A/N

So I hadn't planned to finish this second prologue so quickly, but as I sat down to start writing it words just flowed out of me and well, here we are! I'm actually very excited about this chapter, I hope you enjoy it!

Cascade Nepeta, Victor of the 85th Games

Gentle rays of the early spring sun peered through the slither between the curtains which hadn't quite been pulled together closely enough, casting a warm glow across the small room. Fragments of light fractured against the wooden beams that hung low across the ceiling and a fresh scent of mountain dew filled Cascade's nostrils as she fluttered open her eyelids.

"Morning, sleepyhead."

Cascade smiled fondly at Aella, who was lying casually on the bed beside her. She had been flicking through the pages of a book, which she closed and placed on her flat stomach.

"Morning," Cascade returned, turning her head to look at the cover of the book. "What are you reading?"

Aella lifted the book so Cascade could see its navy cover. "Something about pirates and smuggling –it's not bad. Meant to be a somewhat reminder of home, but I can't say I miss it all that much."

Cascade nodded with understanding. It had been nearly two years since Aella had been released from house arrest after The Candid –the black cloaked group who had taken control over Panem –had cleared her name and all of the others wrongfully linked to President Aurelia's assassination. After spending a little over a year confined to the walls of her home in the Victors' Village, it was no wonder that Aella had been keen to take an extended break from the sea air of Four –that, and it gave her the opportunity to see if her feelings for Cascade were reciprocated.

They were.

"Has anyone ever told you that you look quite menacing when you sleep?" Aella teased, a small smirk appearing on her lips.

"Has anyone ever told you that you look permanently unimpressed?" retorted Cascade, digging her elbow playfully into Aella's ribs.

Aella laughed. "Many people have, my love, many times."

"Lucky me then," Cascade felt a smile tickling at her lips.

Returning her sultry smile, Aella tossed the book across the room and rolled over, her body pressed on top of Cascade's. She was a little shorter than Cascade, with a toned figure that held very few curves and despite her muscle, she weighed very little. Cascade giggled as Aella nibbled on her ear lobe, her hand sliding down Cascade's bare inner arm where her fingers then slid between her own. Their lips met; the long strands of their hair woven together like yin and yang, platinum blonde and raven black, as they enjoyed the taste of each other. It was only the knocking on the bedroom door that caused them to finally part.

"Come in!" Aella called unabashed, still on top of Cascade in all her nakedness.

"No, wait!" Cascade quickly called afterwards, pushing Aella off her to cover her own modesties under the blanket.

She was partly covered when the door opened and a young boy stood in the doorway. Cascade instantly blushed; though her bare skin had been seen by many eyes in the Capitol following her Victory, she remained shy when it came to face-to-face encounters. Edited images of her body on a screen felt very different to physical intimacy, and she was keen to protect what was left of her privacy.

"Oh no need to worry, Cas," Aella pointed out. "It's only Tobin. You don't mind, do you, Tobe?"

The boy frowned, his glazed eyes seeing nothing before him.

"Just because I can't see, doesn't mean I don't know what's there," he reminded Aella. "Now I know that you're both naked and that makes me feel uncomfortable, so imma head back downstairs. I just came to say that Mam's making pancakes if you wanted some, that's all."

Shuffling uncomfortably away, Tobin shut the door behind him.

Cascade shot Aella a disapproving look.

"What?" Aella raised her hands in surrender.

Cascade tutted under her breath. "Maybe sometimes be a little less…presumptuous?"

"Presumptuous?!" Aella disagreed as Cascade slid out of bed, picking through some drawers for something to wear. "I just don't pussyfoot around people, that's all. No harm in that."

"You're lucky that Tobin's brother is Farley, therefore he's used to foolish behaviour," Cascade smirked as she slipped on a pair of beige cropped pants and a loose white shirt which she tucked into the waistband.

Tying her hair into a loose bun, Cascade headed to the bedroom door.

"Pancakes?"

The two women headed downstairs, led by the sweet smell of breakfast.

