Unwilling

Isabelle sat quietly at the dining table in the middle of their small home. Her father, rested his head in his hands. Though a heavy burden was lifted from his shoulders, another, heavier, weight crushed him without mercy. Eventually, Isabelle spoke, “So, you want me to leave?”

Desmond felt like dying on the spot, “No, of course not. I want you here, I want to see you get married and have children of your own. I want you to take the forge from me when I become too old. I don’t want you to go anywhere.”

“Then why? Why should I leave?” She pleaded.

Desmond took his daughters hands into his own as he looked into her eyes, “You have to go, because if you don’t, by either the hands of the dragon that saved you so many years ago, or something else entirely will come and kill us anyway. Listen to me, if it had been anyone else, I would have given them a free sword and sent them on their way, but it wasn’t someone else. For some reason, the gods have allowed our paths to cross and Master Ragis has chosen you for a purpose. I wish I could give you more answers, and I wish I could go with you, but he was very clear.”

Isabelle, like her father, was on the verge of tears, “What’s going to happen to me?”

Fear gripped at Isabelle’s throat, and pain strangled Desmond’s heart. Desmond stood and pulled his daughter into a hug, “I don’t know. I don’t know, Belle. What I do know is that I don’t think master Ragis means you harm.” He pushed her back and held her at arms length, tears now falling down Isabelle’s face, “He said he needed a student and that one day, if you become strong enough, you can come back home. He said you could be strong enough that no one could stop you, and I believe that.”

Isabelle wanted to fall to her knees and cry. She wanted everything in the world to freeze in time, just long enough so that she could cry and pull together enough strength to hide her fear and anguish, at least from her father. She could see the pain and terror in his face, and she didn’t want to cause him more pain as it was. But she couldn’t; she wanted to cry, scream, hit something, and all of that was written on her face much like her fathers.

Isabelle held in a sob and managed to force a smile. No matter how much she hated it, Isabelle knew what she had to do, not because a dragon had commanded it, but that a dragon had threatened the life they had, she believed she had to do this for her father if nothing else, “I’ll go, Papa.”

The usually happy-go-lucky man looked as if he had watched nations fall under his care. With that simple statement from his daughter, his whole world fell to ruins, but as a father, there are something’s he could never hold keep his child from, though he may try, “Are you sure, Isabelle? We can find another way. We can…”

Isabelle knew her father was starting to grasp at phantom strings, “Papa, you said it yourself. Master Ragis was very clear, even after all these years. You’ve carried this burden all on your own, and now I suppose it’s my turn to share in that weight.”

Now it was Desmond’s turn to suppress his sobs, but a smile did manage to spread across his lips, “What did I do to sire such a wonderful daughter? The gods have truly blessed me.”

“And they me. I couldn’t have asked for a better father. I’m sure mother would have been proud of you.”

Isabelle grabbed hold of her father and cried uncontrollably into his shoulder. Desmond, despite his feelings, forced himself to retain the remainder of his composure and held his daughter in his arms. And for a while, they stayed like that, that is until the weariness of the day and the burden of the following day had taken it’s toll on Isabelle, dropping them to their knees.

As a child, Isabelle can remember falling asleep next to her father while he told her the stories hidden in the stars. Her father had been such a source of strength and comfort for her, even when being told that in the morning, she would have to leave him for gods knew how long, she still felt safe with him and was able to fall asleep in his arms. Desmond held his daughter for a while longer after she had drifted into a deep sleep.

Sometime later, Desmond took her to her bed and tucked her in like he did for her when she was much younger. He pulled a chair into Isabelle’s room and sat next to her looking over her as midnight came and went. Desmond whispered to her as to not to wake her, “Happy birthday, my sweet fire.”

————

In the morning, Desmond still sat next to his daughter’s bed, still awake. When the morning sun shine came through the window and landed on his face, he realized that no matter how long he stayed awake and resisted, time never stopped or slowed and tomorrow has arrived.

Desmond stood and walked back into the main room of his small home. He opened a small trunk by the front door where they keep their shoes. He pulled the sword and gifts from Trevor and Vivian from the trunk, and placed them on the table next to the fireplace. He knew that what was supposed to be his daughter’s day of becoming an independent woman had become the day in which she would be forced to give up on her dreams and go to an unknown land to anyone in Fiona.

