The Name-Bearer (Flowers of Prophecy #1)

by Natalia Hernandez

It was the day she would speak to the Flowers of Prophecy.

Once she had performed the Naming Ceremony and spoken to the Flowers, she would be allowed at court, a true Name-Bearer. Then perhaps she could make friends with real people and not simply inanimate objects.

The Flowers of Prophecy had named future rulers for as long as anyone could remember. There was no written record of where the Flowers came from, or when the rite began. It simply was so, and had been so, for all of Andala’s history. The Flowers bestow the names of future rulers to only one person, a nameless one, existing solely to deliver names and never own one themselves. The Name-Bearer.

“A future king was born this morn, but not unto the queen.”

“If found and brought to us to discover his true name, it will ring in a peace to this realm that will last for centuries.”

“Why me?” “I wasn’t sure, until this day. Now I am certain. It is you who must find the unnamed prince.”

“If the Flowers granted a vision of you, and spoke to you of this child now, then you are meant to find him. You cannot fight against fate, girl, and the Flowers are the foretellers of prophecy.”

“I will send you to the Danrayens,” he decided, in a tone that bore no argument. But argue she did. “The Danrayens?” she all but shrieked. His response was a curt nod, the matter, in his mind, already decided. “You think to send me to the deadliest warrior women in the realm? To the most elite sect, training soldiers from children to be the walking weapons of the Goddess Danray?” “I know the high priestess. She will train you.” “I’m 13! I’m too old to be trained! And more importantly, I’m not a warrior!” “You must become one. Your path will be long and arduous, and the child will need your protection.”

The girl knew that the Temple of Danray sat to the northeast of the palace, but still in Southern Andala. While full Danrayen warriors traveled throughout the realm, and beyond, initiates of the sisterhood were trained within the temple grounds by the Danrayen Priestesses.

“You are no longer the Name-Bearer, child, but deemed a traitor to the realm. You must become someone new. Like a young caterpillar who changes every aspect of themselves to become a butterfly, so must you transform.”

Other children find the priestesses or temples later in life, for they were born appearing male, but over the years come to embrace their inner goddess and transform to become their true selves. Many of these girls choose the Danrayen path, for the goddess Danray is the goddess of both battle and transition.

A foreign feeling unfurled just behind her sternum, and a tiny smile tugged at the corner of her lips, the unused muscles quivering slightly after being inactive for so long. The feeling blossomed as she remembered answering the Priestess Adira the night before. Phanessa, she thought with a wild, reckless thrill. Perhaps she could become Phanessa. A Danrayen initiate, a trainee, destined to become a warrior.

She knew about the ways to womanhood, of course, her palace training had taught her the basics. But she never thought she would be talking so openly about it with other girls her age. Was this what friendship would be like? Friendship. It was a foreign concept to her that made her heart squeeze and head hurt, just a little.

“With birth there is always pain,” she explained kindly. “And you are being born anew. It will take some time to find your feet again.”

“You two are a lot alike,” Petra said finally, and the rest of the girls abandoned their questions in favor of a table game. The idea that she could share similarities with Damika brought her a small rush of delight, but mostly Phanessa felt relieved. And grateful to her friend. Because of Damika she didn’t have to invent some sort of half-hearted lie. They didn’t try to pry again, and she could breathe easier knowing that, at least for now, her secret was still safe.

She learned how to be strong and steadfast, loyal and decisive, but also that earning those qualities did not make her any less of a woman. She witnessed firsthand how femininity was not exclusive to soft spoken words and fancy dress, and that embracing more traditional “feminine things'' in no way made anyone weaker. She hiked and explored the neighboring hillsides, learned to climb trees, pick mangoes and limones, and forage for edible fungi and greens.

But the promise of friendship, companionship, warmth and acceptance from people her own age was too strong of a temptation, and she could not pull away from any of them if she tried.

“You aren’t weak for reporting her or asking for help” Taruka told her softly. “That’s what you’re worried about, isn’t it?” Phanessa couldn’t answer. “You’re so stupid.” Damika repeated to her, without the anger in her voice this time. She pulled Phanessa in for a fierce hug, carefully avoiding her injuries. “Silly, silly girl. You have more strength than the lot of us, you work twice as hard, you complain half as much, and you never give up. There isn’t any part of you that doesn’t have a warrior’s heart.”

As she faded from view, Phanessa couldn’t escape the sticky fear that this would not be the last time she saw her, or her magia.

It was only later, lying in her bed freshly bathed and changed, that Nessa allowed herself to wonder what it was, exactly, the storm had interrupted, and whether she was relieved or disappointed that it had.

“Together. The five of us will travel throughout the kingdom and do great deeds, saving those weaker, the poor, the innocent. Bards will sing songs of we warriors, the Daughters of Danray!”

Mamá had warmth and wisdom, comfort and kindness to give them all. For the Goddess knew that young women need more than just training; they also need love.

“But which one will you choose?” she asked Raidea. The older girl laughed and tossed her head, her shining curls bouncing with the movement. “Oh mija … who said I had to choose?” and sauntered off in the direction of the men.

“When will you return?” Even in the dark, she could see a light dim in Damika’s eyes. “Years. It … it will likely take years.”

“You think that your love for your friends, your caring, makes you weaker than the others.” Phanessa tried ducking her head, but Mamá’s fingers tilted her chin up to meet her eyes. “You’re wrong. It is your love that will save them.”

“He sent me to help.” “To help?” “To help you find the unnamed prince.”

Nova didn’t know what to believe. She had grown up hearing the same stories of the Night Wood for decades. To have the rules change now, after centuries of irrefutable stability, was a shift too incredible to fathom. Especially so soon after another once-in-a-lifetime event that she was a witness to herself; the Flowers of Prophecy refusing a Naming. Things were changing, shifting, and that scared her. What did it mean, and what part did she have to play in it?

“Now she walks a different path, and there is no shame in it.” Leader continued.

“The Goddess Danray will see us all together again. You’ll see amor, you’ll see.” As they drifted to sleep in the comfort of one another, Damika sat outside alone, between her fingers the small amber butterfly pendant, twirling around and around in the firelight.

She wouldn’t use his name. Not ever. There is a power in names, as well she had learned, and she refused to give any to the likes of him.