Page 90 of Unravelled

Mira

One Year Before

The altar chamber was nearly empty. Only the distant flicker of candlelight remained, the flames swaying gently in the drafts that curled through the towering stone pillars. The scent of incense lingered, heavy with the weight of centuries of prayers whispered into the dark.

Mira stood alone before the center of the altar, her hands clasped before her, her pulse hammering against her ribs.

The champagne bodice of her gown clung to her torso, its navy constellations embroidered along the boning shimmering beneath the full moon.

The fabric cinched at her waist before cascading into a waterfall of starlight, pooling around her bare feet as she moved slowly forward.

Her auburn hair was unbound, wild and loose, with only a few strands woven with silver thread, catching the light like threads of spun moonlight.

Standing here, facing the towering stained-glass windows that depicted Bharas in all his celestial glory, a bead of sweat slid down the back of her neck.

She had never doubted. Not when it mattered.

Not even when she had stood before this very altar as a child, listening to her mother’s funeral rite. But now, there was only silence.

She swallowed hard and lowered to her knees, her fingers threading together so tightly they ached. The silver glow of the stained-glass window bathed her in its fractured light, casting her shadow long against the floor. She took a steadying breath. And spoke.

“Bharas, hear me.” The words echoed into the vast chamber, lost among the high ceilings and the flickering candlelight.

She exhaled slowly. Tried again. “If I have ever honored your name, then I ask you this now, not as a plea, but as a bargain.” Her voice trembled. She pressed her forehead to the marble, her fingers digging into the fabric of her gown as she forced herself to be still.

“Bond us in your name, and your heart flame” The words cracked as they left her lips. “Let it be true.”

She lifted her head, heart thundering, waiting, praying, for a sign. But there was nothing. No warmth curling through her veins. No whispered assurance in the back of her mind. No confirmation that the love she had chosen was a path written in the stars.

Mira’s breath hitched. Her fingers clenched against the cold stone, and for the first time in her life, she felt the weight of something she had never known before. Doubt.

She squeezed her eyes shut. “I do not ask this for power,” she whispered. “Not for your favor. Not for status. I only ask for him.” The candles burned. The incense curled. The silence remained.

“I know nothing is given freely.” The words rang out in the emptiness, firmer this time. “If there is a cost, I will bear it. Whatever the price, I will pay it.”

She lifted her chin, looking up at the towering image of Bharas above her, his outstretched hands frozen in the glow of the stained glass.

“Show me what you want from me,” she whispered.

Her throat tightened, her chest constricting. Slowly, she forced herself upright, blinking against the sting of unshed tears. Maybe it was foolish. Maybe Bharas did not deny her. Maybe he simply did not notice her.

???

The night cloaked them in moonlight, the full moon at above them, casting the world in silver hush and shadowed quiet.

There were no lanterns. No fires. Just the sky, brilliant and unflinching, and the tahla tree’s ancient limbs swaying overhead.

It's blossoms exhaling their perfume like a spell woven just for them.

The air was thick with something more than summer. It seemed to shimmer. The kind of air that remembered. The kind that held its breath for things sacred and old.

Mira stepped barefoot into the canopy, the cool grass whispering against her skin. And beneath the canopy of their tree, Ren waited. He looked like something summoned from a dream, midnight blue and golden, his tunic glinting with woven with stars. A perfect echo of her.

His eyes found hers the moment she stepped into the moonlight, and her breath caught. He looked devastatingly handsome, but it wasn’t his face or the cut of his jaw or the way the moonlight curved around him like it had chosen him. It was what she felt.

A wave of longing surged through her chest. Love.

Fierce. Devoted. Burning. Ren. Her Ren. Her soul stretched toward him like it had been waiting lifetimes to remember the way.

He extended his hand, palm open, steady and sure.

No command, no urgency, only invitation.

Mira took a breath as she placed her hand in his.

Their fingers laced together, and he gently guided her forward, helping her cross the circle drawn in salt and crushed tahla blossoms. The petals clung faintly to the hem of her gown, to her bare feet, like the earth itself marking the moment.

Ren’s thumb brushed lightly across her knuckles as she passed the threshold, his gaze never leaving her face.

“Mira,” he murmured, voice rough with awe.

He gathered her into his arms, slowly, reverently.

Her heart calmed as his arms came around her, firm and warm, anchoring her to the ground and lifting her all at once.

Their foreheads met, gently, deliberately and the world around them fell away.

The wind held its breath. The stars shone above.

Their eyes closed, pressed so close together she could feel the rise and fall of his chest match hers. Not as two people, but as one rhythm.