The kitchen was the largest room of the house. It featured plenty of workspace, a large cooking range and a long wooden table with benches on either side. The house was said to have been built during the first rebellion, before the Hunger Games had been created, and was used as a secret meeting venue for plotters during the Dark Days. Throughout the years it had come into the possession of the Mir family, who had kept it firstly as a vacation home, and then later as a safe-house as Farley's involvement with anti-Capitol groups in District Two's underground posed a risk to the lives of himself and his family. Following Aurelia's assassination, Farley had sent word to his mother and brother to move to the house on the mountainous outskirts of Two, and had later brought a pregnant Cascade to hide from Fabian's men, followed by Scout when whispers had reached his ears that he had survived the arena.

Nearly three years later, the house still provided protection from the harshness of the rest of Panem and Cascade wasn't sure when, or if, she'd ever leave. She had considered returning to One on many occasions; she hadn't seen her parents in years and she supposed it would be the decent thing to do to show them that she was still breathing and let them know that they had a grandson. Yet she held little love for her parents; they had been the typical Career parents who pushed their daughter into training for the Games without really asking what she wanted. Cascade didn't know what she would have wanted, but having the choice would have been nice.

Alas, the comfort of remaining inside a bubble outside of the Districts was far too settling for Cascade to risk leaving it. She had left once to see Ivo before his execution –which had never happened and resulted in him being proclaimed as President, which was a whole other source of migraines – but Linden was her priority and at the moment, the house in the mountains was the safest place she could imagine for her child.

"The pancakes smell delicious," said Cascade, walking over to help Gneissa Mir. The middle aged woman ushered Cascade away, insisting that she required no assistance and instructing her to sit down and eat instead. Cascade did as she was told as she knew better than to disobey the strict but kind woman, perching herself on the edge of one of the benches as Farley and Tobin's mother placed a plate in front of her.

"Is Linden still asleep?" asked Cascade as she cut into the soft pancake, dipping it into some syrup.

Tobin shook his head. "I checked on him early this morning and he asked if he could see 'soot' so Mam got him dressed and took him over. He's been with him since."

As Linden was barely three, his pronunciation was far from perfect and so 'soot' has become his nickname for Scout. Cascade couldn't help but laugh at the irony of it all; having come from Twelve, Scout would have been no stranger to the black dusty powder. Her son had taken a particular fondness towards the quiet boy who had survived the Games and whilst despite the years they had co-existed alongside each other, Cascade still knew very little about Scout, though she felt she could trust him entirely when it came to Linden.

Placing another mouthful of sweet pancake into her mouth, Cascade rose from the bench and walked over to the large kitchen window. Aella was leant against the wall beside the window, still not overly fond of chairs. She jerked her thumb towards the window as Cascade came towards her.

Outside the back of the house, just at the foot of the rocky terrain behind the patch of grass which the house was settled on, the structure of a smaller cabin stood. Beside it, Scout Summers was leant over a plank of wood, a pencil balanced behind his ear as he re-tied his long hair into a messy bun at the back of his head. Blond curls nuzzled into his blue shirt as Linden tugged at his clothes for attention.

Two innocent but very different lives; both Linden and Scout represented the hope that came with death. Scout, the boy who lived when the world told him he shouldn't, and Linden, the boy born from the womb of a killer who would never have lived if it weren't for the death of the boy whose name he shared.

Cascade watched silently as Scout turned his attention away from the plank and towards the small child at his side. He bent down, sweeping Linden up into an embrace as he spun around in circles, a small smile twitching at the corner of his lips as the sweet melody of a child's laughter filled his ears. It was only as Cascade heard the sound of the door opening that she realised she was smiling too.

"Things are heating up in Two, apparently."

It was Farley. He was dressed in a dark green shirt with faded pants and wonkily laced boots. His sharp but handsome face looked concerned as he sat down on the end of one of the benches, shoving his backpack under the table, which earned a small huff from Tobin opposite as the bag crashed into his shins.

"What's happening?" asked Aella, interested. Her instinct for danger had never left her system, even years after winning her Games.

"The academy has been breached by anti-Gamers," he explained. "Happened sometime during the night. Now there's fighting going on between all sides –it's chaos."

