Paul: I appreciate your ideas! Stories and personalities of the Victors are pretty much set. I can't guarantee there will be room for all your suggestions. Keep them coming though; they are really interesting.
1. Jordano was present during the 4th Games because technically it was his first year to mentor, but Enrique did all the work. Hence why he was passed out during the stampede.
2. Plutarch wanted to avoid as much detection from Snow as possible. Better to say popular demand went behind one of the most popular Victors suspected of being a rebel getting their signature weapon than adding it in yourself.
3. Changed continuity error with Emerald in 'A Deck of 24'. Thanks.
4. Changed Jade's name to Beautiful to avoid similarities with Oisin's Jade. You will see why the name change fits.
5. Changed Vermilion's lineage. He is no longer Maximus' great-grandson. That was strange.
6. There will be no twelve-year-old Victors. Winning The Hunger Games is an extraordinary event. I don't see how someone so young could go against twenty-three kids, the Gamemakers, the elements, and the audience's boredom.
I will try not to edit any more information in prior works unless they are inconsistent or just plain weird. I wrote Roulette and the rest almost five years ago. The Panem back then may need some editing to match up to the Panem now.
Chapter 20: Epiphany
The evening horns sound off. Another work day done.
Peacekeepers come around to seize our tools and pat us down. We are silent as they complete their rounds. The land I am assigned to harvests grain for the high end breweries in One. The pay is better but the rules are stricter. One of the friendlier guys smiles when he reaches me. I stand out being one of the youngest in my work group. We don't know each other's name, but he tries to make every interaction decent.
"Hey there buddy. Got the day off for Reaping tomorrow. How ya spending it?"
I hand over my scythe and get in formation. "Nothing much sir. Spending time with my family I'm sure."
He finishes. "Well good luck tomorrow. Happy Hunger Games."
We are escorted out of the fields. I wait for my family in the main opening and wave when they come into view.
"Hello Father. Hello Mother. Hello Jubilation." I nod to each.
"Hello Epiphany," Father and Mother nod back. That's their usual greeting. Public display of affection is frowned upon. Ever the rule follower, Jubilation goes in for a full hug and puts up a very unkind finger gesture when I dodge it.
"Improper action Jubilation. Apologize," we speak in unison, careful not to raise our voices.
She rolls her eyes, actually rolls her eyes, and responds appropriately, "Forgive me family. I have wronged."
Mother sighs while Father reminds her how she should behave. Because of her unconventional personality, Jubilation is known as "Jezebel" around Rye. It's meant to be an insult, but she revels in it. The stories I hear about my older sister would make a Capitolite faint. Most are false because most make no sense. Jubilation flirting with a boy in public? Possible. Jubilation having a secret family with a Peacekeeper from District Two? False, only because she hates children. Father and Mother aren't so amused by her infamy. I think it's awesome.
Getting back into our roles, we join in the straight lines of workers heading back to the tenements. Even though we are not an expressive set of people, there is an undeniably energy in the air. Children skip alongside their families, parents smile and chit-chat more than usual. The Hunger Games is always an exciting time in District Nine. But what has people most upbeat are tonight's events.
"Did you enjoy your workday Epiphany?" my father asks me.
"Yes Father. I enjoyed my day working in the fields. Did you enjoy your day working in the fields?"
"Yes Epiphany. We all enjoyed working in the fields today."
Conversation continues this way, Jubilation gagging the entire time. I turn my head away from her, stifling a laugh. Father would be very upset if he saw me following her footsteps.
We reach our tenement and cram inside with the rest of the crowds. The apartment complex is rows and rows of dilapidated buildings reaching heights that I'm sure aren't safe, held on solely by faith and prayer. Greeting our neighbors as we pass by, we take the stairs to the tenth floor. After a long day's of work in the summer heat, we're already drenched in sweat before we open the windows to our home. We don't stay long, gathering up materials in the large muslin bags from work. I take the time to lounge and indulge in the breeze coming through the window. It almost cools me down.
"I hope it's not me he sees at Prophecy," I say to myself. Father, with the ears of an owl, stops dead in his tracks and hovers over me. Already annoyed that I've decided to sit down while the family works, he is stern in his words.
"Epiphany, to be seen at Prophecy is a blessing from God. To wish that you are not seen at Prophecy is to act against God's will, and that is unthinkable. What did I say about putting yourself before others?"
I look towards my mother watching the scene from the hallway. "Listen to your father Epiphany." The only line she is allowed to say.
He takes my chin and makes me keep eye contact. I mumble out the words. "One man's blessing is another man's burden."
"Correct. Now apologize and join your family back with our duties. Between you and your sister, Lord help me…"
"Sorry family."
