Chapter CLI: What is supposed to be known

Isabella entered the grand temple of fire alone, the tall walls flickering with the light of countless candles. She moved quietly past the stone arches and into the main hall, where a priestess noticed her presence, bowed, and escorted her toward a secluded chamber.
There, in the shadows of the dimly lit room, Isabella saw a familiar face—the High Priestess, the same woman who had warned her, long ago, that lying with the Dragon King would bring war. Isabella remembered the tremor in the old woman’s voice, the cryptic words that had haunted her ever since: "You have fallen once, and risen again. And when you fall once more, you shall rise even higher."
The prophecy echoed through her mind, and she felt a chill. She had indeed fallen, many times—first when she was torn from her homeland and thrust into the Dragon King’s harem. But she had risen, rising above all others to bear his heir and become one of the wealthiest women in the kingdom. Then she fell once more, when betrayal had driven her from the palace with nothing but her newborn son and a few loyal allies. Yet again, she rose, higher than before—leading armies, taming a dragon, and returning not as a concubine, but as his queen.
The High Priestess inclined her head and addressed her with reverence, “Dragon Queen. I had not expected to see you here.”
Isabella’s gaze was stern, her voice low. “You could have told me, you know. You warned me that my actions would bring war—but you didn’t tell me it would be me who’d set the flames.”
The High Priestess's face softened, her gaze ancient and wise. “If you had known, would you still have walked this path?”
Isabella’s shoulders sagged slightly as she sighed. “Perhaps not… but I would have been prepared.”
The High Priestess replied gently, “The flames reveal what must be known and nothing more. Even I do not always understand the truth of what they say.”
Isabella exhaled, releasing some of her frustration. After a moment of silence, the High Priestess looked at her with curiosity. “What brings you here today, alone?”
Isabella hesitated, her voice barely above a whisper. “I… can’t seem to carry a child anymore. I’ve lost them, one after another. If there’s no way to change it, then at least tell me why.”
The High Priestess studied her, the depth of her gaze unnerving, yet soothing. “Do not worry yourself, Dragon Queen. The flames are clear on one thing… you shall conceive again.”
Isabella’s face hardened, skepticism flashing in her eyes. “I’ve lost four children in a year,” she whispered, her voice thick with pain. “I can’t keep going through this. I can't bear the thought of another miscarriage… Are you certain?”
The High Priestess’s gaze drifted downward, her voice soft and contemplative as she murmured, “The queen who wants it all…”
Isabella’s brow furrowed. “What did you say?”
The High Priestess looked at her knowingly. “The queen who won the war, who tamed the Dragon, who rose each time she fell…”
Impatience edged into Isabella’s tone as she cut her off. “So, are you saying your gods demand that I fall again if I am to bear another child?”
The High Priestess shook her head. “No, my queen. The eternal flames have no further desires from you. Their will was satisfied with the heir of the Dragon.” Her gaze sharpened, meeting Isabella’s. “The burdens you bear now… these are no longer matters for the flames. If your heart aches and you seek solace, it is to the gods of your homeland that you must turn. They alone hold the answers you seek.”
Isabella’s heart felt heavy as she flew through the twilight sky, her dragon, Massin, gliding smoothly beneath her. She stopped on a hill overlooking Rosehall, the silhouette of her homeland bathed in the warm, fading glow of the setting sun. The breeze caressed her face as she watched the valley below, a pang of nostalgia and freedom intertwining within her. She dismounted, leaving Massin to rest on the hill, and walked alone for hours until she reached a modest village nestled within the heart of Allendor.
The villagers, simple farmers and traders, gaped as she passed. To them, she was no ordinary queen but an ethereal figure—her auburn hair cascading down, her leather attire regal yet unassuming, her presence commanding a quiet reverence. As she made her way to a small temple devoted to Uma, goddess of mothers, wives, and children, her steps softened. The temple was simple, adorned with flickering candles and the thick scent of incense swirling in the air.
Standing before the statue of Uma, Isabella admired its gentle face, hoping to find answers to the lingering uncertainty the fire priestess had awakened in her. She felt a sudden shift, and a voice broke the silence.
“What is it you’re praying for, child?”
Startled, Isabella turned and saw an elderly woman with clouded eyes, clearly blind. Curiously, Isabella asked, “How did you know I was here?”
The woman let out a warm chuckle. “I may be blind, but I can still sense the heavy breath of someone carrying a troubled heart.” She tilted her head knowingly. “Tell me, what brings you to Uma’s temple?”
Isabella hesitated, but her words soon spilled out. “I’m a mother. I have four beautiful children, a husband who loves me, and wealth beyond measure.” She took a shaky breath, her voice softening. “I don’t really want for anything… I just don’t know what else is expected of me.”
The old woman reached out, her hands steady. “Ah, my dear, being a mother holds the cruellest expectation of all—to raise your children well enough that they leave you.” She smiled gently. “Isn’t that awful? We teach them to walk, to eat, to fend for themselves… all so they can face a world we know doesn’t deserve them.”
A small, bittersweet chuckle escaped Isabella’s lips, a warmth softening her features.
The old woman’s voice softened. “There is nothing more expected of you than the sacrifice you will eventually make—to lose your babies to the men and women they’re meant to become. What more could anyone, or any god, possibly ask of a mother?”
As Isabella closed her eyes, a feeling of calm settled over her. She inhaled deeply, her troubled thoughts quieted, replaced by a fierce sense of purpose and acceptance.
Isabella landed at the palace as dusk fell, the fiery sky framing her return. Without hesitation, she made her way to the royal office, her boots echoing softly in the halls. Alaric was seated at his desk, surrounded by scrolls and maps, eyes lifting as she entered.
"You disappeared for two days," he said, a trace of humor in his voice. "I was beginning to worry you weren’t coming back."
A small smirk tugged at Isabella’s lips. "I wouldn’t have left the children behind if I had plans to run away again."
Alaric’s chuckle filled the room, warming it with familiarity.
Isabella took a breath, her expression shifting from light to serious. "I needed time to think," she admitted. "I was searching for answers."
He set down the scroll he was holding and gave her his full attention. "Did you find them?"
"Perhaps," she said softly. "But deep down, I think I always knew." She stepped closer, eyes meeting his with unwavering determination. "I agree we need to prepare one of our children to rule from Rosehall when Ikkar becomes king. Zayr should remain here to be his brother's strong second… which leaves Kai as the most suitable choice. It will break my heart, but we didn't bring these children into the world just for ourselves."
Alaric’s gaze softened, absorbing her words with a mixture of pride and empathy. She continued, her voice steady despite the ache beneath it. "My father never prepared me for the future he had built, leaving me to stumble in the darkness of innocence. I won't let that be my children’s fate. They will be prepared. They will know what awaits them."
Alaric nodded thoughtfully. "We will prepare him," he promised. "We’ll wait until he’s old enough to ride a dragon, so he can always return when he wishes."
A faint smile touched Isabella’s lips as the weight of her decision settled. "Do you think he will come back to us?" she asked, the question tender, almost fragile.
Alaric’s eyes, usually so fierce, softened to a rare gentleness. "My parents were cruel, and yet, even so, I think I would have returned to them if I could. Kai will come back to us," he said, certainty in his voice.
Isabella's smile deepened, touched with hope and acceptance. She reached for his hand, squeezing it as they stood in the quiet glow of the office, prepared to face the future together.

***

Seven months later, the Dragon Queen gave birth to her fifth child, a boy named Mahir, meaning "promise."