Page 31 of Unravelled
“It was…” Mira’s voice faltered. “Worse than I imagined. But there’s still people there. People worth helping.” Perrin nodded, her hands folding before her.
“It’s strange, isn’t it? To see destruction and still feel hope. Like trying to carry water in your hands.”
Mira swallowed, her throat suddenly tight. “Iwonder if I did enough. If I was enough.”
“I am sure you did everything you could,” Perrin said. “and you saw truth of what is happening out there.” She let the words linger, then turned back toward the altar, her voice shifting back into a lighter lilt. “Now go, they’ll need you to collect the petals from the gardens.” Mira nodded, she didn’t reply, only turned to go. The echo of the temple’s quiet halls stretching ahead of her.
Mira spent the rest of the morning in the lower gardens, where the sun had finally crested above the palace walls. The scent of earth and blooms was heavy in the warm air, and her fingers were already stained with pollen and crushed petals.
She moved slowly, basket in hand, brushing her fingers over each bloom before plucking its petals carefully. She looked down at her full basket. Colorful. Balanced. Beautiful. Repetitive. A task that asked for nothing more than her hands, her breath, her patience. The soft whisper of bees, the rustle of a breeze, they helped her forget the weight of eyes and expectations, even for a moment.
She bent to gather a cluster of bright amber marigolds when the sound of hurried footsteps and fabric brushing against stone reached her.
“Mira!” a familiar voice sang out, far too cheerfully. Mira looked up just in time to see Nerra round the edge of the archway, arms loaded with neatly folded fabrics and a grin as wide as the sun. Nerra laughed, unbothered.
“We’ve been given flower duty, and I am delighted.” Mira tilted her head, eyes narrowing with mock teasing.
“Of course you are.” She couldn’t help the slight lift at the corner of her mouth.
Nerra dropped the stack of linens onto a nearby bench, then clapped her hands together. “I already have a vision, by the way. I’m thinking of floating garlands. Maybe arrange the petals by color gradient? You know, to mirror the sun's descent.”
Mira grinned. “You’ve put too much thought into this.” Nerra’s energy could level an army, and she loved her for it.
“I’ve put exactly enough thought into this,” Nerra replied with a wink. “Now come on. I saw a basket of twilight orchids near the fountain that would look divine along the entrance to the great hall.” Mira hesitated, glancing down at her half-filled basket of quiet simple flowers. Her plan was different from Nerra’s celebratory vision. Quieter. Still... the energy in Nerra’s smile was impossible to resist.
“All right, come on then" as Nerra brushed her palms on her skirts. Mira followed, the warmth of the sun curling over her shoulders like a shawl. And for the first time in days, her mind felt just a little lighter.
???
By the late afternoon, Mira and Nerra were knelt on the floor of the great hall, surrounded by baskets overflowing with petals and trailing vines. Sunlight filtered down through the high stained-glass windows, washing the flowers in waves of color that changed with every passing cloud.
The vast chamber had changed under their hands. Its stone bones softened by color and scent, transformed by ritual and intention. The hall bloomed. Petals swept in deliberate arcs and swirls across the floor, winding toward five offering pedestals positioned beneath each stained-glass panel. Five paths. Five legacies. Five Navigators.
They had chosen each flower offering with care. Violets for Myrran, arranged in drifting constellations across the eastward steps, reflecting soft light with a faint shimmer. Fire lilies for Bharas clustered in bold spirals at the center, their orange-red petals radiant beneath the dome. Stormbells for Kharad lined along the base of the columns, their delicate deep blue flowers catching the breeze from the open archways. Sea glass poppies for Lyren, set in low bowls of water that mirrored the ceiling’s painted skies. Star-vine for Drala, woven through the throne dais railings, its silver strands trailing like spun fate.
Nerra sat back on her heels, hands streaked with pollen, and let out a long breath. “A little behind schedule but, if this doesn’t please the Navigators, I'm sending a complaint. ”
Mira let herself smile. It was true, but she couldn't help poking Nerra. “You said that in the garden.”
“And I’ll say it again at my funeral if the arrangements are ugly,” Nerra replied. “No one wants to ascend surrounded by wilting greens and some sticks.” Mira laughed, brushing a smear of pollen from her wrist. But the levity barely had time to settle before she caught the sound of boots echoing on stone. She looked up to see Tharion.
He paused just inside the hall, caught mid-step by the transformation. His eyes swept the petals, the light, the impossible quiet. For a moment, he simply stood there, looking at the space she and Nerra had shaped.
His eyes landed on Mira's. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”he said quietly.
Nerra nudged Mira gently and stood, brushing off her skirt. “I’ll go check the stormbells. Again.”
Tharion drifted further in to the hall, gaze shifting toward the star-vine woven across the dais. “It’s beautiful.”
“It was Nerra’s vision,” Mira said. “I just followed her orders.” His eyes flicked toward her. She stood. “What are you doing here?” she asked, keeping her voice low.
He paused for a moment, then nodded toward Bharas. “I came to pay my respects.” She nodded him forward, and Tharion moved to the image of Bharas and knelt.
For a moment, he was still, his head bowed in silent reflection beneath the shifting light. Mira watched him quietly, saying nothing as he rose.
“I need you to come with me tonight.” she blurted out. That caught his full attention. She lowered her voice, “Ninth bell. Kitchens. Back entrance.” Tharion’s jaw tightened slightly. “It was Brahn’s request,” Mira added quietly. “He asked for both of us.”
He studied her for a beat. “Do you know why?”
