Isadora's Tale

A Story by Henry Garner

The tale of The High Priestess Isadora's journey to confront an ancient evil and end the tyranny of the Dragon Emperor.

A smile spread slowly across her lips as she watched the young girl’s short silvery blue curls bounce wildly as she sprinted around the court yard, giggling with abandon as her snowy beast bounded after her. The young girl halted and plunged her hand into the snow-covered ground, scraping her nails against the ice as she scooped up a handful and molded it into a ball. The beast slid to a halt, lowering its upper body toward the ground as its tail wagged from side to side, pouncing at the girl as she tossed the snow ball, both of them tumbling into the snow as the beast relentlessly licked the girls face.

“They would do that all day if you let them.” A gentle voice broke the raucous laughter as the man leaned against the frozen pillar.

The woman glanced over at the man, studying his sharp hawkish features as he watched the beast help the young girl to her feet. A faint smile emerged from his thin lips as he turned to her, his cobalt eyes gleaming against his alabaster skin and hair, whiter than the purest snow, neatly tied back. There wasn’t a strand out of place, nor a thread in his white tunic, scrupulously decorated with intricate silver and royal blue designs.

“Are you really going to Vyathaen?” His eyebrow raised as he spoke.

“Yes, someone has to help them.” She said.

“That someone doesn’t have to be you.” He argued.

“And who would go in my stead? Who else would they listen to?” She questioned.

“You really think the Dragons will listen to you?” He said

“Alaric” She glared at him as he spat the word, Dragon, a name long since shed by the Scelestus. A word that would have resulted in his death if spoken in their presence.

“Mother, it’s a fool’s errand,” He retorted “and what will you have me tell Aelia when you don’t return.”

The woman pursed her lips as she glanced over at the young girl once more.

“Isadora,” She turned to face the man as he approached from behind, his turquoise hair falling over his shoulder as she looked up into his silver eyes, “The king will see you now.” He said.

“Thank you, Cyril” a faint smile emerged as she turned around and started down the corridor.

The waves crashed against the transparent ground, seemingly in sync with the clicking of her heels as she glided across the lustrous floor. Isadora gathered her snowy curls, ice crystalizing on her fingertips and encircling the hair in her grasp as she hoisted it up high on her head. The delicate layers of her white dress brushed across the top of her knee-high boots, comprised of the same bluish silver metal as her snowflake filigree epaulet’s and matching belt. The back of her royal blue floor length coat hemmed with decorative silver trim, flowed behind her as she traversed the long hall. Isadora hummed as she studied the halls, typically teeming with servants hurrying about and nobles exchanging the latest gossip. The smooth glass like pillars scrawled with patterns, standing in contrast to the frosted walls, rose and joined with the jagged arches high above the ancient halls.

Isadora forced a smile as she caught the eye of one of the women standing outside the grand door, her flawless pastel waves cascading down from the crystals that crowned her head, lending a glint of blue to her silver gaze. Isadora’s heart pounded in her chest as the three women turned to face her.

“Priestess” the crowned woman said as her lips curled upwards, the weight of the years wearing her crown setting deep into the corners of her mouth and the grooves beneath her eyes. She tugged at the voluminous skirt of her deep blue dress, the ruched bodice ensuring she maintained her posture as she bent ever so slightly at the waist, her companions following suit with a much deeper bow.

“Eira” Isadora nodded, hurrying through as the guards pulled the massive doors open for her. A hearty laugh reverberated through the halls as she passed under the threshold, hundreds of globes hanging like droplets on crystallized strings illuminated the vast chamber, pillars lining the path to the lone throne set upon a platform. Half way between her and the throne stood two men.

“A conversation for next time” the man on the left said as he smacked his slender hand across the sturdy back of his companion, grinning from ear to ear as she drew closer.

“I look forward to it” his companion stated as he turned to Isadora, his gray eyes alight with joy, “Isadora” a lock from his perfectly coiffed turquoise hair brushed across his forehead as he bowed before her, grinning as he righted himself and took his leave.