Despite the Hunger Games having been cancelled, with Ivo deciding to 'follow Aurelia's dreams of a peaceful Panem', the training academies of One, Two and Four had remained open, though with a somewhat reduced capacity. Many people were convinced that the Games would return and others simply did not want to face the reality that their life's purpose was potentially gone for good. Unsurprisingly there had been a divide that affected all Districts of Panem; the split between pro-Games and anti-Games. Those who craved the Games' return butted heads with those who were thankful for their riddance; and those with opinions that hovered somewhere in the middle often found themselves caught in the fray.

"I'm going over there soon," said Farley. "Try to help with the calming of the situation before more lives are lost."

"I want to come with you."

Everyone in the room turned their heads simultaneously, looking at where Scout had silently entered the kitchen. He was holding Linden in his arms, unbothered as he tugged at his ear.

Farley shook his head instantly. "No way."

"Why not?" pushed Scout. "I want to help, let me."

"What if someone recognises you?" said Farley. "You were supposed to have died in that arena three years ago."

"Exactly why no one will be looking for me," insisted Scout. "It's been three years, no one will remember who I am. Please Farley, I need to do something. I can't spend my whole life hiding out here."

Cascade walked over to Scout, holding out her arms to take Linden. Her son smiled with a goofy grin, his plump cheeks puffing with joy as he saw his mother. As Scout passed him over, Cascade could see the desperate look in his grey eyes; it was the look of someone who had almost lost the motivation to live.

"I agree with Scout," Cascade spoke. "You should take him with you, Farley."

"Cas, I'm not sure," Aella debated, her arms folded across her chest. "It's risky."

"Not if he keeps his head low," said Cascade. "Besides, no one will even be looking at him. And I trust Farley to keep him safe like he has done for all of us."

Three years ago Cascade would have never imagined speaking those words about the obnoxious Victor from Two, yet Farley Mir was the living example why you should never judge a book by its cover. Turns out that more people wore masks than Cascade had realised.

Farley looked at Cascade with a regretful face before shaking his head and sighing. "Fine, but you've got to keep your head down and listen to me. Got it?"

Scout nodded. "I can do that."

"Good," Farley rose from the table. "We leave in ten."

As the boys prepared themselves to leave, Cascade found herself thinking about the Games. The decision to cancel them entirely wouldn't have been Ivo's alone; it was clear that The Candid were using him as a puppet President. Yet she wondered why he was allowing them to do so. Ivo wasn't power-hungry; he was a magnet for power that he never really wanted, but was good at handling. In the books Aella would read, the ones Risa sent from her family's collection, it was often the characters who didn't want the throne who ended up becoming the best kings. Perhaps Ivo could have been one of those characters in his own story.

Would he have kept the Games if he'd had the choice? Would Cascade?

The Games had shaped Cascade's entire life; she had even named her son after the boy she had killed to claim her victory. Before they had been cancelled, Cascade could never have imagined a life without the Hunger Games. But now?

Now she wished they'd never return.

Scout Summers, Survivor of the 86th Games

The first thing Scout noticed about District Two was the sound. A collection of noises battled for his attention; between the mumbles of general chattering and gossip interjected hurls of abuse and cries of agony. A child weeping over a lost parent; a shop owner battling to keep the windows of his shop intact. It was chaos.

As Scout and Farley made their way through the cobbled streets of the centre of Two, heading towards the prestigious training academy, Scout kept his head bowed. But he couldn't help but let his eyes wander.

Scout had never been a stranger to struggle; living in the Seam of District Twelve made each second between opening his eyes in the morning to closing them at night a challenge. Something as simple as walking to gather water from the pump at the end of the street would have seen Scout encounter starving families huddled at the side of the road, their ragged clothes soaking up the muddied waters of puddles, as well as at least once a fortnight he could walk past a corpse of someone who had no fight left inside them. To Scout, District Two had been almost as bad as the Capitol; enjoying the luxuries his inexperienced mind could never even have imagined. And yet, as he passed through the streets of the District, he could see that the people too were struggling.

It was a different struggle to the struggle the people of Twelve dealt with. It was clear that poverty had barely skimmed over the District; the problem wasn't a lack of wealth, it was a lack of purpose.