I want to say 'But if I wish to be seen at Prophecy, wouldn't that still be putting myself before others?' but I am no fool. We make our way out of our apartment in silence and head downstairs. As the head pastor of Rye, the sector of District Nine we live in, Abraham Elohim is a well-known man. Having fought for the Rebels in The Dark Days, survived, then pledged allegiance to the Capitol, his story of redemption and forgiveness inspires the masses and keeps our community intact. People more than look up to him; they revere him. My mother is no better: Annunziata Elohim claimed virginity until she wed my father and can recite every Bible verse by memory.
Since we are the children of "Saint Elohim" and "Virgin Nunny" (nicknames that are technically blasphemous but no one seems to care), Jubilation and I are held to an even more impossible standard children from Nine are already held to. My older sister has denounced all responsibilities, but I try to keep up appearances for my parents' and Rye's sake. I believe in God, but I could never be as pious as those surrounding me.
Waving goodnight to the landlord, a kind but atheist old man, we open the basement door and head down the old wooden steps. From the chatter going on, the others are already here. The room bursts into hellos when we appear. Father waves to his adoring fans with Mother on his side. Jubilation and I find seats in the very back of the room, far away from the spectacle. It's a struggle as the room is packed. People are routine in their church attendance (Father goes around Rye with his posse to question truant members), but Prophecy always brings out a large crowd.
What we're doing could get us killed for treason. Since The Dark Days, acts of religion are against Panem law and as the first rebel district during the war, we stilltread carefully with the Capitol. Even with that hanging over us, people's faith hasn't wavered. According to Father and Mother, religion had a deep following in most districts for centuries. It's what drove District Nine in particular to rebel, a fact people now claim was the Devil playing a trick on us. Father says most Panemites divorced themselves of religion after the war, including the upper-class of District Nine, the ones who produce plastics. That and never swaying to the Rebel army are why they've distanced themselves from us, why the only time I ever see The Plastics are at the Reapings. Still, we are the only ones hanging on. The Peacekeepers are privy to it all but turn a blind eye. Father says at long as it doesn't interfere with our work, the less paperwork for them the better.
Father gets on the makeshift stage and strides to the pulpit, Mother sitting proudly in the corner. The crowd settles down.
"Greetings and God bless you all for coming today," Father smiles as he speaks. He is always more pleasant with others than he is with us.
"As you know, tonight is no ordinary sermon. Tomorrow, two of our children will be chosen as sacrifices for the Twentieth Hunger Games. Now, having your child chosen to do the Lord's work can be difficult for us to accept. Many of those in Panem have abandoned the word of God, including those right here in Nine. But remember: we work on His will, not He onto ours. The Hunger Games is an act of punishment, but it is also an act of forgiveness and releasement. It allows us to be forgiven for our sinful ways during The Dark Days. It allows for our children to be released from this damned world and given onto Heaven. Most importantly, it serves as a reminder that no act against God comes without consequences. Let us bow our heads in prayer."
We do as we're told. I peep from the corner of my eye to see Jubilation inspecting her nails. I slap her on the shoulder. She flicks my nose. We stop when we see Father's face.
"Father God, forgive us for all we have done. Forgive us for partaking in the Rebel army during The Dark Days. Forgive us for beginning such evil works against your marvelous creations. The Capitol are The Chosen People and we are not worthy of such prosperity. Let us receive our rightful punishment and let our children be forgiven for the sins we have committed. Amen."
"Amen," he gives a small clap. "Now, we shall eat and drink from the body of Christ. Let Him cleanse you and serve as a reminder of the sacrifice He made to allow us to be here today."
He turns to Mother. "Darling, pass out the materials."
"Certainly dear." She's on her feet in no time, giving out the food and drink to each member of the congregation. Jubilation and I both steal two cups of ale, Mother too caught up in her role to chastise us. We crunch into the tesserae bread and down the ale. We take our second cup when the congregation isn't looking.
"Now, the moment you've all been waiting for. We have a very special guest here with us tonight. He has traveled all the way from the sector of Bialy to be in our presence. Last night, an angel came to him in his dreams to announce which girl and boy will be our Tributes in the Twentieth Hunger Games. We hope that our tesserae tithings give us great blessings tomorrow. Let's give a warm welcome to The Seer."
The congregation claps as two people help our guest on stage. He eases into the ornate straw chair made just for him. At first sight, The Seer doesn't seem like much. Very old, always with a toothless smile, he seems like a typical jolly elder. But The Seer has prophesied every single Tribute from District Nine since the First Hunger Games. His word is gospel. I didn't believe it myself until I was old enough to pay attention.
If only he predicted how the war would have ended.
Father shakes his hand once he's settled. "I'm sure tonight's Prophecy will bring us joy, isn't that right great Seer?"
"Joy indeed Saint Elohim!" his finger shoots up. "Greetings and God bless you all!" he waves to the congregation. His frail voice strains to be heard around the packed room.