The smile had faded from the man’s face as she turned back to him, his long silvery blue hair draped in front of his shoulders as he neatly folded his hands behind his back. “Alaric tells me you have it in your head that you ought to run off and save the Dragons from themselves.” He mocked, his hawkish features contorting into an all too familiar scowl. She winced at the resemblance.

His words hung in the air for a long moment, “I had hoped to leave Aeliana in the care of her father until I returned,” Isadora responded.

“I told you on the day that little b*****d was born that I had no need for a daughter, you had your chance to dispose of her, she’s your burden now.” He turned his back to her, making his way to the lone throne. “And if you set off on this fool’s errand you will be forever banished from Glacieum.” He said as he settled into his silver throne, already knowing her answer.

Isadora clenched her jaw, her gaze hardening as she narrowed her eyes and drew her brows together. She drew a deep breath, biting her lip as she mulled over her response. She exhaled slowly as King Alastair smiled smugly down his slender nose at her. She turned on her heel, exiting as quickly as she had entered.

The monumental doors slammed shut behind her, fine cracks cutting deep into the thick ice with every step. She shook her head as the cracks began to splinter, racing along the floor and up the walls, chips of the once flowing patterns clattering on the floor behind her as she passed. Her eyes welled up with tears at the pang in her heart. She winced as all the things she knew she should have said raced through her head, the light flooding in and reflecting off the crystalline walls as the courtyard came into view. A shrill shriek pierced the silence as she crossed the threshold, Aeliana bounced in her brother’s arms as he contorted his face, she smacked his cheek as he puffed it out. Alaric laughed as Aeliana peeked over her shoulder.

“Ma!” Aeliana extended her arms out as Isadora approached. Aeliana wrapped her arms around her mother’s neck as Isadora took her into her arms and kissed her cheek as Isadora balanced her on her hip.

“Well, how did it go?” Alaric inquired.

Isadora released a guttural grumble as she walked past him.

“So, better than expected?” Alaric asked as he strode alongside her with Cyril in tow.

“You know how your father is.” She replied.

“What will you do? If you defy him they’ll never let you back inside the city.” He said.

“Cera has called upon me for this task and I must see it through.” Isadora responded, her pace quickening as they approached the castle gate.

Alaric frowned as he cast a sidelong glance at her, the distant chiming of bells and singing of hymns filling the silence as the castle’s gates fell behind them and the gleaming city spread out around them. “Mother, wait” He placed his hand on her shoulder, looking her in the eye as she halted and turned to face him, “If you feel this is something you absolutely must do, then I stand behind you.”

Isadora’s expression softened as she looked into Alaric’s eyes, then to the mass of curls resting on her shoulder. Her throat constricted as she brushed the hair from Aelia’s face, tucking it behind her ear as she kissed her head. Aeliana looked up at her, her face smooshed against Isadora’s shoulder as her curls sprung out from behind her ear and fell across her face once more.

“Behave for your brother, okay?” Aelia shook her head, smiling mischievously as Isadora pried her daughter from her side and handed her to Alaric. “Yes” Isadora insisted as Aeliana collapsed against her brother.

“Be safe, Aelia needs her mother.” Alaric said as he looked into his mother’s eyes.

“I love you both” Isadora said, placing her hand on his arm as she pulled herself high enough to kiss his cheek, “Take care of each other.” She squeezed his arm before letting go and turning on her heel. Isadora strode to the edge of the platform and placed her hand over her heart, a stream of water being drawn out, swirling into a ball in her palm as she pulled her hand away. She tipped her hand, the ball of water toppling to the ground, spreading into a puddle, the edges racing upwards and collapsing inwards upon each other. The form of a sleek beast appeared, raising its horned head to the sky as it shook off the shards of ice that formed its wintry coat. The beast twitched its long cupped ears and short bushy tail as Isadora reached up and scratched between the beast’s long slender icicle like horns.

