As soon as Celestine heard the swish-tap-thunk of the escort's heels on the reaping stage, she knew that she wanted to be a tribute.
It was in her blood, though it wasn't like she had any blood family with her.
Her parents were a casualty of a Dark Days bombing, and so ideologies were swiftly hammered into her.
It's all their fault. Filthy rebel scum, the other orphans spat as they scrubbed in the scullery, did the dirty work for the Great Houses.
Not even the Hill, not the dazzling groves or sparkling pillars lining the mansions gave her any hope.
She finally got her wish at age 12, right when the 4th Games began.
The district was devastated after their loss in the 3rd Games, composing a wild scheme to get their tributes back in check.
Entering, The Crown.
Career heaven, Outlier hell.
They started recruiting immediately. Swordsman, young socialites, girls who could fling a knife further than the eye could see.
The academy wanted talent. Deadly talent, and Celestine was just that.
She took to the rapier quickly, with her quick reflexes and quicker ways to have her opponents asking for mercy.
Yet, there were other talented volunteers selected for the Games, and Celestine apparently had to be saved for something better.
But what could be better than an annual death pageant?
