The Flare

Chapter 1 Naron, 20.5 Light-years from Earth, first planet from the Gliese Sun.   The crowd did not roar...did not cheer...did not breathe. The silence screamed in Salona's ears as she stood alone, naked at the center of the arena. Her body was adorned for the ceremony, streaks of white and blue paint covered her breasts and trailed to the vee at the junction of her thighs forming the ancient Naronian symbol of female fertility. Strings of jewels hung over her shoulders, indicating decacycles of wealth and prestige provided by her family. She was the first Turah female to wear these jewels in over six generations as she was the first female born to the Turah family in six decacycles. Her opening ceremony was awaited by thousands of males seeking a wife. As the daughter of Yavon Turah, third husband to Utakia Pabor, wife of the Commander, she would add high honor to whichever men she chose as her husbands. Salona’s flare ceremony brought great excitement and scandal to Naron. She was daughter to a third husband. Third husbands were never so fortunate to be blessed with a daughter. The Dabanian disease had ravaged Naronian genetics so thoroughly only first husbands were pure enough in blood to ignite their wife’s flare and create a female offspring. Salona was the offspring of a less than pure union raising questions about her viability. The world waited to see who this aberrant female would choose for a husband. Her notoriety alone would bring honor to whomever she chose. Salona and her family had gone to great lengths preparing her for this event. Since before she could walk she was plucked, primped and prodded. The moment was built up in her mind as one of the greatest in her life. It was the moment her life would actually begin, when everything she'd been taught would come into play. The years of preparation and planning for her role as the wife of three husbands--the excitement of birthing the many children she envisioned, it all raged inside her. The moving between houses, the proper raising of children by fathers and her future role as a primal mother. Salona was in the arena with a disadvantage. She was unable to partake in the mother daughter conclave. She had to  make due with what her father and brothers could tell her. All she knew, all she’d been told, simultaneously scared and exited her. She was unsure of what her body would do, how the flare would rule her mind. But she was also excited to fulfill her family's dreams and hopes. Any moment now the flare would start, helping her find the first of her husbands. Her pure husband. He would be first in her thoughts and her duty. Because her body would only choose a pure man, it was to him she would bear a female child, the golden chalice of all duties beheld by women. Her second and third husbands would abate the burning desires raging her body gaining sons as their reward. And she would do her duty; she would birth a daughter to her first husband and continue the Turah line. Unlike her mother. The ceremony was scheduled immediately after the appearance of her prima blood. Seven millicycles after the proof of her fertility appeared, she was here, barer than she’d ever been in her life, standing in front of more people than she'd known existed. She had heard tales of what it would be like in the center of the arena, naked, for everyone to see. But those had not prepared her for what it would feel like. Standing there alone and naked except for her decoration, Salona felt 3,000 pairs of eyes peering into her every pore. Their scrutiny bore down on her like the infinite mass of a black hole. She swallowed hard, just trying to breathe. Everyone was waiting. She was waiting. Waiting for her body to wake up and give her the sign. The indicator that one of these men was made to k****e her flare and bring her body into womanhood. Every unmatched male on the planet gathered for each Flare Ceremony, hopeful they would be chosen as a mate. With fewer and fewer females born each year, it was becoming increasingly important. According to legend, Naronian females were burdened with a curse from the gods. The flare. The flare is punishment because of one woman’s rebellion long ago before even the curse of the Daban. Eranu, the Naronian god of reproduction, had a wife by the name of Nara. She was unbelievably beautiful but refused to birth children for her husband out of cowardice and vanity. She feared the pain of childbirth and changes in her body. In his anger Eranu cursed his wife. He made her crave him uncontrollably against and her will. He used his powers to make her body need his to survive. Henceforth, all Naronian women began to suffer the flare within seven millicycles after her first signs of puberty. Salona looked out at the faces watching her, wondering which of the brightly lit paths she would take to her first husband. She should feel it now. Her body should be wailing, driving her toward him. Salona looked at where the pure blood first sons sat, waiting for her to respond. If anyone could make her respond, he would be sitting there, his pure blood calling to hers. Nothing. On Naron, every female had a match, a man of pure blood with whom they would find harmony. Never had a woman been unmatched. It was why Naronian women were sheltered away from all males from moment of her birth. Eranu loved his children, especially his daughters. Girls were kept safe and sequestered, only seeing biological relatives until their prima blood. Seven millicycles have passed since Salona found the blood on her bed sheets. Her life, the life for which she had been waiting for so long, was about to begin. She would have three husbands and children. A family of her own. If only her body would cooperate. Salona closed her eyes, searching for direction. But quieter than the crowd was her body's failure to respond. I'm supposed to sense it. I'm supposed to know where he is. I'm supposed to find him. There was nothing. The lump in her throat was threatening to release itself in a scream. She swallowed it down. Moments turned into minutes. Salona turned in a circle, encompassing the grand arena in her gaze. Now if she could just figure out where the drak he was this ordeal could end. She stared at their