"What a lovely crowd! My vision is failing but I can sure hear you all," he smiles, taking in our polite laughter. "Last night, the angel Gabriel came to me in a vision and announced the two children God will take home in the coming weeks. This is not to be doubted as this is the Lord's words, not my own. Although I am not worthy of such a duty, I am honored to be chosen as His messenger."
The congregation holds their breath. I squeeze Jubilation's hand for support. She squeezes mine back. She is nineteen, past her time, but I am eighteen. We took out fifty-seven tesserae in my name. Father's request.
The Seer licks his lips and rises his head to the sky. "The female and male sacrifice for the Twentieth Hunger Games is Genesis Ibhar and Epiphany Elohim."
A collective gasp can be heard throughout the whole congregation. Every single pair of eyes turn towards me. Some look happy. Most look shocked. 'The preacher's son!' 'The preacher's son...' Mother blinks back tears of joy, or despair. I don't know. Jubilation clutches my hand so tight it starts to hurt. Tears roll down her eyes. She is huffing to hold back sobs. A look of sorrow passes Father's face for just a second then he's on crowd control.
Father's voice is strange when he speaks. "A round of applause for our Tributes. A joyous moment indeed."
The congregation cheers. Celebration breaks out. Genesis and I are rounded up and are sat side by side at a straw table in the middle of the basement. Laid out is the meal Tributes are traditionally served the night before the Games: lentil soup, lamb, olives, herbs, fish sauce, unleavened bread, dates and ale. Our town saves up all year for such a feast.
Genesis squeezes my hand. She is tiny. Twelve-year-old, fair skinned, blue eyed. Her smile is so genuine, so young. "Congratulations Epiphany. God has chosen us. Aren't you grateful?"
I spot Jubilation leaving the basement in a hurry. No one else notices. "Yeah. Congrats."
"'Thus you are to know in your heart that the Lord your God was disciplining you just as a man disciplines his son.' Name that verse."
I sit cross-legged in front of Mother while she sits in her straw chair. We are playing her favorite game, 'Name That Verse'. We do this every night and now it's no exception. Twenty-two questions in and I'm getting pretty tired. Even Father looks weary. There's only so much Bible quoting a person can take. "Uh...Deuteronomy 8:5?"
She beams at my correct answer. "Very good Epiphany. Let's do one more."
"Enough for tonight Annunziata. Put the Bible away."
She shrinks in her chair and stashes her prized possession away in her quilt. "Yes dear."
We go quiet. Tension hangs in the air. Prophecy threw us for a loop. We kept up appearances at the celebration. Eating the meal, accepting the congratulations. Now the congregation is gone. Reality has set in. Jubilation hasn't been seen since The Seer announced my name. No one talks about either. That's how it always is. Rather sit in awkward silence than acknowledge the haystack in the room. Epiphany Elohim, son of Saint Elohim and Virgin Nunny, is going into the Hunger Games. This is the last night I will spend with my family. In a few weeks, I will go to Heaven and fulfill my destiny.
"Stop that," Mother whispers to me. I wipe away the tears.
The front door slams open. Without any greeting or explanation, Jubilation rushes in, speeding through the living room. She is at her bedroom door when Father commands her to stop. Mother and I watch the scene in silence.
"Jubliation Elohim. Where in God's name were you? It is improper for a young woman to be out so late at night."
She faces her door. "Out fucking a boy Father. Living up to my nickname."
Mother and I gasp. That was a vile thing to say, even for Jubilation.
Father rushes over to her. He seizes her shoulders, whips her around, and slap her across the face. His face and neck are bright red as he shouts. "I've had it up to here with you young lady! This is why you are unmarried now. No one wants a shrew for a wife! You don't care about morals or values or anyone but yourself! You're selfish! Mother and I were worried sick. Don't you care about that? Explain yourself young lady! Apologize to your family."
She tries to hold back tears but they flow down her face, dripping to the floor. "I'm selfish? All you care about is your damn appearance! I can't even go clear my head without being questioned like a rebel. There! Happy? I wasn't being a Jezebel or getting married off to a stupid field hand like you want me to."
She stomps her foot on the ground. Mother and I flinch. Father actually takes a step back. "I'm tired of attending church! I hate the congregation! I barely even believe the things you and Mother make us follow. You know what I think? Epiphany is not doing "God's work" and "going to Heaven". My little brother is going to die and rot in the ground like every other Tribute because the Capitol says so and that fucking sucks!"
Jubilation breaks free of Father's hold and runs sobbing into her room. Mother clutches her cross necklace and cries. I go to comfort her, ignoring my own tears. Father stares at Jubilation's door for a very long time then turns around and reenters the living room. His face is pale, without emotion. I have never seen Father look so defeated. I am both terrified and amazed.