“Ren,” she answered, just as softly, just as reverent.

She inhaled without thinking, wood smoke and something else, something distinctly Ren, and it felt like breathing for the first time.

A low chuckle sounded to her right. “I almost feel guilty interrupting.” Tharion’s voice held humor, but the reverence behind it rang deeper.

In his ceremonial uniform, he stood tall. He looked between them, two halves of a soul reunited, and bowed his head.

“I give each of them away willingly,” he said, softer now, voice carrying not just tradition, but truth. “And I witness this bond in truth.”

Above them, the wind stirred the tahla leaves. Silver petals drifted down around them, swirling. Tharion stepped back, and the circle around them seemed to glow faintly, salt and crushed tahla blossoms catching the moonlight, their scent rich and wild.

Tharion raised his hand slightly, the gesture born from friendship more than formality, and when he spoke, his voice was steady, clear. A witness, yes, but more than that. Honored. Moved.

“You enter into this bond knowing it cannot be broken,” he said. “Not by time. Not by distance. Not even in death.”

The wind stirred through the clearing, rustling the leaves above them, soft as breath. A hush fell, as if the earth itself leaned closer to listen.

“You are no longer two,” Tharion continued. “But one soul, shared. One path, chosen. One flame, eternal. What you build, you build together. What you carry, you do so together. Hereafter, you are not alone. Never alone.”

Ren’s hand tightened around her. Mira felt it, certainty, his love, his awe.

Tharion turned to them fully, eyes steady, his voice softer now, “Speak your vow, and the stars will bear witness.”

Ren pulled back to face her fully, his hands still wrapped around her his thumb tracing slow circles against her back. The glow of the circle cast soft silver light across his face, catching in the tears he didn’t try to hide.

For a moment, he just looked at her, like she was the first and last thing he had ever truly seen.

“I vow to be your home wherever we stand. To hold your light, and to follow you into shadows. I vow to love you in the quiet and in the storm, when you burn and when you break. To never walk ahead of you, never behind, but beside you. Always.”

Mira’s breath caught in her throat. Her heart thundered, but her hands were steady as she lifted them to his face, brushing her fingertips across his jaw. She saw everything in his eyes, his love, his fear, his unshakable belief in her. And when she spoke, it was not a whisper. It was a promise.

"I vow to be your shelter when the night grows cold. To guard your fire, and to meet you in every darkness unafraid. I vow to love you in stillness and in chaos, when you rise and when you fall. To never let go, whether the path is clear or wild. To walk beside you, step for step, always”

The wind picked up, spinning the petals at their feet into the air like a blessing, and the stars above seemed to pulse brighter for a breath, as if the heavens themselves had heard. Tharion bowed his head. Mira didn’t wait. She leaned in, wrapped her arms around Ren’s neck.

The moment her lips met his, the world fell away.

There was no palace. No queens or councils or hiding in dark corridors.

There was only Ren. The shape of his mouth.

The warmth of his breath. The way his arms tightened around her waist like he’d never let go again.

His kiss wasn’t careful. It was raw, a claiming, a surrender, a prayer answered, and a promise made.

A rush of heat flooded her chest, blooming outward, wild and uncontainable. Mira gasped against his lips, her fingers tightening in his hair as something ancient and infinite sparked to life between them.

Her pulse stuttered, then steadied, but not alone.

There was his heartbeat, strong and sure, thrumming in perfect tandem with hers.

She felt him. Not just the press of his hands or the taste of him, but him.

His awe. His fierce, unrelenting devotion.

His love, so deep it stole the air from her lungs.

Above them, the sky broke open. The first streak of silver carved across the stars, brilliant and sudden, like a divine blade slashing the dark. Then another. Then a dozen.

A celestial shower spilled across the sky in waves, silent and furious, trailing golden arcs and white-hot sparks.

They fell like omens, like blessings, like the world itself was shedding its skin and becoming new.

The sky pulsed with fire and wonder, and below it, they held eachother, wrapped in starlight and the unbearable beauty of what they had become.

It wasn’t like falling. It was like returning to something she had always known but never had the words for.

Two souls folding into one. The bond burned through her like light, pure and absolute.

It poured into every hollow space, every scar, every shadow she’d carried.

And in that light, she felt his scars too.

Echoes of pain not her own, but now shared.

It didn’t erase them. It didn’t try to fix her.

It simply met her there. Held her there.

Became hers. Ren rested his forehead against hers, both of them breathless, trembling, undone.

“I felt it,” she whispered, barely a sound.

His eyes searched hers, fierce and gentle all at once. “I know...”