faces, praying for some spark of recognition. They were all there. Every eligible male on the surface, together. Even the workers who populated the algae fields came hoping a female would choose them as even second or third husbands and raise their status to one of great honor. Like what her mother did for her father. But Salona sensed nothing. Looking upon all their faces she felt no strong pull, no deep desire to walk toward any of them. Isn’t that what she was supposed to feel? Was she supposed to do something else? If she didn't feel his presence, it could only mean one thing. The one thing she feared the most. She had no pure mate. She was a heretic. Just thinking the word terrified her. How was this possible? She had prepared for this moment. She wanted a husband, she wanted to have children. She had no desire to go against her faith. Yet here she was, her body making the decision for her. A wave of panic swam through her veins like boiling water. The sensation bubbled into her chest and flooded her lungs, suffocating her. If she was a heretic, she would die. Instead of beginning her family and regaining the Turah family honor she would curse them to greater shame and be thrown into the Voyd. Please, don't let this be happening! Her mind silently screamed for something. Anything. A cold hand startled her from the panic swallowing her body. "Salona?" Her father had come for her. How long had she been standing there? She looked into his eyes and saw the confusion she felt mirrored in them. She also saw the question mixed with fear. Salona shook her head in response to his silent plea. Nothing. "Heretic!" The voice came from the crowd. It broke the silence like a boulder dropping in a calm pool of water creating a tsunami rushing through the crowd. More men began screaming with outrage. The once silent mob roared to life, hurtling all manner of insults in her direction. To have no flare, to reject all males on her planet, was a female's worst nightmare. It meant no reproduction, no continuation. Without it, she would be useless and unwelcome. Without it, she would be dead. The fear simmering at the surface now boiled over and Salona grasped onto her father, hiding her body from the cruel words hurtled at her. "Heretic!" "Berake!" Frigid. "Father!" Salona begged, not sure what to do, scared of what was happening. He responded immediately, covering her nakedness with his cloak, rushing her away from the center of the crazed mob. The entire planet stopped all production and business for the arena flare ceremonies. The inconvenience stopping their lives in hope they will be chosen only for her to reject all of them coupled with planet wide fear of extinction, infuriated them. "Father! What is this? How?" Salona trembled, fear choking her voice. Sobs built up, causing her chest to swell, aching to burst. She was relieved her father had come for her, removing her from the public scrutiny. Before he could completely whisk her away a figure stood between them and the arena's exit. Geb, Commander of Naron, and unquestioned leader of their people blocked their escape. As Commander, he oversaw the Flare Ceremony, leading their people in the celebration of continued purity. And for very personal reasons he had great interest in Salona's flaring, or as it was, lack of. Commander Geb stood short and lean with short dark hair cut in a straight line around his face resembling a bowl. His dark brown eyes and pale skin gave him a haughty look he wore well. His family was of the purest blood on Naron with no link to disease or infection. Geb was the most honored male in Naronian society. He was also her mother’s first husband. "Yavon, explain yourself!" Geb barked. "She cannot leave this arena without a mate. Is this what you want? To bring more shame to your family? To me?" The question was directed at Salona. Geb’s eyes bored into her, forcing her to bury her face in Yavon’s shoulder to escape the accusation. "Geb, please." Yavon entreated. "She is scared." Salona couldn’t meet the Commander's eyes. She couldn’t bear to see the vile phrases bulleting out of the crowd mirrored on his face. If she saw that she would lose all sense of dignity and break down. She needed to find a corner where no one could see her and disappear. "No woman has ever left the arena without finding the counterpart, Yavon. You know what this means!" Geb’s voice shivered with indignation as he continued to block their passage out of this nightmare. "Has she been dampened?" He asked in a loud stage whisper. "How dare you!" Preventing or altering the female cycle was highly illegal. "Geb, she did not flare. There is no reason to subject her to this!" Yavon spoke the words Salona was dreading but knew were true. No flare. No flare meant she was not a woman. She was berake. And worse, the Council could determine her to be a heretic. Heretics, those who went against the Naronian faith and law, were punished by death. "Please, father." Salona begged almost inaudibly. "I will not have her brutalized!" Yavon snapped at Geb, taking charge of the situation, whisking her away from the crowd. Yavon tucked his daughter's slight body under his burly arm, shielding her face from Geb and other onlookers. He gave his leader a look strong enough to wither a lesser man and pulled his daughter past him, away from the hell inside the arena. "She has brought shame, Yavon!" Geb snarled, stopping them. "I will demand answers! Naran tests will need to be done." Naran tests? They were performed only for pregnant females by those charged with the sacred duty of ensuring physical health in the Nara Ward. Salona shivered in fear, her body convulsing under the cloak. Tests were illegal unless performed by order of the Council. And known to be highly invasive. "Father?" She whispered. Yavon ignored his Commander, pushing Geb aside so he could get his daughter out of the arena. They would face the repercussions another day when cooler heads and rationality returned to the crowd. Right now, Salona's safety was his priority. As they made their way through the gates, Salona pushed the cloak away from her face and peered back into the gaping hole leading back to the arena. The crowd was beginning to riot. Gods, what is wrong with me?