Father slumps down into the dining room chair. He stares off into the distance as he speaks to us. "Time for bed everyone. Epiphany, you are not to talk to Jubilation until we meet again in the Justice Building tomorrow."
I wait in my room. Father shifts around in the living room for at least an hour, sniffling every few minutes. Eventually he tires out and goes to bed. I wait several minutes after I hear his room door close to sneak out and tiptoe to Jubilation's. She's looking outside her window when I walk in.
"I don't feel like talking tonight Father. Please. Just leave me alone."
"It's me. Piph."
We only use our nicknames when Father and Mother aren't around. Tears are still rolling down her eyes when she turns around. She runs over and catches me in an embrace. I return the gesture, then I'm crying. We stay like this, locked into the other, letting it all out. It's more than what happened tonight. It's everything. Our childhood. The pressure to be perfect. Working in the fields. The meanness of the Capitol. Having Nine's Rebel history affect us after two decades. The unfairness of it all.
We dodge each other's eyes once we break. Letting out emotion is awkward for us. You don't do that kind of stuff in Nine. But it feels nice to be real for once.
We lay on Jubilation's bed facing one another, lounging in our dirty field uniforms. The moon illuminates us as we soak in the silence, two specs of sun-damaged blond hair and tanned skin in a room no bigger than a closet.
Jubilation lets out a long sigh and rests her head on her pillow. "So. You're going into the Games. What do you think about it?"
"It sucks," I bring my knees to my chin. "I don't want to go, but it's God's will."
"Bullshit Piph. That's bullshit and you know it." She stares at me, hoping, wishing I'm just saying that.
I shrug, looking away from her. "I don't know Jubi. I don't know. We've been told this our whole lives. I'm not like you. I believe in God. Do I understand what's going on? No. But there has to be a reason for this. There has to be a greater meaning."
"The "greater meaning" is the Capitol has turned our punishment into an annual extravaganza. That's the reason you're going into the Games Piph. That's the sole reason."
"What's an extra-vaganza? You use too many big words."
"It's cause I read books beyond Mother's Bible." My sister deflates and runs a hand through her hair. "You really believe what we're taught here in Nine, don't you Piph? What Father and Mother force down our throats? Ever wonder why the other districts abandoned religion? Maybe they're smarter than us."
I think about meeting the others Tributes. How will it be to talk to kids from such secular districts? Will we get along? I shake the thoughts out of my head. Heat rises in my neck. I feel myself getting defensive. "Why don't you believe Jubilation? We're in District Nine. We can't leave. Things have always been this way sooner you realize that, the sooner you can get married and live a normal life."
I regret the sentence the moment I finish. She moves her body away from me, crossing her arms across her chest. I whisper 'sorry' and lay my chin back in my knees. We're like this for a long time.
"Win Epiphany."
My head raises up. I don't think I hear her right. "Huh?"
She speaks louder this time. I'm afraid Father will hear her. "Win the Hunger Games Piph. Come back alive."
I shake my head, almost laughing until I see how serious she is. "Jubilation, I can't. You remember Cain and Hymn? Four years back? Everyone called them sinners for making it so far. Jubi, if I become a Victor, I would be excommunicated from all that follow Christ. To win is saying God rejected me as a sacrifice. Besides, the Careers are trained to kill us. There's no way I can defeat them."
"You don't know that. They don't win every year. Look at Redwood, Juan Miguel, Faraday, Woof."
"Two are crippled, one's a drunk, and the other guy killed his allies in their sleep. And that Gunner kid got killed by his own people."
Jubilation scoffs at the last part. "That's cause District Twelve is crazy. Folks here wouldn't kill you. Our people are too passive after the war and The Plastics won't want anything to do with you regardless."
"Yeah. I'd just be a pariah. You want me to come back a monster?"
My older sister throws her hands in the air. She is growing desperate. "Epiphany, listen to me. Make it through the bloodbath, at least. You don't have to kill that many people. I will live with you in the Victor's Village. There's nothing for me down here in Rye anyway. Don't leave your big sister alone. I can't do this without you. Please."
She is crying again. It makes me cry too. "I just don't want to see my little brother die because "God said so". Is that such a bad thing?"
I pull her into a hug. Sobs take over her body. I let her cry it out as I think. I can't go against God's will. I just can't. But what if God leads me to a different path when I enter the arena? The path where I can do more of His work here in Panem than in Heaven? Spread His message to the other districts, gain back believers that were lead astray. Even gain a following in the Capitol. Yes! That would be amazing. Father and Mother would be so proud. And Jubilation wouldn't have to be alone. God would be so happy to see me alive. He would not punish me. He would not punish me at all.
A smile crosses my face. For the first time since Prophecy, I feel at peace. No, I am awakened.
"Okay Jubilation. I will try. God willing."
