Rhaenera

Heat. Isleen had only even known it as one thing during her life. In Serora the heat from Ignacio’s Sun was as eternal and unwavering as Alya’s Winds or Sands. Finding relief was a simple ordeal, seeking shelter inside or under shade, and in the most desperate of cases, the Sand was a temporary sanctuary from scorching rays. That was the way of the world. Her World. Until she became a Peacemaker, that is. Somehow, Heat was a very different thing here on the Sea and In Aquore. It was Wet and Sticky and Stuffy. Every day by Noon Isleen was drenched and dripping from head to hoof as if she had been swimming, and her mane was more tangled and frizzy than it ever had been on her windboard. Some days there was barely any wind to feel, leaving the Air so thick and suffocating she had to remind herself it was still air she was breathing, even if it felt like trying to breathe underwater. Shelter didn’t work the same way with this kind of Heat either. Shade didn’t offer any relief. The same

Isleen had often thought about the series of events that got her here on the Waters of Aquore, seeing and changing the world with the Rogues. Perhaps what she had always believed as her encounter with Alya contributed to her years of studying and dedication to this future, but without the opportunity to step up, Isleen might have been forced to give up the dream. Had the Flight and Rogue’s new Alliance not come to Serora for trade, had their Sultan not called on her to aid in the negotiations, Isleen wouldn’t be here learning about thinning ties of Talori with the rest of Hireath. Whether for their own doing or someone else's. She often wondered what might have happened if they hadn’t struck a deal with the Rogues and Flight that day. After the detrimental war with Aodh, Serora could have easily been shy to start another, taking an offer from a people Talori considered Criminals and Terrorists. If they hadn’t, Isleen certainly wouldn’t be where she is now, there wouldn’t have been a