leda, Dorian, Galen," I say, my excitement intermixing with my anxiety so that I'm not sure which it is that brings a quickness to my speech. "Allow me to introduce to you the most ambitious arena design in 500 years of Panem." I link up to the interface, and swipe upwards to bring the blueprint into a 3-dimensional projection laid out in the air above the table.

Leda shows no immediate response, and Galen frowns and seems ready to open his mouth in disappointment, but Dorian is there before he gets the chance.

"My Gods, Taliyah," he murmurs. He stands up, reaching out to the display as if to touch it, his hand phasing through the blueprint. He turns to face me. "I can see that trusting you with such a large task was no mistake."

Leda lets out a gasp, and stands up herself, pointing at the display. "Oh! I see it now!" She exclaims. She flashes me a smile. "It's brilliant, Taliyah. Oh, it's going to be so wonderful, isn't it, Galen?"

I look over to my brother expectantly, but he offers no enthusiasm, only raising an eyebrow. "What is it?" He asks.

Dorian holds up a finger, and quickly syncs himself into the AR system, only to zoom far out of the blueprint, showing it from far beyond where it stands. "Do you see it now?"

Galen widens his eyes. "Is that. . . possible?" He asks hesitantly.

Dorian smiles wickedly, and swipes the blueprint away. "Oh, it's more than possible. In fact, it's a barrier. A barrier that hasn't been shattered in over a thousand years. The final barrier, some used to call it."

I decide not to correct him on the phrasing of that saying. "Alesia is brilliant," I chip in. "If anybody in all of Panem's history could figure it out, it would be her."

Dorian nods. "I have no doubt of her capabilities."

"Well then brilliant." Galen laughs. "This year will be remembered for more reason than one."

Leda raises her glass in the air, motioning to us to do the same. "To the start of a new age?" She proposes.

"To the start of a new age," Dorian affirms, clinking glasses with her and downing his glass. Galen does the same, but I still hold myself back, only allowing myself a timid sip.

"So then," Galen says. "Let's hear about this quell twist then, it will match the brilliance of this arena, I hope?"

"Most certainly," Dorian says. "Enhance it, if anything. The twist is quite something, a bit of a combination of a few previous ones, with some new elements thrown into it."

Galen nods his head in approval. "Go on then."

"The first twist regards the reaping. There will be 36 tributes instead of the normal 24, and instead of being reaped based on gender, districts will be instead split into 3 distinct age groups. There will be group A, composed of those 7 to 11, group B will be ages 12 to 16, and group C will contain 17 to 21. One will be reaped from each age group."

"More tributes is always equal to more drama," Leda says excitedly.

"And shake ups to the age pool always keep things interesting," Galen adds in. "You say 36 tributes though? How will that be possible, will we delay the disbandment of District 12 for one more year?"

"That would be up to you, of course," Dorian says carefully. "But my humble opinion would be that it's long past time for the Capitol to enter the fold. After last year's Games, many in the Capitol are hungry for a chance to compete and win honor for the Capitol. Why deprive them of the opportunity? Especially since these lucky tributes will have even more glory than a normal tribute. They'll be trailblazers, doing something no person has done in over a thousand years."

Galen nods at that, and claps his hands together. "I like it, consider your opinion heard and agreed with. I'll make it official with an announcement at the card reading ceremony. Speaking of which, please, continue. Let's hear the end of this twist."

"Of course," Dorian says. "The other half of this twist is similar to the one we had in the 100th Games. Each tribute will be tethered to another tribute in the arena. If they die, their partner dies, and vice-versa. However, that comes with a crucial twist. The tethers aren't based on district. They're completely randomized. Furthermore, and most important of all, they aren't permanent."

I raise my eyebrow. "What does that mean?" I ask, speaking up for the first time in a while.

He smirks back at me. "Each night, after the anthem plays and the faces of the dead are shown, we'll show something else. Each tribute will be assigned a new tether at the end of the day, and every tribute in the arena will get to see who is tethered to who for the next 24 hours, until the next anthem sees everyone assigned new partners."

"Oh, that is just brilliant!" Leda exclaims.

Galen's smile widens into a full grin, and he clasps Dorian on the shoulder. "This is going to be absolutely spectacular."

Dorian returns the grin, letting out another of his brief, breathless laughs. "Crown Prince Galen, I have no doubt in my mind that this year will be truly unforgettable. The 500th Hunger Games will live on in history for as long as civilization still stands."

Galen and Dorian continue to chat about specifics, and Leda leans in to me, taking my hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze.

"You did brilliantly, Taliyah," she says sweetly. "Father would be proud."

I nod my head, and mimic her smile, but inside I know that to be false. Father would never be proud of any achievement of mine. He certainly wouldn't take pride in the addition of the Capitol into the Hunger Games, or a twist that brought more children into the arena. Younger children, at that. Father always wanted to make peace, bring Panem into an age where the Games wouldn't be necessary, where struggle would be absent.

But struggle has been all I've known my whole life. I'm comfortable with conflict, whether it be legal or mortal. My father would not be proud of me. He would not sit in this room and smile and clink glasses over the ideas that have been floated. He used to tell me that I would change the world someday, and I presume he always meant it would be for the better. That I would bring right where there's been wrong. How wrong I have proved him. Maybe that will always be my legacy. Maybe that will be what the future history books that Galen and Dorian and Leda all talk of will see of me. The annals of history will read: My father was a mediator, a bridge builder.

I am a grave maker.

A/N: SYOT NUMBER SIX? IN A BRAND NEW VERSE? EVERYBODY, GET IN HEREEEE!

Anyways. As I just shouted at y'all, this will be my sixth syot, and the first of this brand new verse I've set up: The Temple of Empires. It's gonna be a wild ride start to finish, and I hope y'all will consider joining along. Subs are officially open, with all those details on my profile. Make sure to actually read that and not just submit without looking at the rules and guidelines cause like, it's year 500 of the Games, this ain't your grandmas canon. Some quick info though, submissions will be open for exactly one month, closing on January 31st. In the meantime, there'll be four more prologues posted, introducing you to rest of this verse and the characters within it.

Finally, the blog is already live, with the link on my profile! Tributes page is obviously not published yet cause duh, but right now you can view it to look at the mentors, escorts, Capitolites and an arena sneak preview page! I worked really hard on this one and think it turned out well, so lmk what you think! There's also an about page that has a more lengthy summary of the story on it.

If you've been around the David-verse before, welcome back! Thanks for all the support and I hope you keep reading along through this new story! If you're new to my writing, strap yourself in and get ready for a wild ride. Let me know what you think so far, and I hope that each and every one of you considers sending in a character or two!