“Ready, Prudentia?” Isadora asked as the beast nuzzled her arm.

Prudentia folded her legs underneath her as she lay before Isadora, allowing her to climb on her back before pushing herself to her feet. Isadora glanced over her shoulder at Alaric as he rested his head on Aelia’s, who was fast asleep, her heart sunk as he smiled at her. Prudentia leapt over the edge, ice forming under her hooves as she bounded across the vast open seas and toward the distant shore.

Spindly white branches tore at her, sloughing off strands of her icy armor as Prudentia weaved between the towering white trees, translucent purple leaves rustling in the wind as they sprinted through the ancient forest. Isadora jolted forward as Prudentia skid to a halt, a blood curdling scream silencing the chorus of birds as underbrush mashed under Prudentia’s pearly hooves.

“Cephas!” the lyrical voice cried out, echoing through the forest around them.

Prudentia’s ears swiveled wildly as Isadora leaned close, listening intently as she rested her hand on her beast’s muscular neck.

“Let him go!” The high-pitched voice cried out once more, Prudentia’s ears honing in as a crashing sound reverberated through the trees.

Isadora slid down from Prudentia’s neck, scratching her gently as she caught her eye, “Stand guard.” She whispered as she slipped off into the trees, freezing the ground under her feet to eliminate the sound of her footsteps as she cautiously traversed the forest. Isadora clung closely to a tree as several tall broad figures standing at the center of a circle flattened trees came into view, their gold and red armor glinting in the slivers of light seeping through the dense canopy above them. The clang of metal rang through the forest as one of the men clamped restraints on a woman who was nearly half his height. The gem on the cuffs gleamed with a crimson glow as the girl’s rich deep brown hair and the green speckles on her sun kissed skin faded and turned brittle as the bark of the Lyran trees that surrounded them. The white petals weaved into her purple silken gown withered and browned as she collapsed on the forest floor. Isadora’s grip tightened on the white bark as the soldiers shifted, bones grinding and cracking as their bodies expanded, their armor and skin melding to become scales that glistened like glass in the light that poured into the clearing as their massive bodies felled the trees around them. Two of the soldiers grasped the Lorians in their onyx claws, throwing their horned heads back as they spread their leathery wings. Isadora braced herself against the tree as they soared above the canopy with a massive beating of their wings. She pushed off of the tree as they ascended, bounding over fallen tree limbs and bramble as she raced toward Prudentia, pulling herself onto her beast’s back, they followed the glimpses of shadows and beating of wings toward the east.

Chiara’s luminescent rings filled the night sky as the trees before them began to thin, the lavender gem’s pale glow staving off the deepening shadows at their backs. Prudentia’s pace slowed as a stark white wall of stone rose before them, spreading out on either side of them for as far as the eye could see. Prudentia shifted her weight and stomped as Isadora surveyed the area, scanning the wall from top to bottom Where were the guards? She pondered as she shifted her gaze from the highest point to the farthest. There was no sign of the gates or the ending of the wall on either side. Isadora sighed as she slipped off of Prudentia’s back, starring up at the wall as Prudentia fell into countless shard of ice, melting and seeping into the ground upon impact.

“Looks like I’m going through.” Isadora said as she lowered her right hand to her side, she flipped her palm toward the sky, ice crystalizing and rising below her feet as she raised her hand until it was flush with her chest. Her icy platform melted into a puddle behind her as she stepped over the battlement and onto the walkway, crouching behind the wall, she peered through the breaks in the defensive wall and down at the town. The tall narrow wood houses lined the well-maintained cobblestone roads, practically stacked upon one another, their windows shuttered and boarded. The clanking of an unknown object echoed through the streets as the wind whistled through the alleys. She placed her hands on top of the cool stone wall as she leaned forward, her head peeking over the edge as she caught sight of something moving out of the corner of her eye. The door of the house closest to her crashed down as the sky flooded with crimson light, houses sporadically lit up as the flames spread, engulfing everything in its path. Isadora’s breath caught in her throat as a piercing scream rose above the roaring flames as an armor-clad man drug a young girl from the house below, citizens fleeing past her as she struggled to free herself.