He unsheathed the sword and spun it in his hands, felling the weight of the metal. He took the handle in both hands and swung the blade. The tip of the blade bit into the wooden rafters overhead and got stuck. Cursing, Desmond pried the sword from the wood and inspected the edge. As expected of hardened steel, the blade was undamaged; the same couldn’t be said for his house. He sheathed the sword and placed it back on the table. Instead, he put a hand on his late wife’s cloak. The deep purple cloth brought memories back to his tired mind. He could distinctly remember her wearing the cloak on numerous occasions, especially when she set out into the woods to hunt. Lily never took a sword or a bow with her, but she managed to bring back a either several rabbits or a deer everytime. They certainly ate much better when she did the hunting; Desmond was lucky if he managed to catch a squirrel, and when he did, Lily would still praise him for his efforts. He loved her for that, encouraging him to do his best even when he was terribly suited for it.

Desmond looked back on his wife, perfect in every way in his eyes. He wished she were with him to handle this situation, he was sure she could figure a way out of this mess he got their family into.

“Papa… Are you awake already?” Isabelle said as she stepped out of her room.

Isabelle rubbed the sleep from her eyes and adjusted the dress she never changed out of. Desmond turned and lied, “Yeah, just got up. Good morning, Belle.”

“Good morning…” She replied, drowsiness still in her voice.

Desmond wrapped his daughter in a hug and she reciprocated. After a gentle squeeze, he stepped back and gestured to the table, “Happy birthday, my little flame.”

Isabelle’s eyes widened at the gifts on the table. A smile crossed her face, the expression like sunlight to Desmond, but the sun set. As the previous night’s conversation came to the front of her mind, her smile disappeared behind a forced determination.

She stepped up to the table and looked back to her father, “Am I being sent to war?”

Desmond knew she was trying to hide behind some light humor, but neither one of them felt like laughing. Desmond still gave an honest answer, “Master Ragis wanted me to make you a sword. So, I forged this in secret. It’s one of a kind. Go on and draw it.”

Isabelle picked up the sword and drew it from it’s sheath. The blade shined even in the dim light. She had to hold the blade in both hands, but she still struggled to hold it up. She looked up at her father and smiled through her struggles, “It’s a bit heavy for me.”

“Well, I figured you’d be able to grow into it. Master Ragis said he wanted a student; I’m sure you’ll be able to wield it in no time.” Desmond said as she sheathed the long sword. He continued, “Besides, Trevor and Vivian wanted to thank you for all you’ve done. The belt and boots are from them, and this is from your mother.”

Desmond held up the cloak as it unfolded. Isabelle stared in shock, “That’s from… mother?”

He nodded as she swept it around his daughter’s head, “Yup. In fact, it was the cloak she wore all the time, and now it’s yours.” He buckled the brass clasp at her collarbones.

Isabelle touched the cloth and smiled. She never had anything from her mother, and without knowing it, she always wanted something to connect her to her mother. “Thank you, Papa. I know this wasn’t easy?”

Desmond held back tears, “Don’t you worry about me. My job is to protect you, but now that your a woman, I can’t protect you forever. Here, go put everything on.” He grabbed the boots and handed them over to Isabelle.

She took the boots and walked back to her room. Behind closed doors, Isabelle changed out of her dress and into her normal work clothes. She slipped her new knee high boots and belt. The sword hung at her hip and dipped the belt to her left. She knew she would get used to the weight, but it still felt awkward at the moment.

She wrapped the cloak around herself again and smiled at the warmth. Even though she’s never felt it before, the cloak around her felt like her mother was holding her.

After admiring the craftsmanship of her father and their friends, she re-emerged from her room to show her father. The white cotton shirt and linen pants were hidden behind the cloak, the sword’s hilt stuck out from behind the cloth that reached to her calves.

“How do I look, Papa?” She said.

Desmond sucked in a breath, “By the gods, you look so much like your mother.” Isabelle couldn’t help but smile at the complement, but Desmond continued, “Except you’re like two feet shorter than her. I’ve never told you this, but she was a mountain of a woman.”

