A Mythopoetic Exegesis of the Fatima–Prospero Story #12 From The Book.
FATIMA’S ALCHEMY
Betrayal Trauma, Spiritual Sovereignty, and the High Priestess Code
By Delahrose Roobie Myer
It's uncommon for an author to step out from behind her myth and speak directly to the story's core. However, Fatima’s world isn’t fictional. It’s a fable born from personal experiences, an archetype shaped by blood, bone, and biography. Some stories in Fatima’s Alchemy are meant to be understood as parables; others hide codes that only reveal themselves when looked at from within.
For those who purchased my book and entered Story 12 — Fatima and the Betrayal of Prospero, I felt compelled to share the deeper layer of that tale. This isn’t just commentary. It’s the myth beneath the myth.
A mythopoetic exegesis of the Fatima–Prospero story.
I will share more of these exegeses as I am inspired. Each story within Fatima’s Alchemy reveals a deeper structure, with some meant to be fully uncovered. Story 12 - Fatima and the betrayal of Prospero — is not a romance, tragedy, or a typical 'healing journey” in a sentimental spiritual sense. Instead, it serves as an anatomy of betrayal, illustrating white-collar predation. It also acts as a manual for understanding what it takes to become a High Priestess in a society that celebrates charlatans and condemns integrity. Her myth is crafted like all true myths: through the language of blood, property, contracts, and broken promises.
This is more than just a metaphor; it's a metaphor embedded within reality. Fatima represents' women everywhere.”
She is a woman with a name, a body, a bank account, a daughter, an illness, and a legal case. Only when her story is grounded in these tangible details does it become the true alchemical allegory. The myth of Fatima’s union with Prospero was not about a shared realm, but a theft masked as a partnership. She contributed the genius, plans, labour, and spirit.
He brought charm, access, lineage, and a welcoming smile that opened doors. Together, they created a legacy marked by both their names- awards, recognition, wealth. However, beneath the polished exterior, a different structure was in play: gaslighting as a tactic, withholding love for control, rewriting history as a game. “You are nothing without me”- not an insult, but programming. When repeated enough, it becomes the software that causes a woman to doubt her own senses. He slept with her, used her body, then whispered, “I do not love you.” This isn't confusion; it's cruelty- a deliberate act. By the time he flaunted a younger lover and planned his departure, the spell had already taken hold. The betrayal didn't start when he left; it began when he decided she was mere raw material, not a sovereign soul to be encountered.
White-collar crime's brilliance lies in weaponising the system; Prospero moved with precision.
•Pressuring the sale of her home at under value
•Forcing the loss of horses, art, jewellery
•Undervaluing assets deliberately
•Using silence, status, and “representatives” to keep his fingerprints clean
He bore the profit while she endured exhaustion and shame. The legal system is meant to balance justice in theory, but in practice, it often favours those who know how to manipulate it: Men with lineage, influence, and prestigious last names. At the courthouse steps, the judge refused to hear her case, replacing justice with negotiation and threats with rights. Her own legal team used Prospero’s deceptive bankruptcy as leverage, warning, “Settle, or you risk prosecution.” This statement encapsulates the system's critique: a woman who fought to preserve the empire's remnants now faces threats from its ruins. She was not only hurt but also cornered and rendered disposable. This is institutional betrayal trauma- a profound betrayal where someone trusted or depended on becomes the source of your destruction. It's not mere hurt; it's psychic demolition.
It breaks:
•Your sense of reality
•Your ability to trust your own perception
•Your internal compass around safety, danger, and worth
While the spiritual-lite crowd tells her to “let it go” and “move on,” they reveal what they are:
People who haven't experienced what she did inside the furnace often dismiss her experience as mere “normal trauma" or, worse, attribute it to "mindset issues." They fail to understand the depth of her burden because recognising it would challenge their simplified views on manifestation, karma, and the idea that "you chose this.”
Betrayal trauma isn't resolved with affirmations or bypassed through forced forgiveness. It requires being witnessed, acknowledged, and processed. Since Fatima didn't receive that from the world, the gods provided her with an alternative.
In Native American traditions, Counting Coup represented acts of courage, close encounters with death, and honour in battle.
Each act was an unseen mark on the warrior’s spirit. In Fatima’s story, this idea is turned upside down and applied to Prospero- his coups are not acts of bravery but of cowardice.