“Mom!” the young girl cried out as she pulled her arm free and sprinted back toward the house, the man ripping her already tattered gown as he wrestled her to the ground, the girl kicking and screaming as he pinned her down and pulled up her dress.

Isadora clawed the round cobalt gem from her necklace as she climbed over the wall, the gem elongating as she squeezed it in her clenched fist. The armor-clad man looked up as she landed from her icy slide and swung her staff upwards, knocking him backwards as it connected with his chin, he lay still as the girl sat up and pulled her dress down to cover herself. Isadora offered her hand to the girl who couldn’t have been much older than her own daughter, her long amethyst curls fell over her shoulder as she took Isadora’s hand. The girl thanked her as Isadora gazed into her soulful gold speckled crimson eyes.

“My mother” the young girl said as she sprinted back into the house with Isadora in tow as she held tightly to her hand.

Isadora stumbled over the splinters of furniture and broken glass littering the dimly lit space. “Mom!” the girl cried out as she shoved a chair aside revealing a woman propped up against the far wall, an armor-clad man lying lifeless beside her with a bloodied dagger and sword next to him, the girl released Isadora’s hand as she knelt at her mother’s side. Isadora clenched her fist around her frozen staff as she watched the woman reach out and place her hand on the young girl’s dirt stained tan cheek, “Zaelera” she said, wincing as she pressed her hand to the blood-soaked dress over her stomach. Zaelera’s face contorted, her eyes reddening and swelling as she placed her hand atop her mother’s blood-stained hand.

Isadora stepped forward, laying her staff down as she knelt alongside Zaelera. She placed her right hand over her heart as she glanced into the woman’s gold eyes, her breathing becoming increasingly ragged and her eyes heavy as Isadora drew out a globe of liquid from her core. Zaelera removed her hand as Isadora lowered her hand towards the woman’s, gently removing it with her left as she pressed her right hand to the woman’s wound. A pale blue light emanated from Isadora’s hand and the flesh below as the liquid seeped into the deep wound and repaired the torn flesh, racing though her veins, she glowed with the ethereal light as it filled her body. Zaelera’s mother grabbed Isadora’s hand as the light dispersed, “Thank you” she said, tears streaming down her cheeks as Zaelera fell against her breast. Isadora glanced over her shoulder as the two embraced “We need to get out of here,” she said as she scooped up her staff, leaning her weight on it as she pulled herself to her feet. Zaelera’s mother squeezed her daughter tight before they both climbed to their feet. Isadora turned, her muscles tightening and her back growing ridged as she peered through the open doorway filling with smoke, the sound of boots stomping growing ever closer. The three of them sprinted out the door, Isadora holding her arm in front of them as a woman ran past them with a baby wrapped tightly in her arms.

“This way,” Zaelera cried, pulling her mother’s hand as she ran toward the alley leading behind their home.

Panels of ice crystalized around Isadora, levitating around her, ash and ember swept across the panels as a squadron of crimson plated dragons soared overhead. She raised her staff as the dragon at the head of the formation locked eyes with her. The ground beneath her feet shook, houses collapsing in the distance and as the beast roared. Streams of water, slush, and shards of ice flowed from the head of her staff; swirling around her as she lifted her staff skyward. White light flooded from her staff, clearing the smoke and soot before her as fragments arose from the streams, solidifying into razor sharp icicles. With a single brilliant burst the light was extinguished. Isadora’s staff clattered on the ground, ice and water raining down atop her as she shrieked in pain, her hand shooting down to hold her abdomen, her fingers splayed around the violet metal shaft of the arrow that had pierced her flesh. The luster drained from her skin and the sheen from her hair as she collapsed to her knees, her strength fleeting as she fought to hold on to consciousness. She swayed to the side, slamming her hand on the ground to steady herself, the world seemed to spin as the world blurred around her. Then the world went black.

