Page 94 of Unravelled

Mira

The world bled back into existence in slow, aching fragments.

A breeze stirred the branches of the Tahla tree above her, leaves whispering against one another, their glow fractured by the moonlight spilling through the garden.

The scent of damp earth and tahla filled her lungs, grounding her, tethering her to the present as the past slammed into her all at once.

Mira gasped, a sharp, broken sound, her fingers digging into the cool grass beneath her as the weight of forgotten time crashed over her like a tidal wave.

Images flickered behind her eyes, memories buried, stolen, burned away, rising now from the ashes.

Ren’s voice. His touch. His love. Him. The bond, once hollow and frayed, thrummed with renewed life, surging through her like a wildfire reignited.

It was overwhelming. Scorching. Undeniable.

Every emotion she had once lost came back tenfold. Love. Grief. Longing. Fury.

But beneath it all, one truth had never left her. Not really. Not even when Caelric had tried to erase it from her mind.

Ren. Her vision swam, but only one thing came into focus, him. Ren’s face hovered just inches from hers, green eyes locked onto hers with an intensity that stole what little breath she had left.

He was shaking. His hands cradled her face, warm against her chilled skin, thumbs brushing slowly over her cheekbones like he had done countless times before.

Through the bond, she felt everything. His raw and jagged grief. His unrelenting fear. The panic that she might vanish again if he blinked. But beneath it all, stronger than the pain, deeper than the terror, was a singular, burning thing. Love. Unyielding. Undiminished.

Mira didn’t pull away. She leaned into him, her fingers rising to press over his, grounding herself in the weight of him, in the warmth she had lost for too long.

Her voice trembled as she spoke, barely more than a whisper. “Ren…”

He drew in a sharp breath, the sound ragged in the silence. He stilled beneath her touch, afraid that if he moved, she might vanish.

His voice was fragile, reverent, laced with something between hope and dread. “Mira?”

There was a pause, just a breath, just long enough for the ache to bloom.

Then softly, achingly, “My Kalren...”

She surged up and kissed him. It wasn’t soft.

It wasn’t careful. It was everything. A collision of desperation and hunger.

A kiss that held too much pain, too much time, too much longing to be anything gentle.

His lips crashed against hers like a dam breaking, all restraint gone, like he needed to feel her with every part of himself just to believe she was real.

Mira clung to him, her hands fisting into his shirt, pulling him closer. She had missed this. Missed him. More than she had words for. Ren kissed her like he’d been drowning for months, like she was the first breath of air he’d been allowed to take.

His tears mixed with hers as she deepened the kiss, hands threading into his hair, anchoring herself to the only thing in the world that mattered.

The bond surged, no longer hollow. No longer broken.

It roared through her. She felt Ren through it, all of him, raw, wild, and desperate.

The unbearable relief. The agony of having ever lost her.

The fury at the man who had stolen her. Mira pulled away suddenly, breath ragged, her fingers still tangled in the fabric of his shirt.

The bells. Loud. Droning. Unrelenting. A chill slid down her spine. If Caelric’s weight was lifted from her mind. If the bond was whole again. Then that meant… Her heart lurched. She didn’t explain. She couldn’t. She ran.

“Mira!” Ren’s voice cracked behind her, raw with confusion and fear, but she didn’t stop.

His panic surged through the bond. Wild. Sharp. Desperate. It clawed at her, but she pushed forward, feet pounding against the stone path. The night air thickened around her, pressing in as she tore through the hedges, twisting through the maze.

She burst into the courtyard. The Tahla tree towered above, its silver leaves whispering. But the air was wrong. Still. Heavy. Silent. She saw him. Tharion. He stood alone, unmoving, his back turned toward them. Ren skidded to a stop at her side, chest heaving.

“Mira, what is it?” Ren’s breathless voice came from behind her.

She couldn’t answer. He followed her gaze and froze. Tharion hadn’t moved. The space around him glowed. Her chest tightened. Her voice barely carried.

“Tharion, what have you done…”

A long pause. Then, he turned. Molten gold burned in place of his eyes. A firestorm behind his gaze, too bright, too unnatural. As if something far greater, far older, looked out through him.

Ren staggered back a step. Flames curled in Tharion’s hands, licking up his arms, twisting around his forearms like they belonged to him. The ground beneath him was scorched black, heat radiating off him in thick, suffocating waves.

His expression was empty. Blank. His body taut with something Mira had never seen before. Power like that was never given freely. Power that demanded suffering. Sacrifice. And it had passed to the only one standing when Caelric fell.

To one who had endured an endless duty. To one who had bled, not for glory, not for legacy, but for the love of his brother. For Ren.

Through the bond, she felt Ren’s horror crash into her, grief and understanding colliding in a single, unbearable wave.

Tharion had inherited Bharas' Heartfire.