Eddie smiles at the tributes, somehow she looks to be about 20, not 90, then steps down from the platform and begins walking between them, patting heads and shoulders. “My poor children,” she murmurs kindly, “my poor, poor children. Only one of you can survive, you know. I’m just here to help you all along.”
Eddie twitches a finger, and the trance ends. Suddenly, all the tributes are filled with a powerful anger towards each other.