A bleak grey stone slab, so perfectly smooth and polished it nearly seemed metallic, came into focus as Isadora forced her eyes open. Her shackles clanked against her belt as she moved her hand to her side and felt around the area where her flesh had been pierced. She winced as her skin sunk under her fingertips, searing pain shooting up her side from her unblemished skin. She stared at the ceiling as her mind raced with the possibilities of the reasoning behind her captors keeping her alive. Isadora turned on her side, her thoughts dissipating as the sound of gentle sobbing drew her attention. A petite figure huddled against the back wall of their cell, flecks of green shimmering on her skin. Her face was obscured by her long straight dark hair as she wept into her hands, her slender fingers splayed around the delicate tawny horns curving back from her forehead. Isadora pulled herself to her feet, placing her hand on the woman’s shoulder as she knelt before her.

“It’s okay, we’re going to get out of here.” Isadora said

“It doesn’t matter, they’re dead,” she gasped in between the words and sobs, “they’re all dead.” The girl said, lifting her head as metal keys clanked behind them, the lock creaking as the guard turned his key and pulled the cell door open. Isadora’s heart sank as she recalled the scene in the woods, she wondered what the girl’s relationship to the man was, and exactly how many more had been lost. What did “all” mean to her? Her mind raced as a soldier wrapped his massive gloved hand around her forearm and yanked her to her feet. Isadora’s words caught in her throat as another soldier yanked the young girl to her feet and drug her from the cell, the soldier holding Isadora’s arm pushing her out of the cell after the young girl and down the dimly lit hallway and under an arched landing leading down a steep narrow stairwell. Isadora stared down at the small round crimson gem set in her shackles as she descended the spiral stairwell, wedged between the two guards and the young girl.

“What’s your name?” Isadora whispered over the girl’s shoulder,

“Drinah” the girl answered back as they cleared the stairs and entered a vast open room. A grey chalky substance crunched under their feet as they followed a pathway cleared through piles of faintly glowing baubles of varying sizes and shapes, a wave of dread and the crushing weight of despair overwhelmed her as they reached the center of the room where a tall slender man with long fine metallic gold hair and flawless pale skin that glowed like moonlight stood next to a man of similar stature, tall and broad as a mountain with unruly brown locks and copper colored eyes. The guard behind Isadora pulled her back as the guard in front pulled Drinah forward and shoved her towards the slender man, his deep-set silver eyes fixing on Drinah as he reached his hand out toward her, the bight stream of her life force being drawn from her bathing his sharp features in a green glow. The cries of a thousand souls seemed to scream out as the baubles lit in unison, flooding the room with light as Drinah’s body turned to dust and fell before them as the slender man clenched his hand into a fist.

“How many more do you need?” Barked the mountain of the man standing beside him.

“Patience, Syrik.” Tyrius responded as he unclenched his fist and admired the green dimly glowing gem that had formed in the palm of his hand. He tossed the gem on to the pile as he shifted his gaze to Isadora. “Isadora” He said as he stepped in the pile of ash before him and approached her.

“Tyrius” she spat as she glared at him as he stood close enough to touch, positioning himself with a poise and grace that bore far too much resemblance to her own son.

“Surely you realize your goddess has played you for a fool, there isn’t a being short of Thrasys himself that can destroy me.” Tyrius sneered, “You’ll only find death here.” His hand was bathed in white light as he pressed it to Isadora’s chest.

“That was the plan.” Isadora stated as she summoned every ounce of her power, concentrating it into the snowflake necklace passed down from the first Ceran priestess. The red gem in her shackles shattered as the necklace amplified her power, sending her energy surging into Tyrius in a blinding burst.

Isadora’s snowflake necklace clattered on the floor as the light cleared, leaving behind a room devoid of all life, save for a few dimly glowing baubles, even they faded to black one by one as the dust settled.