“What?” Isabelle said, holding in a laugh.

Her father smiled, “Yeah, she was taller than most men in the village, but don’t worry, she was the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met. That is, until you, of course.”

Isabelle did laugh this time, “Papa, you never talk about mother this much.”

Desmond put his hands to her face and smiled brightly, “I don’t know, Belle. I guess I didn’t want to make you feel alone with me without your mother. She could have done so much better raising you.”

“Papa, don’t say that. I’ve never felt alone and you did an amazing job raising me, I mean look at me.” She held her arms out, “I’m going to be the hand picked student of one of the five great dragons. I don’t think many other parents can say that.”

Desmond didn’t think his heart could break more than it already has, but he was proven wrong. He still forced a loving smile, “I guess not. My little fire, the dragon’s student.” He hugged her again.

“I think we’ve hugged more in the last twelve hours than we have in the last twelve years, papa.”

“I’m just building up stock for while you’re gone.” Desmond said.

A loud crack, like lightning striking, boomed through the forested valley that Fiona rested in. Desmond let go his daughter and opened the front door. He saw nothing but blue skies overhead and he couldn’t help but think the sound was a reminder to him. He whispered under his breath, “You waited seventeen years, you can wait a few more minutes.”

Desmond walked back into his home and faced his daughter one last time. “Was that what I think it was?” Asked Isabelle.

Her father nodded, “Master Ragis must be letting us know our time has run out. You remember where to go?”

“I do. The clearing in the woods surrounded by honeysuckles and wildflowers.” She said, trying to build courage for what’s to come.

“Then I am sad to say, this is where we part ways.”

A tear fell down Isabelle’s face, “I love you, Papa. Never forget that.” She rushed her father and squeezed him in one last hug.

Desmond hugged her back with tears in his own eyes, “I love you too.”

Soon after a few more ‘one last hugs’, Desmond gave Isabelle a sack with some bread, dried meat and cheese, and they really did say their final goodbyes.

————

Isabelle was now all alone, her cloak flowing gently behind her as she walked. The cool autumn air was enough for her to pull her hood up and hold the cloak closed. The forest grew dense the further she walked, and unlike when she was a child, afraid and alone, she now had her mother holding her with her cloak and her father to protect her with his sword. So, she strode with her chest out, her head held high, at least when the wind didn’t blow her hair into her face.

Eventually, after tripping over the same root that had claimed her as a child, she finally found the wall of honeysuckles and wildflowers. A flash of memory crossed her mind, the same wall of shrubbery looking like castle walls to a small child. Now it was only twice her height and looked as it was, a bush.

However, though the seasons were changing, the trees of the forest turning brown and red, and any fruit or vegetables having already been picked or died, the wall of vegetation was vibrant and flourishing despite the cold. Isabelle picked a honeysuckle the bush and pulled the green tip from the yellow petals. A drop of liquid formed on the small stem and Isabelle put it to her tongue. It was sweet, and unfamiliar to this time of the year.

She hesitated before finding a suitable gap between internal branches to push her way through into the same clearing she fell into before. Nothing had changed, from the tall grass to the night sky overhead. That, for lack of a better word, perplexed her. It was still morning, and the sun should almost be visible from where she was, but when she looked up, Isabelle could only see the bright full moon and the stars.

Isabelle quickly pushed her way back through the hedge and looked up into the sky. What sky she could see was blue and even the sun could be seen through the trees in the distance. Her jaw was unhinged looking up. Pushing back into the clearing, she kept her eyes overhead and tried to see when the sky turned from blue to black, but her vision was obscured.

She never would have guessed such a place was possible, how could it be night in the clearing and day outside it? Was it magic?

“Young one, what are you doing?” Said a deep voice.

Isabelle spun and looked the source of the voice in the eye. She pulled of her hood and examined the tall man with tan skin. His hair was like shining steel and his eyes were a golden glow. She barely remembered him, but from what her father had told her, she knew it was the dragon, Ragis.

“Master Ragis.” Isabelle said in a bow.

