The beginning of the end.
From an early age, Calida had been taught to obey and respect her superiors. She was expected to never speak back and simply do as she was told, without question.
And Calida had always followed these rules diligently. She was obedient, intelligent, and the epitome of what a young woman from the Capitol should be.
However, she soon came to realize that sometimes, the hand that feeds you needs a good bite.
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Calida Bellerose ran her delicate fingers over the embroidered patterns on her satin sheets, trying in vain to distract herself from the looming event. It was the 11th year of the Hunger Games, and today marked the Reaping, a day when the Capitol delighted in the gruesome spectacle of children being forced into a death sentence.
However, for Calida, her dread did not stem from the fear of her own name being chosen from the fateful bowl. As a privileged daughter of the elite, she was shielded from that fate and only had to watch from the sidelines. Her unease came from the expectation that she should take pleasure in the grotesque dance of life and death, finding entertainment in the suffering of others.
Beyond the grand windows, the Capitol thrived, blissfully ignorant of the anguish festering in the districts. Calida felt like an anomaly in this sea of oblivious opulence, a lone island of discontent adrift in the sea of Capitol affluence.
Anxiety dripped from her every movement as she dressed in the Academy's red uniform that matched her long fiery hair. She sensed a dissonant melody playing out in the hollowness of her steps as she descended from the ivory tower of privilege.
In a world adorned with excess, she wore the weight of impending doom as an invisible crown, a tiara forged from the tears of the less fortunate.
As Calida stepped out of the car, the harsh sunlight beat down on her. She gave her driver a quick nod before making her way up to the entrance of the esteemed academy. She knew that this day would leave a lasting impact on her soul, but she was unaware that the 11th Hunger Games would cast an even darker shadow over her otherwise uneventful life.
Little did Calida know, the true extent of her involvement in the Games was yet to be revealed. Like a malevolent puppeteer, the future waited for its cue to reveal a twist that would bind her fate to the brutal dance of the tributes, and even more brutal dance with a man with hair as white as snow and a heart as cold as ice.
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I always find prologues a bit boring, but I do feel like it is necessary. Do not worry friends, the story will pick up fast in the next chapter.
I would love to hear what you think, so please leave a comment to share your thoughts.
Thank you for reading, and hopefully I'll see you in the next chapter