Soraya walked through the palace gardens. They were exactly as she remembered them. Blossoms of every shape and color hung like jewels from curling green vines, and the most strange and exotic fruit stood ripe for the picking. In the middle of the garden was the small pond. Striped fish the size of dogs moved languidly through the still water, just visible beyond the murky surface.

Soraya stepped upon the bridge that led to the small pagoda in the center of the pond. A dragonfly with emerald wings landed on her shoulder, blinked its large eyes, and flitted away. Soraya took slow, even steps. She knew that someone was waiting for her in the pagoda, someone who had invited her here.

Soraya entered the small, open structure. Looking out from there, one could see the entirety of the gardens. Hidden by the tall banana trees and even taller palms, the palace walls were almost completely obscured. One could almost imagine that this wasn’t really the palace garden, but some fantastical other place, beyond the reach of any mere mortals.

But the pagoda was empty. Soraya frowned and sat down upon one of the cushions set out for observers. Where was the one who was supposed to meet her?

Another dragonfly landed upon Soraya’s knee, with the same beautiful green wings. Or perhaps it was the same insect as before.

“Welcome, princess of the Great Fire,” The dragonfly spoke. “What brings you to this place?”

Soraya blinked at the insect. In another time and place, a talking dragonfly would have shocked her, but she knew better. This was a dream. Anything was possible here.

“You called me here,” Soraya replied, recalling that gnawing feeling of having been invited to this place.

The dragonfly buzzed with what sounded like laughter. “So I did. But not all heed the call.”

Soraya shifted so that she sat with her back straight, careful to avoid crushing her companion. She smoothed out the folds of her dress and did her best to meet the bug’s gaze, although it was difficult what with him having such tiny eyes.

“And why did you call me here?” Soraya asked.

“I have a gift for you,” The dragonfly replied.

Soraya frowned. “A gift?”

“Yes. And a blessing to those whose eyes can see the unseen, whose hands can touch what is not there.”

The dragonfly alighted from Soraya’s knee. It hovered just before her face, its wings beating so fast as to be invisible.

“You will find my gift in the flame of flames, the all seeing eye of Mithra. Take it. It is yours.”

Before Soraya could ask any further questions the insect burst into a ball of flames and was gone, its ashes falling slowly to the ground.

XXX

“A dragonfly,” Shapur mused, leaning forward. “And you remember this all clearly?”

“As if I had been there in the flesh,” Soraya replied.

Shapur sat on one of the carved chestnut chairs in the small council room, looking thoughtful. The brightly decorated walls and ornaments were illuminated by the light streaming in from outside. It was hot inside, almost stifling.

Farnaz stood, pacing back in forth angrily. She was also deep in thought, though more disturbed by it than Shapur.

“A dragonfly,” Farnaz said as if talking to herself. “A khrafstar- they are destructive, meaningless creatures. An omen of death and evil.” She cut off her pacing and moved to stand before Soraya. “Your highness I beg of you- pay no heed to this foul vision. It is a deception of some spirit, an evil force trying to trick you.”

Shapur barked out a short laugh at the older woman’s hysterics. Farnaz’s eyes cut to him with outrage.

“But what is the trick?” Soraya persisted. The magis were supposed to give her advice, help her rule- but most important of all, they were supposed to give her answers. What good were these mystical avatars if they couldn’t even do that?

Soraya tempered her frustration, thought back to the dragonfly’s words. You will find my gift in the flame of flames, the all seeing eye of Mithra. “What is the Eye of Mithra?” Soraya asked. “A metaphor of some kind?”

“It is an epithet, your grace,” Farnaz said. “For the Great Fire of Atash. After all, does not Mithra see all our sins and deeds through his holy fire, to judge us all by our mortal lives?”

The Great Fire of Atash. The holiest land on this mortal earth, where burned the first flame Mithra bestowed to man all of those eons ago. It was located in the temple complex in which Soraya now resided, housed in its own sacred chamber. Before arriving at the temple, Soraya had visited the place only once, long ago, with her brother and sister. The Shah had thought a pilgrimage a worthy idea to appease the disgruntled priests, even if he did not lower their taxes to the crown.

There had been a grand ceremony to welcome the royal family with songs and feasting and dance. Then, they went to the Great Fire itself to offer prayers and sacrifice.

Soraya remembered how Roshani and Esfandar had been frightened by the flames. They were enough to scare anyone who had never beheld it before, especially a child. The fire soared above the priests, above the trees, so high that it rivalled the temple itself. A small building had been built around it, to keep it from the elements and to guard it. The roar of the fire was as loud as waves crashing upon the cliffs.

Soraya hadn’t been afraid of it as her siblings had been. Her awe and fascination were too great, and they overcome any fear she might have had.

The priests had sacrificed three pure white bulls for the auspicious day, and their bodies had been tossed into the fire to honor the gods. Soraya had asked her father why the gods demanded bulls and not parakeets or cats or fish. He had laughed at the naiveté of her question.

Soraya was brought out of her reveries when Farnaz and Shapur’s bickering ebbed and they turned their attention back to her.

“Highness, it is only a dream,” Shapur said easily. He shifted back in his chair, taking an almost lazy position. “It does not mean anything. Only that you miss the palace of your birth and desire some solution to bring you victory over your enemies.”

Farnaz now turned to the young magi with nothing short of fury.

“How quick you are to dismiss dreams and their warnings.” Farnaz’s wrinkled brow creased into a fervent scowl. “Have not the visions of the gods shown you the power of such things?”

Shapur only yawned and sat up straighter.

“Correct- and I happen to be the only magi gifted with visions in the past few years.” He replied. Farnaz’s face turned red with anger and shame. “I dare say that that gives me the superiority in deciphering dreams and visions, don’t you?”

Farnaz looked about to strike him for his insolence before Soraya spoke.

“Enough.” Her word was sharp. Farnaz lowered her shaking hand slowly. The two magis continued to glare at each other. “Thank you both for your wise counsel,” Soraya told them. “I will think upon this dream further and see what meaning, if any, I can make of it.”

At their dismissal, the two magis bowed before their empress and scurried out of the room.

When they were gone, Soraya ventured out to the balcony. A cool breeze played out across the courtyard, bringing with it the distant taste of the sea’s salty air. Below her, various servants and worshippers moved about, attending to their various chores and duties.

You will find my gift in the flame of flames, the all-seeing Eye of Mithra. Take it. It is yours.

Soraya clenched her fists at her side. She did not think either Farnaz’s or Shapur’s assertions were correct. The dream had meant something, something important.

Soraya gritted her teeth. There were more important matters to tend to than a vague and unhelpful dream. She still feared that the daevas had been reborn in the deserts, as Dashna said, and the war with Roshani and Esfandar raged on, their forces drawing closer to battle with each passing day. But however she tried, Soraya couldn’t get that little dragonfly and its words out of her head.

The gift that the dragonfly had spoken of- somehow Soraya knew that she was meant to have it.