“Oh please, my child, do not bow to me. And do not call me ‘master’; my name will do just fine.” Ragis said.

Isabelle stood straight, but didn’t look him in the eye. She may be angry with the dragon for putting her through all this, but respect must be shown. She asked the question that’s been on her mind, “What will you have me do, once we go to the western continent?”

Ragis smiled, revealing long pointed teeth, “Right to the heart of the matter. I dare say I’ve chosen well. Very well, I will make you my student and I will train you in the ways of war, combat, diplomacy and magic. You and three others will become the mediators of the world, above all laws and beyond all allegence to any one people. You will become a hero to all people and a villain to any who oppose you.” He paused, seemingly for dramatic effect, “You will become one of four beings on this planet who’s life is worth more than another’s, and with that, you will have a burden greater than any other. Such is your fate, and I will humbly lead you to your… metaphorical throne.”

Isabelle felt as if she was punched in the gut, and reasonably so. That was a lot to unload on a person. If she was hearing him right, this dragon wanted to make her into some sort of… well, she wasn’t sure. What was above everything in a world? A god? Was this dragon planning to make her a god?

Ragis laughed, “I see I have overwhelmed you. Fear not, my child, we will train you one step at a time and you will become greater than all in time. You will not be expected to take on the world as you are, especially if you are unable to protect yourself.”

Flustered was one word to describe her feelings, “Who said I couldn’t protect myself?” She said as she pulled her sword from her belt. The weight was too much for her and she shook with exertion.

Like a candle being blown out, one moment the dragon in human form was ten feet in front of her, the next he was gone. Isabelle could feel something cold and sharp against her throat. Ragis was now behind her, his hand reached over her shoulder and his long fingernail pressed gently against the skin of her neck. “Until you are able to witness my strength, you will be considered unable to protect yourself, am I clear, apprentice?”

She had to force herself from swallowing in fear of cutting herself against his finger nail. She didn’t dare to move as she spoke, “Yes sir, I understand.”

“Good.” Ragis once again appeared in front of her with his hand held out to her. “Shall we go then?”

Fear replacing anger, Isabelle obeyed her new teacher and took his hand after resheathing her blade. She didn’t want to go, but she knew she didn’t have a choice in the matter and now more than before, she realized her father had no choice either. “I’m ready, Ragis.” She said.

“No, you are not.”

The world dropped out from underneath her feet and she watched her village and the surrounding forest spiral out below her. It took her a moment to recognize her home, and before she could admire the view from her extreme vantage point, the forest and village resting in the valley of two snow covered mountains were replaced by a stone floor.

Her head felt like it was being swept away by a river and her vision took a moment to focus on the new setting. She was in a room made of grey stone blocks, a circle of symbols and strange writing surrounded her and Ragis. Letting go of Isabelle, Ragis stepped over the circle and headed for a large wooden door, “Come, young one. There is much to do before dawn.” Ragis opened the door and disappeared behind it.

Careful not to touch the circle of symbols, Isabelle chased after the dragon and once through the open door, she immeaditly was stopped by a pale figure. Slamming into it, she fell on her butt, but the figure didn’t move. She looked up and the figure wasn’t just pale, it was see through. A transparent being in the shape of person floated above the ground, and Isabelle couldn’t discern a face or any kind of physical features that a normal person had. Then again, what normal person could be seen through?

“Young one. We do not have the time to be falling over, that part comes later. If you have questions, please, at least keep up.” Ragis barked further down the hallway.

“I’m sorry, sir.” Isabelle said as she scrambled to her feet and walked around the floating… thing. She didn’t have a word for it, and when she caught up with Ragis, she asked, “What was that thing?”

Ragis smirked, “Have you not ever seen a phantom before?”

“No, of course not. I don’t even know what a ‘phantom’ is.” She shot back, venom on her tongue.

“A phantom is a living being who has passed away and their spirit having not moved on from our plane of existence. Most wander, others retain abilities from their life. It is rare enough, but there are a few who have taken a liking to haunting these halls.” Ragis explained, “They may look like mist, but as you may have guessed, they are as sturdy as rock. Try not to run into more; respect for the dead is crucial.”

