Page 138 of Unravelled
Sarelle’s brows furrowed. “Ren, that’s not possible.” But it was. It had been happening for years.
His fists clenched. “Then explain how I can feel her.”
Silence. Neither of them spoke. Ren inhaled sharply. “You bargained me away before I even drew breath. You sealed my fate before I ever had a chance to claim it. And now you tell me I have no choices left?” His voice rose, anger slipping through the cracks. Sarelle’s breath caught. Cleric's expression darkened.
Ren’s breath came fast, shaking. “You did this,” he whispered, voice breaking. “You made a deal that will cost me my love in exchange for yours.” His words cut through the silence like a blade.
And then, raw, unguarded, "If I was only ever meant to be payment, if I was only ever meant to be sacrificed for the price of your love, then why have me at all?"
The silence was suffocating. Sarelle looked at him then, and for the first time in his life, Ren saw unfathomable grief in her eyes. She turned, meeting Caelric’s gaze. Something passed between them.
Sarelle exhaled sharply, her fingers trembling at her sides. "You are not a sacrifice," she whispered. "You are our son." Silence. Sarelle turned back to Ren, her voice soft, final.
“If you can find an acolyte, then you have our blessing” Ren swallowed hard. "Otherwise, you will wait until twenty-seven."
42
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.
