Fated

I

One thousand years ago, in a land molded by banks of rivers and mountain ranges, there lived a civilization divided by tribes according to a certain skill: magic, academe, agriculture, and battle. Each tribe had its own culture and pride which had lead to many disputes between the four. Many men and women have died in battle, greed, and anger.

To resolve the conflict in the emerald land, elders from the tribes created a tradition that ensured a symbol of peace and unity, of love and trust. Every ten years, two of the strongest youth in each tribe, one male and one female, were to marry another tribe's representative and provide a child to the male's home. This child will be trained to be the leader and future elder of the land.

This was the centennial year of that tradition and Kopra is the tenth female representative of the Agra tribe. She produced the finest wheat, dairy, and berries in all the land which fed the fifty thousand tribesmen of Laya. Today, she was to meet the elders of her tribe to discuss her departure.

Kopra stared at the water in the barrel and saw herself crying. She was to wed. At eighteen years of age. Girls her age were still flirting with boys, barely knowing a man's touch but she had to go straight to a marital bed. All for the sake of tradition.

How did this make any sense? Will putting a ring on her finger stop big-headed men from boasting what they can and can't do? Will giving birth to a child prevent wars? Is her child going to be a god?

All of the reasons seem amiss. This felt like a lovesick teen-written plot instead of a guided solution by the wise. In short, it was stupid. But what can a girl do to stop a hundred-year-old tradition? Say no? That's not good enough, not even for her. Run away? But where? The situation seemed hopeless.

Just when Kopra decided to run to the hills and scream, her mother went through her tent with a white linen dress thrown over her shoulder. Her feet crunched the stems of wheat the teenager set for her humble abode, and with each step, the poor girl's heart sunk even deeper down her throat.

Jaella thrust forward the dress to her daughter, "Here. The elders expect you to be there in an hour. Look pretty." She barely looked at her child. Out of sadness or shame for lying to Kopra, one would have to ponder on that.

Kopra, even as a child, excelled in anything she dipped her finger on. She was the first of her batch to ride a horse, successfully grow a crop, read and write efficiently, and talk complete sentences. She even acknowledged the fact that she was different from the rest when it came to learning and applying lessons but she was still a kid. She wanted to play and make friends with the rest of the village.

Unfortunately for her, she was worshipped thus, she became untouchable. At a young age, she was chosen to be one of the fated so it was only natural people kept their distance as if she would break the moment they spoke to her. How ironic, one would think, when she was one of the most capable people in the village and yet people fear they could hurt her.

Kopra took the dress and turned away from her mother. One more moment of looking at Jaella would devastate her. She knew her mom loved her and she too was against the arrangements but this was destiny, according to the elders. It shouldn't be stopped, they would say.

"I'll get ready myself. You can wait outside." Kopra said gently. Jaella was baffled, she was about to protest but then there was no use reasoning with her daughter. Even if the child was soft-spoken, each word was thought out and weighed. There was no winning with her, especially today.

The tradition dictates that when the fated get ready to leave their homes, their parents help them get ready. It was taught in schools that this was a sign of farewell and letting go. Like pulling a plant out with all of its roots, Kopra would think. And then planting it on a land randomly, not studying if the soil was fit or the weather was right, and expect the poor thing to bear fruit.