•Publicly gifting jewellery that once belonged to Fatima to his new lover
•Flaunting stolen wealth
•Leveraging the court and legal machinery to erase her contributions
Each move is a dark coup, each deception leaving a mark on his soul. Outwardly, he seems victorious—wealthy, celebrated, admired, untroubled. Yet, beneath the surface, a different accounting unfolds. These scars are quiet, not screams. During moments of silence or when applause ceases, his soul assesses its ledger. Prospero’s “wins” accumulate interest in a currency his ego cannot repay: integrity, meaning, and peace. Fatima’s losses are visible; his are hidden. But concealment does not mean absence. The gods keep different records. Once her property and status were stripped away, something revealing occurred: the world ceased to see her. Those who once praised her efforts now only judged her by her bank balance. No house, no social circle, no prestige—these count as irrelevant to others. They called her “washed up” or “unstable.” Their cruelty wasn’t always loud; it often manifested in innuendo, tone, and subtle exclusions. They reminded her of her “place” after losing her assets, treating her struggle as an embarrassment, an inconvenience, a stain. The collective punishes the fallen not with empathy but with erasure. Even healers and self-proclaimed sages failed her, offering slogans instead of substance—grand words without embodied wisdom. The spiritual marketplace tends to sell “compassion” while turning away from genuine human pain.
Fatima saw them clearly:
Charlatans disguised as light. She felt exhausted but remained aware. At her lowest, Fatima wondered if life was worth it—not with melodrama, but with pragmatic bitterness: “How many more plates of ignorance must I swallow? How many more punishments for what was done to me?” She had lost her property, status, security, and faith in human decency. Her body fought cancer, and her nervous system carried years of court-induced fear. Yet, something in her refused to become like them. The key shift is that true power isn’t about positivity; it’s about refusal—refusing to adopt the values of those who hurt you and refusing to let cruelty turn you cruel.
Refusal to let rot recruit you.
The gods responded by igniting her original gifts:
•Seer-vision
•Alchemical resilience
•The ability to stand alone and still hold love in the heart
She was always a mirror for others, but now she must turn that reflection inward. Her entire life has been a journey of initiation. The High Priestess is not merely a title you are given; she is someone you are crafted into. Becoming a High Priestess isn't just about reading cards—it's about surviving hell and holding onto your soul. Fatima’s story goes beyond simple light versus dark; it explores both. She embraced rage, faced grief, and never pretended to be above these feelings.
She walked through:
•the darkness of betrayal
•the emptiness of abandonment
•the humiliation of social death
•the terror of illness
•the grief of losing her creations
Fatima chooses not to become bitter, illustrating the resilience of the spirit rather than sainthood. One cannot truly understand light without experiencing darkness, nor wield power safely without confronting one’s potential under pressure. Her strength lies not in “forgiving and forgetting," but in remembering everything without allowing it to harden her heart. She’s neither naive nor permanently gentle; instead, she’s strategic, experienced, and unafraid to expose corruption. This makes her a threat to false healers and unstable governments. The world’s efforts to diminish her were relentless. Ultimately, Fatima rises beyond victimhood or mere survival, becoming a High Priestess.
What does that actually mean?
•She has faced systemic and intimate betrayal without becoming a perpetrator herself.
•She has witnessed the hypocrisy of “spiritual” and “successful” people and refused to live by their metrics.
•She understands that true strength sometimes exists in one person standing alone against a corrupted field.
•She knows it is better to burn than to join the rot.
Her gift extends beyond healing to include discernment. She perceives the true nature of people beneath their words and values integrity over mere performance. She refuses to lower her standards just to gain approval. She understands the profound, sacred truth that most people will never comprehend the depths she has experienced, and that’s not their purpose. She isn’t here to serve everyone, but for those who see their own betrayal trauma reflected in her story and opt to rise above it rather than succumb to it.
Moral of the Story
True strength is not escaping darkness, but walking through it without becoming its agent.
Fatima’s journey teaches:
•Duality is not optional.
•You will know love and cruelty, honour and betrayal, creation and destruction.
•The test is not whether you avoid darkness, but whether you can pass through it without trading your soul for safety.
Power is not the absence of suffering. Power is the refusal to abandon yourself inside it.
Metaphor of the Phoenix
Fatima’s life is alchemical. Prospero’s empire is pyrotechnic: bright, loud, destined to burn out.
She rises like a phoenix, but not in the Instagram sense. Her rebirth is scarred, slow, cellular.
Her ashes are:
•lost property
•stolen credit
•social exile
•medical scars
•financial precarity
From those ashes, emerges a rarity greater than success- a soul that truly knows itself. She proves that even after material possessions are lost, an inner strength remains unaffected by any man, judge, or system. This is the domain of the High Priestess. Fatima now inhabits this space; she is not owned, erased, or constrained by what was taken from her. Instead, she is characterised by her resilience and her unwavering refusal to die.
Delahrose Roobie Myer
Confidante • Catalyst • Clarifier
Depth • Design • Direction
Author, Fatima’s Alchemy: A Treasure to Behold
Hardcover available via major booksellers
Artwork by LeighAnn - LAD Art LLC