Without a strong lead from the Capitol, the usual patriotism of the citizens from Two dwindled like the dying flames of a fire. And without the Hunger Games, that simply exaggerated the sorrow.

The masonry industry remained steady, Farley had informed Scout. With a huge rise in the number of Peacekeepers –newly branded under The Candid – there was a constant need for weaponry and supplies. The Candid, as their name suggested, were very much focused on bringing the truth to Panem and cleansing it of the lies and corruption the Capitol had fed on. The truth, it seemed, couldn't dispel violence, though as a silver lining for the grey clouds that hung across Panem at least people were killed for a reason –well, the ones killed by the authoritative cloaked figures were. The rest were simply murdered by each other over disagreements in opinion, or as a result of the steep rise in crime.

Whilst it was impossible to ignore the presence of both organised and casual crime, The Candid seemed far more interested in their mission to reveal the truths of Panem rather than stabilising the mess the country had become. Posters caught Scout's eyes as he followed Farley; images of guilty people exposed for their sins and propaganda encouraging people to report on their sinful neighbours. Though for a group whose foundations were entrenched with transparency, very little was actually known about the higher ranking members, which simply added to the irony.

Farley had kept the small group living in the mountains informed of the occurrences in Panem over the years, but there was a stark difference between hearing about something and then seeing it for yourself.

It was overwhelming.

Scout found himself contemplating turning back and retreating to the quiet safety of his life outside the Districts, but he reminded himself that he had asked to join Farley and he couldn't allow himself to fall at the first hurdle.

"You alright?" Farley whispered in Scout's ear as they drew closer towards the academy. Outside of it, Scout could see a large crowd gathered and the sounds of shouting were already audible.

Scout nodded convincingly.

"Keep your head down and follow me," Farley instructed, looking either side of him before picking up his pace and heading around the outskirts of the academy.

Scout pulled down his hat a little further, tucking any stray hairs from his bun behind the collar of his shirt. It may have been sensible to cut his long hair, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. He knew it was just hair, but Scout had already lost enough of himself already.

The crowds became denser as the two boys made their way towards the academy. It seemed to be split almost in half; with one side spitting accusations, whilst the other criticised their beliefs. The array of people that filled the crowds was varied; it ranged from wealthier looking middle aged men to young teenage girls and everything between. Scattered around the outskirts of the crowd were cloaked figures; members of The Candid who as ever were in constant observation. Strangely, there were a lack of Peacekeepers monitoring the scuffle, though Scout had seen a few wandering the streets on the way, dressed in their new blue armour. The colour blue was said to be the most truthful of colours, and with The Candid having seized control of Panem's security force, it was a change that was reluctantly accepted.

Near the centre of the crowd there appeared to be a clearing, though as Farley and Scout weaved their way past the streams of bodies, they realised that they were walking towards a stand-off.

Two people stood in the centre of the parted crowd, each with a pistol pointed towards the other. They were both women; one looking just shy of forty whilst the other seemed a decade her senior. Both of them had a stern look painted on their face; their eyes filled with hatred.

"How dare you set fire to the most prestigious building in Two," the younger of the women boomed at the other with disgust. "Do you have no respect?!"

"None for you," the second woman spat. "Wake up and smell the coffee, bitch –the Games are never coming back. You are exploiting and manipulating for a shadow of a previous life. You are an embarrassment."

The first woman took a step closer, narrowing her stare. "No you are the embarrassment. You have forgotten where the greatness of our District came from. Only fools forget the past."

"Only fools cling to it!"

As the two women squared up to each other, a younger man stepped forwards. He held his hands up, showing that he was unarmed, as he cautiously approached them.

"Helena, please," he pleaded with the older woman. "Put the gun down. No one needs to die over this. Come on –we've lost too many people already."

Helena looked regretful as she listened to the man's words; it was clear to Scout that she had lost someone close to her; it was a look he was all too familiar with.

"People like this woman are destroying our District," insisted Helena, not backing down. "They need to be stopped."

"But this isn't the way," the man petitioned. "There are other ways –better ways, that don't involve bloodshed."

"Tell that to your father," Helena hissed. "Oh wait, you can't –he's dead."