“Okay, you say ‘these halls’, where are we? We were just in the forest outside of Fiona.” Isabelle prodded.

“We were, yes. Now we are in the western continent. More specifically, we are in the mythical empire, Tazen.” Ragis said matter-of-factly.

“How can we be on the western continent? We were just in Fiona.”

Ragis never stopped his march, “Magic, young one. We used a teleportation circle established forty years ago from that room, to the forest your village resides in. Upon occasion, we use similar circles to travel vast distances between two fixed points, and once established, they can not be moved.”

“Does that mean I can go home at anytime?” She asked, trying to keep hope from building in her heart.

“No, it does not. Those circles are unable to be used by someone who doesn’t have enough magical reserves to survive the activation. If someone like you were to try and use the circles without someone able to aid you, you will die quite painfully.”

Isabelle involuntary swallowed. The thought of dying from a circle on the ground frightened her. She asked, “I suppose I can assume you won’t aid me, nor anyone else?”

Ragis scoffed, almost joyfully, “Wise, girl. You will find that all in these walls will be loyal to me and my siblings. If you were to disobey me in a severe manner, I will know before you could take action.”

“I understand.” Isabelle complied, though she thought she could see quite a few holes in his words, but dare she test her limits of her confinement?

The simple grey stone hallway seemingly went on forever, paintings of landscapes, war torn battle fields and strange looking men and women decorated the walls. They hadn’t spoken for a few minutes and the silence was starting to grind on Isabelle’s nerves, so, she broke it with another question, “Where are we going now?”

Ragis sighed, thinking he had finally gotten silence, “I’m taking you to the nursery?”

“The nursery? Am I going to be trained to be a babysitter?” She asked, not all that opposed to the idea. She loved children, especially infants.

“I suppose you wouldn’t know.” Ragis paused to gather his thoughts, “You understand that in this world, there are more than just humans?”

“Yes sir, I’m aware of the mythical races that live in the western continent. Elves, Orcs, Sprites and so on.” She waved her hand as to say the rest were obvious.

“Are you aware that each of the mythical’s children are born stillborn?”

Isabelle’s heart hurt at the thought. She couldn’t imagine what it would be like to lose a child so close to life, “That’s awful.”

Ragis raised his hand, “Do not fret. This is the way our kind reproduce. Upon delivery, the child is brought back to life through magic, and in doing so imbues that child with the strength to live on. The reason the mythicals are called as such is due to our inability to live without magic.”

“That’s… strange.” Isabelle said, trying to place that knowledge into her reality.

Ragis nodded, “I suppose it is from your point of view. However this method is not exclusive to the mythical races, just more successful. Humans who can use magic were not born with that power; they too had to allow their souls to travel to the other side of death in order to gain power in our reality.”

The pair finally stopped in front of a large wooden door, a simple depiction of a baby carved into the wood. Ragis opened the door and the sound of infants crying filled Isabelle’s years. Her heart ached for the poor children that felt like their needs were not being met, and she followed Ragis inside.

As soon as Ragis crossed the threshold, every crying child ceased and calmed. Isabelle could see a young woman in the small room looking over infants in cradles. She looked up at Isabelle and she was stunned. The young woman in a grey dress had large green eyes the size of apples and a small mouth. Her round head came to a point at her chin, all framed in golden hair. The most peculiar part of the woman to Isabelle aside from the giant eyes, was that the woman didn’t have a nose.

“Isabelle.” Ragis said as he stopped in front of a tub of glowing water in the middle of the room. “Take off your cloak, sword and boots and place them in that empty cradle.”

Watching the woman who had taken interest with a child that needed changing, Isabelle did as she was asked, “So, what now?”

Before she heard a response from Ragis, an uncomfortable feeling grew in her chest. Her heart felt as if it was being squeezed. She turned her head back to Ragis, but he was gone except for his hand. His hand was right in her face, holding something; something red, covered in a strange liquid and pulsing. slowly losing strength, she lowered her head and saw that the dragon’s human hand was protruding from her chest. Ragis was behind her, his arm stuck through her back and out of her chest, gripping her still beating heart, “Now, you die.”