Page 87 of Crown of Betrayal and Blood

Over time, my trust slowly grows when nothing is expected nor demanded of us and our freedom remains uninhibited.

The friendship between phoenixes and winged humans blooms, and a bond forms.

In time, word of the sanctuary spreads its wings, reaching phoenixes far and wide. Each avian family that seeks refuge under the gilded eaves of the palace is welcomed with warmth and respect.

The vision shifts, ejecting me from the phoenix’s head and zipping years into the future. I plunge back into the past, only as a spectator rather than a participant, and witness history unfold.

I recognize the land, the buildings. It’s Yorla, the Lost City, full of people and life. The woman is clearly the princess, and her crowned father works with her to construct the necessary changes to the capital and palace.

The humans of the kingdom help weave nests, fortify perches, and learn the art of care without capture. The sight becomes common. Majestic birds nestled alongside those who walk the earth, a testament to the bond forged by the princess and the phoenix mother.

Years flit by as the human princess matures and her children sprout up around her like tender saplings. The palace thrums with life, both human and mythical. Phoenix song intertwines with the laughter of humans, a harmony that speaks of an era of peace.

This harmony draws in the dragons too. The princess, her soul a deep well of empathy from the bond, extends her emotions toward these winged titans.

A bridge of feeling spans between them, and the dragons, enamored with this silent communion, decide to linger. The connection between creatures of flight and walkers of the land strengthens.

Yet, amid this idyllic coexistence, sorrow finds its way to the heart of the kingdom.

The princess ages and becomes queen. During her reign, she welcomes all phoenixes and dragons who wish to form a bond with them. Humans fly with and upon the dragons. Phoenixes fly with and upon the humans. The three races live together in amity, each bringing their own strengths to the alliance.

When at last the queen breathes her final sigh, it is quick.

The wave of grief that cascades through the palace drenches every stone and ruffles every feather. Dragons and phoenixes, united in their mourning, fill the air with cries that resonate across the lands of Tirene.

The queen’s children prepare a farewell fit for one who bridged worlds. They lay her body out in the courtyard, where dragons and phoenixes alike can pay homage.

As the day wanes, the last rays of sunlight kiss the queen’s serene visage, igniting a blaze that engulfs her form. Flames erupt, fierce and wild, consuming this vessel of unyielding love and compassion. The fire burns with a radiance that mirrors the birth of stars, and the people of Tirene bear witness to an ending that is also a beginning.

The courtyard of the palace in Yorla thrums with magic. As the phoenix mother tilts her head toward the sky, recognition sparks within her ancient eyes.

She knows. All the phoenixes know without a doubt that the magical flames consuming the queen are not an end but a glorious rebirth.

Her heart soars as she communicates her revelation to the gathered dragons. Joyous roars reverberate through the air, harmonizing with the crackle and pop of the fire.

Amid this jubilant cacophony, the human onlookers, initially paralyzed by shock, gather at the courtyard’s edge, expressions morphing from fear to awe as they witness the spectacle before them.

From the fiery pyre, the queen re-emerges.

She steps out with the grace of one untouched by flame. Her body now glows with the freshness of youth. She appears only a few years older than when she first met the phoenixes.

Whispers ripple through the crowd.

The royal family of Tirene has been touched by the mythical, their lineage forever altered.

The dragoncallers rise, a name given new weight as the children and their descendants will carry the ability to touch minds with dragons and phoenixes and ease suffering with their empathic gifts.

Dragoncallers, born from kindness and nurtured by bonds stronger than any magic, stand as a testament to the enduring spirit of the Tirenese people.

But nothing good can last forever.

The sun casts long shadows over the palace in Yorla, and the courtyard rings with the clanking of armor and the roar of dragons.

And the heart-wrenching wails of the wounded returning from battle.

The horizon seethes with dark sails as ships of war approach. These invaders, driven by greed, are the descendants of the very people who decimated the phoenix population in distant lands. They come now to Tirene, lusting for the magic they believe can be wrung from phoenix tears.

Dragons take to the sky, their fire a protective wall to guard their smaller friends.

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