The Takeover

She was given her name from the sun. Because when they captured her, they bound her hands and feet with thorn twine and forced her eyes open to gaze at the sun, their lips curled in a wicked smile as they waited for her to die. A slow agonizing death they expected, and so every city was invited—and ours commanded— to attend. My mother named her Selene. Today she is Ra, and they will see to it that she is forever branded in the memory of the world as such.

I watch beside the hazel tree, it’s branches arch over the barbed wire. I run a long finger along the leaves, stripping the ripe leaves from its branch.

I crush the leaves between my palms until hot, and something like dirt remains. Only a fool could imagine this working. But the healer said it would be my only shot; fool or not.

The speaker begins the list of accusations. They’ve chosen Abrus to read them, and he makes his disgust clear to us all, running his black forked tongue along her neck and jawline and spitting into her bulging eyes. Her body twitches, compulsively now, as a yellow glare coats her once olive skin. He is one of only 204 wise males left in the city of Lolt. As its highest officer, he is sought out for council, wisdom and above all — judgement.

“Males and—” lurking eyes scan the other half of the crowd, a metal wire fence surrounds us, a mockery of safety given what they allow to be done to us any other time of the year. “And females,” he continues, in an almost whisper. The crowd hisses and their mouths water at the sight of us. What they long to do to us when this is over.

“This female has a desire to die,” Abrus says, rubbing his palms together and scanning the crowd for any objections or naysayers. Nobody would dare say a word but Abrus is hungry tonight, and he’s going to need more than Selene to satiate his craving for vengeance.

“When a female's heart desires, there are only two options.” His long two fingers hang in the air.

Only the whites of her eyes show. Her mouth agape, a steady stream of foamy white drains from her mouth. “Option one, we give her what she desires. But there is a condition of course, if what she desires is forbidden then what she truly desires, but cannot say, is...to...die. The stronger desire always prevails. And with Ra, it is no different.” He turns away from the crowd and gazes at the whites of Selene's eyes.

“I gave you a lover Ra. At the prime age of 12. And after you so ungratefully rendered him unfit for your standards, rather than have you executed on the spot, as was befitting of your crime, I gave you more lovers, several more in fact to keep you—“ his lips curl upward, his eyes a flash of wickedness. “Satiated.” The crowd vibrates the ground underneath me.

Abrus hisses. Silence falls instantly over the land and I slow my chewing, carefully twirling my tongue around the hardened tool forming inside my mouth, kneading it into a pointed pendant. I release it gently into my palm. I wince, climbing to my feet and making my way through the crowd.

Abrus takes her bound hand and one by one cracks each of her fingers, breaking her bones in half and sending a hard shiver down my spine. I rub the onyx tool between my fingers, faster and faster.

Now, I whisper to myself. I glide through the pockets between females, and hide my scent with the nectar that emits from my pores, and turns my skin blush. I’ll be mistaken for a youngling and allowed to pass to the front, a privilege reserved for the very young—and impressionable to gruesome killings of females.

“One who disregards the hierarchy of nature, the privilege of servitude and obedience…” Abrus stares into the crowd, one by one branding his words into our consciousness as a reminder, a warning, for the price of desire.

“One less foolish female floating in our lands,” Abrus continues, throwing his neck back as he addresses Selene directly.

There are only a fraction of us left in the world; females. Our numbers are declining rapidly with all the accusations against us, and the result is a feverish desire to acquire us before we dwindle even further, into obliteration. The paradox lies in our numbers, for there aren’t enough females in the land, mere thousands, to mate with the hundreds of thousands of males that inhabit the world and create its governing rules. What’s left are constant wars over females, and accusations over their conduct.

The more gruesome punishments are reserved for infractions on matches. When a female mates or forms a bond with an unassigned male, or worse yet —falls in love, both acts are punishable by death of the most torturous in nature. Selene was discovered to have formed an attachment to a male. And worst yet, one who was not assigned to her, rendering her punishable on two counts.

“For thinking so highly of yourself, Ra,” Abrus continues, “more powerful than your governing officer, more powerful than the laws and rules of our world, and more powerful than the sun itself, you will die the death of the burning sun.”

The crowd abrupts in a high pitched cackle, their rage and thirst for the grotesque resists any lingering foresight to understand the consequences of yet another dead female.

I pass through the females. Hands pat my body, and fingers caress the long strands of hair down to my back. They miss younglings, and the sight of me must be both a relief, and a painstaking reminder of our status. At the front of the crowd, the barbed metal wire stands inches from my face. A solid but withered hand mingles with my own, and I ignore it until a heavy object is placed gingerly into my palm.

