Disclaimer: I don't own Lorien Legacies or the Hunger Games (of which this story has links with)

Hi guys!

So here it is, the new story. This is the prologue and will basically describe the story. Sorry I've been absent for a while, a lot longer than I said I would be.

Since I am so busy at the moment, I'm going to be updating this story every two weeks. I know that's quite a long gap between updates but it really is the best I can do. I love this story and this fandom but this is the most important year of my life so this will have to take a back seat.

So I will update on a Saturday every two weeks and that's a promise!

Please read on.

Prologue

Third POV

The arena is crammed full, a cold wind sweeping through the huge expanse. Despite the huge crowds present here today, it's deadly silent. So silent that a penny could drop and you'd hear it.

They're all waiting for the ceremony to begin.

The arena is a circular stadium and separated into two semicircles. A low but thick concrete wall with a barbed wire fence on top separates the two sections. In the middle of the whole arena is a huge stage in the middle, a screen levitated in the middle. On both sides of the screen so that the whole audience can see is a symbol.

The seal of the Capital. The seal of the Mogadorians.

There are thousands upon thousands of occupants here, separated in their correct system. One half of the arena is dressed well: bright colours and expensive furs and gaudy clothes. These are the Mogadorian citizens, waiting eagerly for the Calling to begin.

The second half is significantly different. They're dressed in thin and almost ragged clothes. Many are dirty and practically all look underfed. The mothers have tears streaked down their faces as they clutch their youngest children whilst the fathers hide their pain behind their emotionless faces. The children eligible for the Calling wait nervously, separated from their parents.

These are the Loric. They've lived 13 terrible years in the Mogadorian Occupation.

Around the whole arena are the Soldiers. These are Mogadorian warriors, wearing long, black trench coats and clutching their cannons. They're ready for a disturbance in the Loric crowd and they're not afraid to shoot.

It wouldn't be the first time a Loric has been killed at the Calling.

There's a rustling in the Mogadorian civilian's side and then suddenly a huge cheer erupts in the arena as a monster steps onto the stage. With filthy blond hair, staggering height and a terrible face, this is the recognisable figure of the Mogadorian leader, Setrakus Ra.

The national anthem blares and the Mogadorians voices rise high in pride and arrogance. The Loric's lips also move with the words but not through loyalty but because they have no other choice.

The anthem stops and the crowd cheer, waiting for their Beloved Leader to speak. When he does, the voice is so terrible many of the younger Loric children hide closer into their mothers' arms, terrified beyond words. The voice is filled with cruelty and hatred and malice.

It's the voice of a dictator…a murderer.

"Today is the day we have all been waiting for!" the leader ends his glorious speech and the mogs roar in approval. "Today is the day when we choose our next Tributes!"

The mogs are ecstatic, jeering at the Loric as well as cheering their Beloved Leader. He's grinning a wild, triumphant grin as he approaches a round bowl, filled with slips of paper.

Names of Loric children.

The Funeral Games happen every year. 30 Loric are selected and thrown into three terrible rounds for which they have to fight to survive. 30 Mogadorians volunteer themselves for their task to fight and kill the Loric.

All Loric involved are between 10-18 years old. There have been a few Loric survivors over the past years and even though they're allowed to go back to ordinary lives, they're never the same again. You can never recover from the Games.

The leader approaches the bowl, grinning at the crowds' evident tension: the Loric's fear and the Mogs' elation. He rummages in the bowl and then catches a slip of paper, pulling it out and waiting for complete silence. He goes back to the centre of the stage and then finally, finally announces a name.

The crowd goes wild as the first child to be picked is sent down to the seats saved for the Tributes. The boy chosen is almost faint with fear but he manages to make it, waiting to see who else will be chosen.

Half an hour later and all the children have been chosen. They stand; all terrified and all hopeless as they look at the mogs they will have no chance of defeating.

"Let the Games begin!" Setrakus Ra announces from his place on the stage. "And let the odds be ever in your favour"

So, next chapter will be up sometime next week since this was a short chapter. Hope you enjoyed and understood the concept, if not just PM me or ask something in a review.

Please review!