Helena rested her finger on the trigger, her eyes focusing back on the woman in front of her. Scout felt his stomach tightening as he saw Farley's fingers reaching for his own gun at his belt.

"Please Helena, stop," the man begged, stepping closer to the older woman. But as he reached for her gun, Scout felt his heart stop as a gunshot rang through the crowd.

A mass of bodies swarmed around, like wasps in a nest. Scout felt a panic rise within him as he lost sight of Farley, who had dived into the crowd. People crashed into him from all sides, bashing his body like a ragdoll. He felt helpless as his body was carried with the crowd, as though he was being swept up in a current he couldn't fight against.

Scout squeezed his eyes shut, memories of nearly drowning in the arena clawing from within his subconscious. He felt a burning sensation creep up his throat as his lungs ached for air and his limbs fell prone to fatigue.

Gasping for air, Scout fell to his knees. His hands laid flat on the cold floor, his fingers trodden on by the boots of rushing people, Scout tried to grasp a hold of himself. But he was slipping; falling back into a painful pool of memories he had fought so hard to escape.

I should have died in that arena.

A sharp tug on his shoulder brought Scout back to reality. He felt his body lift as Farley grabbed hold of his arm and pulled him firmly to his feet.

Farley looked him dead in the eyes. "I said you weren't ready."

Scout couldn't reply, he simply stared back at Farley, his eyes stinging.

Farley tugged at Scout's arm, pulling him along beside him. Scout was marched out of the rest of the crowd as it splintered off, Farley silent as he guided them away. They made a detour down a back street, where Farley suddenly stopped walking and turned to face Scout.

"Look, I'm sorry," he said, running a hand through his short hair. "It was my fault for putting you in that situation. I should have just kept you away from the crowds."

Scout gulped. "I –I'm sorry too."

"It's not your fault," Farley shook his head. "You've been through shit and trust me, I get it. I barely made it out of the arena alive myself; nearly died at the cornucopia. I've just had more time than you to learn to deal with it."

Scout looked at Farley, his eyes burning as tears pricked at them. "When does it get easier?"

"It doesn't," replied Farley truthfully. "You just find ways to distract yourself. Find a purpose."

Scout thought about Cascade; Linden was her purpose. Farley had his mission to help those in need. Aella, well nothing seemed to bother that woman, but she must have had some bad memories she learnt to hide from.

"What purpose could I have?" asked Scout, desperate for an answer.

"Live," said Farley simply. "Your purpose is to live. Fuck knows how badly the world wanted you dead, but you are still here. So say a big fuck you to the world and keep on living. That's what I'd do if I were you. Now come on, let's go. We have somewhere we need to be."

Scout said nothing as he followed Farley down the back streets, away from the bustle of the District. A few streets down, Farley paused in front of a door, looking quickly around them before knocking in a short pattern. The door flew open seconds later.

A man around the same age as Farley smiled warmly as he stood in the doorway. He and Farley shook each other's hands firmly before the man stood back, beckoning the two of them in.

"Is this him?" asked the man, eyeing up Scout.

Farley nodded.

"You're right, it bloody is him," said the man, taking a closer look at Scout. "I'll keep this to myself for now –don't want too many prying eyes and ears to get a whiff of this yet. Things are too unstable at the moment."

"Cheers bud," he thanked his friend. "Appreciate it."

The man nodded at Scout, who smiled weakly back at him.

"We got some visitors, my friend," the man told Farley as they walked further into the building. "A small group, say they've come from Twelve. Want to join forces, supposedly. Share intel and resources and that."

From Twelve? Scout wondered what the situation in his home District was –was it better or worse since his disappearance? He suspected the latter.

Scout had thought many times about his family and Farley had struggled to find out whether they were still alive –it was difficult to find out the fate of a small family from the Seam and he hadn't been able to visit the District yet, though he promised to find out what he could. It was only the hope that his family were still alive that kept Scout from risking his life and exposing himself to the rest of Panem. He just hoped it wasn't in vain.

They were shown to a small room at the back of the building. It was dimly lit, with benches lining the walls and a table in the centre with a few scattered stools around it. A few other people were sat on the benches, looking at the three of them as they walked in.