She coils my fingers over the object and whispers something I can hardly make out. Save her, the woman’s eyes seem to say when I raise my chin to meet her gaze. Tired lines map her face and scar tissue skin kneads through her shoulders and chest. She was beaten. I nod, and uncoil my fingers. A heart shaped locket, its chain muddied with rust.

My mother always told us their stories; generations of females before us who hid their precious jewels and stones, before the takeover. Any precious metal left in the soil has been laid deep underground by the takeover, its depths uninhabited by us.

I climb the barb wire, its shards of metal prick and stab my skin with each step. “Wait! Wait!” I call. Their heads turn, their eyes scan and coat every inch of my body. “Please!” My voice sounds small. Abrus’ eyes widen, a small smile on his lips. I plead once more. “Let me up, officer Abrus. And I’ll show you what I have. I believe it will be of interest to you.”

The crowd of males snicker. “Let’s hear the young female,” Abrus says, his voice steady and his eyes unblinking as he walks towards me. He reaches his hand to me, and I flinch at the realization that I’ll have to take his hand to reach over, to make it to the stage where Selene stands, her limbs shaking, and her skin the color of death. I grasp his hand, and he wraps his long fingers, swallowing my hand entirely in his. One swift motion and I’m on the stage. My tunic shredded along my stomach where the blades of metal scraped my skin.

“You have ten seconds before I tear the rest of you to shreds. Make your case for interfering in an execution,” Abrus says. My skin feels cold but my voice is steady.

“Let me touch her.”

Abrus chuckles, a rumbling snare of a laugh and my cheeks redden instinctively. “Five seconds.” He draws his blade from his belt and the crowd of males purr in delight. An eerie silence on the other side. “This.” The heart locket hangs between my fingers. A flicker of surprise in Abrus’ eyes and I realize Selene may have a chance. “It’s yours. But I want Sele— I want her,” I correct, pointing towards Selene.

“She’s as good as dead. What use is she to you now?” But I know I have him. For he would have killed me by now.

Whispers flow on both sides of the crowd. Abrus keeps his eyes on me, his lips a snare. Selene carries on twitching. I wonder if he’s right. Selene being good as dead.

“It’s yours,” I say, dangling the necklace away from me. “For her.”

Abrus likes a challenge, this I know, and maybe that’s why the courage rises in me. Abrus stalks slowly towards me, his feet brush the ground. Silence falls over the courtyard. His breath is hot and he inhales my scent deeply. It’s like he’s made of fire, every inch of him hot. Suddenly he grasps the locket in my hand, twirling our fingers together and bending my fingers back. I arch my back, grinding my teeth and forcing myself upright against his strength. He wraps me in his arms, yanking the locket and tucking it into his jacket, patting his chest approvingly. He whispers in my ear, “I love a bargain. She’s yours on one condition.”

“You have the locket,” I say, knowing by the look in his eyes that is not what he means.

“I do,” he mocks, and a faint laugh covers the land. “I want more,” he whispers in my ear in a rugged tone. “I want— you.” It’s ridiculous, this game, for we all know Abrus can make this arrangement without my consent, locket or not. But he wants me to agree, he desires my compliance, for reasons I’m too afraid to wonder about.

“Done,” I say, before I can change my mind.

The thorned twine and ropes immediately are cut from Selene; her body falls instantly with a hard thud to the ground. I run to her, folding her body into me, gathering her in as much as I can. Hot tears stream down my face and blur my vision. I take the powder from the onyx tool and shove it in her mouth, parting her dry and raw lips with my finger tips. She twitches, her eyes now closed.

Guards surround us and in one quick command from Abrus, I’m on my feet. Two guards on either side lift me away. I scream. My voice is hoarse and soft. “Please. No.” I beg, turning to Abrus. The small smile still hangs loosely on his lips. “You’ll see her again,” Abrus says in reply. Gagging noises sound from the stage and I turn my head as my feet drag on the ground, the nails of the guards piercing my flesh. It’s Selene. She’s alive. Her hands grasp her throat and she purges her insides onto the floor.

Heaving breaths graze her throat and the screams that come out of her send my skin crawling. A guard snaps his fingers and a female is summoned to the stage. It’s the woman who gave me the heart locket. A weary look on her face as she eyes me apologetically. She goes to Selene, and sprinkles a murky liquid over her twitching body. I don’t realize I’m screaming until a black cloth covers my face, and the hands of the guards grasp my arms again, dragging me away as I grip and contort my body in every which direction, struggling with all my strength, to come undone.