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As the crowd quiets down once more, Mak steps forward to say some final words before we carry out our duty of walking unprotected into a boiling spring.
“I’m very honored to see our community gathered for another traditional rite that hasn’t been held on this planet for centuries,” he begins. “The first event like this was our mate-bonding ceremony, although I’m not sure as many of you recall that one… At least not based on the amount of drinking I bore witness to that night…”
He grins as the crowd laughs, ever the charmer.
“On that day, I felt one with this planet, perhaps for the first time since we claimed it. It’s not easy to feel at home in a place you’ve never been. I’m sure many of you feel the same as we try to acquaint ourselves with the ways of the past.
“And while I want nothing more than to embrace the Archaic ways, do not confuse that for becoming lost in them. I will walk into the pool and hope that it proves me the rightful inheritor of this land. We’ve fought for this planet, against the invaders that the spirit itself reached up through the crust to expel.
“Now, it has been suggested by a few from among our community that the one before that needs Proving is none other than my Ka’lakkori. There have been rumors about the fact that she’s human, that she’s different, that she cannot experience the mate-bond as Kar’Kali do.”
There’s a hush through the audience, everyone holding their breath at the seriousness in Mak’s tone.
“Anyone who has the guts to speak those rumors to my face is welcome to walk hand in hand with me into that blazing pool,” he thunders, his voice echoing off the marble walls of the ruined temple. “The only proof I need to call Francesca my Ka’lakkori is the red blood running through my veins. Should she step into this pool and burn her perfect, delicate feet… I dare those who doubt her to stand up and tell me that I should be your leader no more.”
I keep my expression steeled, even if my heart is thumping out of my chest.
“Because hear me now on this matter. I will not be swayed. If this planet does not accept my wife, I will abandon it for her. If you, my people, do not accept my mate, then I humbly ask you to find another to serve in my place. But, if that be the case, I beg you to show me the Kar’Kali among you who would choose differently!” He is shouting the last statements, holding his arms out as if to say ‘take me or leave me.’
My stomach flutters as I wonder just what he was thinking, but before I have even a second to fear the reaction, cheers and cries of encouragement burst forth from the crowd. Those that were seated on bleachers hop to their feet to wave their hands and stomp their feet. Some of the mated couples among them lift one partner in the air and call out vows of their own stalwart loyalty.
Without waiting for them to settle, he turns his back on the audience and strides straight for the Proving Pool.
I wait at the water’s edge, trying to project a sense of serenity even as my heart is full to bursting. As soon as he is deep enough, he swoops up his arms and dives into the waters without an ounce of hesitation. He’s underneath the surface for a while. With my hands clasped tight together, I wait to see him. The audience becomes nearly quiet again, whispering in amazement when we hear the splash of him emerging again and the gasp for air when his head appears.
He dives again, swimming further before reappearing in the misty distance as a mere silhouette.
He holds out his arm and calls, “Francesca, to me!”
Like a thrall to his voice, I move toward him, knowing with sudden certainty that I, too, would follow him anywhere.
My first steps into the water are slow but steady. They sear, stunning my feet and ankles with heat so intense that my nerves confuse it for icy coldness for a moment. I grit my teeth, stepping further until the pool is lapping against my thighs. I drag my fingers over the surface, and they tingle with dull pain at the tips.
As I continue, the blood in my veins starts to feel like it’s boiling. I’m no longer aware of the reactions behind me, fully entranced by the strange sensations moving through my body. My soaked skirt is heavy as it drags through the rippling water.
The edge of my sleeve catches fire, shocking me with fear that I’ve failed the test already, but when I dunk my arm under the surface, I feel no more pain than the tingling across my skin that I’ve grown used to. If the steam ahead of me is hot enough to light a fire, then I’ve already won. I should be writhing in pain. I reach my other arm out towards the bubble of superheated steam that I know is there but cannot see. Patches of fabric start to burn, but my skin still hasn’t.
No more hesitation, I decide. I’ve impossibly come this far when all evidence suggests I should be gravely injured by now. I wade deeper and deeper, feeling the wall of superheated steam hit my face like stepping out of an air-conditioned movie theater on a humid summer’s day. It’s invisible but potent, burning the parts of my dress that remain above water.
Armed with renewed confidence, I plunge into the pool and dive forward until I’m fully drenched.
Once I’m under the surface, what appeared to be a peaceful body of water sounds more like a muffled war zone. I hear thumping and hissing like bombs and open my eyes in the hopes of understanding what’s below me.
I’m hovering in the shallow, peering down into a pit. There, in the deepest part of the pool, shafts of bubbles and clouds of ashy white rise from the black-blue recess and then dissipate before it can reach the surface.
With the tip of my toe on the edge of the pit, I stretch up to the surface for a breath of air. When I’m ready again, I dive under and swim down for a better look at the source of the pool’s heat. There’s a blue glow down there, a near-neon blaze oozing out of the earth. I get a mere glimpse of the globs of lava before they contact the water and burst into a column of transforming matter, cooling to become rock in an instant. This is the source of the explosive sounds and the clouds blocking my view. I stare for longer than I should, fascinated by the phenomenon that most cannot witness firsthand.
I should be boiling alive, I think distantly as the bubbles created by a particularly large ooze of kali tickle my skin as they pass by me. Ash drifts to me along with them, sticking to my bare skin where it shows through my ruined dress. I capture a handful of the white cloud between my palms.
Accepted, it seems to whisper through every boom and crash of magma changing form. Embraced.
I feel eerily peaceful there, tempted to descend further and touch the forbidden crevice from which the planet’s energy flows. My throat claws for air again, but I hesitate to enjoy the moment for seconds longer. There should be nothing serene about this evidence of Mother Nature’s most violent abilities.
And isn’t the Kar’Kali spirit, the one they call Kali’Ka and worship so loyally, just another version of Mother Nature as we call it on Earth? As I relent to my need for air, I wonder whether what I’m feeling is spiritual or not. The Deadheads would argue it was all in my head, but Mak might tell me it was the spirit’s touch and the spirit’s whisper. Is the burning in my veins and the tingling in my nerves a mere symptom of this heat that should harm me? Or are they something more, the kiss of an unseen entity on my foreign biology?
I kick my legs until I reach the opposite edge of the cavity, then use it to push off. I gain the speed I need to break the surface and take a grateful gulp of air. The air feels surprisingly cool on my cheeks compared to the hot tempest below, even though I know it’s deadly hot. But no fires will light on me now that I am drenched head to toe, so I take my time treading toward the place where my feet touch and the steam becomes thick white clouds mixed with breezy gusts of heavenly cool air.
I rise from the water with the wet, ruined remains of my gown clinging to my skin. If it weren’t plastered to me, I’m sure it would fall away, as the shoulders and sleeves are kept together by mere threads in some places. I dare to hold up my palm for a good look at myself. The skin is pinker than ever, like I’ve had an unfortunate day in the sun.
