Page 10 of Unravelled
Tharion froze, the spoon in mid-air. His eyes snapped to hers. “The village?” He lowered the spoon and set it down with deliberate care.
“Yes.” Mira didn't acknowledge the tone in his voice.
His voice darkened. “Mira, that place was under siege less than a day ago. Half of it’s rubble. Why would you,”
“Because I want to help,” she interrupted, her voice certain. “They need healers. Supplies. I may not be a cleric, but I have been with Perrin for almost a year. I can dress wounds, stop bleeding. Comfort people.”
He stood abruptly, the chair scraping back. “That village is not a place for you to go right now.”
She stood too, eyes meeting him. “You don’t get to decide that.”
His jaw flexed. “I’m not deciding. I’m protecting.”
“I'm going to that village. I have to do something ...” she declared. His eyes searched hers. “If there’s a way to make even a piece of this a little better for them then I have to try.”
He exhaled. The fight drained slightly from his frame. “Fine, but you stay with me. No wandering off. No foolish risks. You do not leave my sight. Understood?”
“Fine.” The word came clipped firm with purpose, not defiance.
“Good.” Tharion was quieter. More worn. He sat again, the bowl in front of him remembered as he begun to eat.
Mira didn’t push further. She just watched him, watched the way his shoulders stayed tense, the way his jaw clenched even in silence.
“Does Perrin know?” he asked, not quite meeting her eyes. She shook her head.
“I’ll ask her tomorrow.” Tharion let out a dry huff, half doubt, half resignation. He leaned back with a sharp breath, jaw still tight.
Mira saw it now clearly. He wasn’t angry she was going. He was terrified she wouldn’t come back. Tharion was still trying to protect her, always had, but this wasn’t about her safety anymore.
?? ?
Beneath the soft hush of morning the altar hall was quiet save for the hum of cicadas outside the tall, arched windows.
Warm sunlight spilled across the polished stone floor in golden ribbons, flickering through leaves swaying in the breeze.
The scent of sun-warmed dried herbs clung to the air, grounded by the ever-present burn of the incense curling from the altar door.
Mira pushed open the carved door, boots tapping impatiently on stone. Cleric Perrin didn’t look up immediately. She was finishing the last loop of a careful sigil in pale chalk along the edge of the dais. Her veil fluttered slightly in the cross-breeze, catching the light like woven moonlight.
“You walk like the day’s already behind you,” Perrin said mildly, still crouched. “And the sun’s barely cleared the sky.”
“I’ve been arguing with myself for the past two hours about how to ask you so you will say yes...” Mira said, striding forward, barely bothering to lower her voice.
Perrin rose slowly, dusting her fingers off with a linen cloth. “I assume this is your way of saying you’ve come with a request for time away.”
Mira nodded once. Firm. “I want to go with Torvyn to Anyerit. He’s leaving tomorrow.” Perrin studied her, saying nothing at first.
Mira continued, “The village was hit hard. There’s nothing left standing. They need aid. I’m not trained like you, but I can help. Even basic healing makes a difference.”
The cleric moved to light a summer candle, tallow and lavender, low and slow-burning. She cupped her hand around the match and waited for Mira to keep speaking.
When she didn’t, Perrin turned. “Tell me what you’re really hoping to find there”
Mira's voice was quiet. “The people there have nothing. And I... I have the luxury of choice. I want to use it to help them.”
Perrin regarded her with a gaze that saw more than it revealed. Her expression softened. She walked to the basin beside the altar and dipped her fingers into the water. “You know what you’ll witness there won’t be easy,” she said, turning back to face Mira.
Mira nodded, “I do.”
“And that there may be more to Torvyn’s purpose than simply relief work?” Perrin spoke with no judgement .
Mira’s jaw tensed, but she didn’t flinch. “Yes.”
There was no rebuke in Perrin’s silence, only thoughtfulness. She stepped forward and gently placed a hand over Mira’s. “Then go. See it with your own eyes. But don’t just look at what’s broken.” Her voice was softer now, almost reverent. “Look for what still stands.”
Mira took a breath, nodding. “Thank you.”
Perrin offered the smallest of smiles, though her eyes held firm.
“Don’t thank me until you come back." She looked at Mira through her veil for a moment, eyes narrowing before moving on.
"You'll be in the sanctum today. The central stacks need reordering, and the tomb ledgers are waiting to be archived properly.” she paused, “Take it as a quiet place to think, before the noise of the road.”
Mira hesitated. Perrin had never allowed her in the sanctum before.
It was usually reserved for her acolytes.
Miranodded and turned away toward the rear alcove.
Here the dust smelled of old vellum and the tomb ledgers sat in solemn, uneven stacks.
The space was quiet, removed, lined with arched shelving and narrow nooks carved into the stone.
A single narrow window spilled sunlight across the floor like a golden blade, catching on the edges of faded ink and brittle parchment.
And Mira let herself exhale. It wasn’t punishment she assured herself. It was a pause. A breath. A place to be still before she faced fire. She rolled up her sleeves, laid her palms on the first stack of ledgers.