Farley nodded towards one of the benches so Scout walked over and sat down on it, avoiding eye contact with everyone else in the room. Farley and the man who had greeted them stood around the table, pointing at papers which were sprawled across the surface.

After a few minutes of silence, the door opened and three people walked in.

"You must be…" the man's sentence trailed off.

"Shale," the person standing at the front replied. They were wearing a hood so their face was concealed and their voice was muffled, though Scout felt his body tense up immediately.

Shale. The name of his brother who had died fourteen years ago.

Scout moved his head slightly, trying to get a better look at the person who had claimed the name he knew so well.

"Farley," said Farley, holding out his hand. "Nice to meet you, Shale. I understand that you've come from Twelve?"

"Indeed," the cloaked figure shook Farley's hand before reaching up to their hood and pulling it back so it hung loosely against their shoulders.

Scout felt his mouth gape as he stared at the person in the centre of the room.

Her dark hair was tightly braided at the back of her head, her grey eyes cold as they assessed the room. Dark circles gathered beneath her eyes and a collection of marks and scars lined her neck. She held herself well, however, commanding authority with just her stance alone.

Though where the others in the room may have felt coldness from her presence, Scout felt only warmth.

The years had matured her greatly, and whatever life had thrown at her had hardened both her exterior and her interior. She seemed different, yet she was also the same.

She was his sister. His Ebon.

A/N

Okay, so quite a lot to digest there. This chapter is set nicely in between the end of Crown of Thorns and where Mask of Shadows will pick up (the part where your tributes will come into it, that is), and I wanted to show a bit more of the worldbuilding elements I had hinted at during the first prologue.

So the mysterious cloaked group who rescued Ivo have now been named - The Candid! What do you think the agenda of this group is; do they really want to just reveal the truths within Panem, and what is the reason for this? How have they managed to hold onto their power for two years and will they continue to?
Cascade is in a relationship with Aella -did you see that coming? Also, baby Linden's name source has been revealed. I didn't expect anyone to have picked up on this as it was mentioned briefly in one chapter in the middle of CoT, but Linden was the name of Cascade's district partner during her Games who she had to kill at the end of the Games in order to claim her Victory. An interesting name choice, perhaps?
Scout seems to have been having a tough time, feeling without a purpose. A look into District Two showed a little about Career Districts are coping without the Games and it seems that there is a divide between those who support the Games and those who are glad that they're gone. Scout is still struggling to cope with the trauma of the arena; will he find his purpose? Is living enough for him? And then finally, we see Scout's sister, Ebon! What do you think about where she is now? Does she still think her brother is alive, and do you think Scout will reveal himself to her -if so, what will their reactions be?

So lots more setting up there, I hope you enjoyed. I'd love to know what you think! I'm getting really stuck into this worldbuilding and I can't wait to show more. Next chapter will be the final prologue, bringing us closer to the 87th Games! It will unlikely be posted in a week as I'm away visiting family before Christmas, but we'll see when it arrives!

As for your tributes, I can confirm that submissions are officially closed (with the exception of those with granted extensions). I hope to reveal the accepted tributes in the coming days, so keep an eye out! I would like to thank everyone who has sent in a tribute; I have received a huge amount of submissions which I really was not expecting! It has been really tough to pick which tributes to accept and I am still struggling to pick my final 24! My apologies in advance for any tributes who are not accepted; I would love to accept them all, but alas, there aren't enough places for all of them. I will be selecting tributes who I am most excited about writing for; those with potential arcs that would fit with my general story and with the other tributes accepted. It is not that I do not like any tributes because they have all been really great, so I hope not to disappoint too many people!

If you have any questions, pop me a message! But the next time I update we will have our list of tributes and I am so excited! I'll be posting the cast list on my profile when it has been decided, and also providing updates on the Verses discord channel if you're in there! For those not part of discord, if you'd like to join the community then feel free to ask!

A final thank you to everyone who has been hyping up this story; I am still overwhelmed by the support and I cannot wait to finalise the accepted tributes and start writing! Thank you to FloatingFerrets, harley00, Alecxias, Remus98, darthnell and Butter-bluetack for your reviews!

Until next time!

~Firefly