Page 69 of Unravelled
The Queen’s lips curved, a soft expression that seemed both warm and far away. “Please,” she said, her voice drifting like smoke. “Call me Danlea. Titles build walls, and I do not need to distance with either of you.”
Mira and Nerra exchanged a glance, both nodding, though the shift unsettled them. There was something intimate about it, something disarming.
Danlea turned back to the veiled candlelight. “To answer you Nerra, No,” she continued, her tone even and precise. “The gift of true sight is rare. Some are born with a flicker, a dream, a fleeting echo. Others see nothing at all. But those who are chosen,” her fingers traced a slow arc through the air, “carry the weight of that vision for a lifetime.”
She paused. The silence stretched. Her hands moved gently, sketching shapes as if threading unseen constellations between them.
“In Myrdathis, we do not choose our royalty through lineage or courtly favor. A vision comes. A knowing. It may be a name spoken in sleep, or a face seen through the veil of time. And when the stars demand it, the mantle passes.”
Nerra furrowed her brow, trying to process the meaning.But Mira, watching the way Danlea navigated through silence like it was her native language, she felt something shift.
“You already know who will succeed you,” Mira said softly, almost to herself. Danlea turned slightly away from her.
The candlelight caught the gleam in her strange, opalescent eyes. “The stars have shown me many things, Mira,” she said. “But the future is not a single road. It bends, it branches. To see is not to know with certainty but to hold a candle to the mist.”
Her words hung in the air, weighty and delicate. Mira felt a chill slide down her spine, as if something ancient had reached out to brush against her skin. The candle flames shivered, their light dancing on the walls, and for a heartbeat, it seemed as if the entire room breathed with them. Nerra’s eyes flicked to the shifting shapes, her confusion deepening, but Mira remained still.
“Are you... uncertain of the vision?” Nerra asked hesitantly. Danlea’s smile softened, a trace of sorrow pulling at the corners of her mouth.
“Uncertainty is part of truths very nature,” she said. “Even the brightest star is veiled by clouds from time to time." The Queen’s head tilted slightly, the curve of her neck graceful and exposed. "I know the staging of what is to come, but the pieces shift, just as shadows do.Like standing in a doorway with one foot in each room, never fully in one or the other." Danlea looked at Nerra. "You would understand that, being raised at the border."
Nerra’s hands stilled, the scent of crushed herbs still clung to her fingers. “Yes,” she whispered. “Where Bharalyn, Kharador, and Lyren meet. My family traded between the lands.”
A soft hum rose from Danlea, deep and knowing. “You are a child of three. Each one in your bones, each one whispering something different.” The Queen tilted her head slightly, the silver threads of her wrap catching the flickering light. “It is a good thing. They will help you know where to stand in the days coming.” The Queen sighed, a breath that seemed to carry the weight of dreams. Nerra’s brow furrowed, but she said nothing.
Mira’s hands fell to her sides, the ritual complete, yet something in her chest whispered they had only just brushed the edge of understanding. And they had only glimpsed what lay beneath.
“Thank you,” Danlea whispered. Whether it was meant for them or for the silent forces that filled the chamber, Mira could not tell. “You may go now. I need a few moment of sleep to adjust to walking in the light”
They withdrew in silence, the door clicking shut behind them with a sound that felt more like a seal than a dismissal. The cool air of the corridor met them like a breath of reality. Mira felt the stone beneath her shoes. It was too solid, too cold. The palace was too bright, even cloaked in the early shadows of dawn.
The corridor had warmed slightly with the stirring breath of morning. Lanterns guttered low on their hooks as the palace slowly came to life around them, the hush of candlelight giving way to the distant clatter of kitchens and the rustle of attendants beginning their rounds.
Mira and Nerra retraced their steps through the winding hall that led to the altar chamber. The stone beneath their feet felt less cold now, the path familiar, though the memory of Danlea’s strange, starlit presence still clung to their skin like smoke.
“What is she?” Nerra asked. Her voice carried not just curiosity, but awe and fear. Mira reached out, brushing her fingertips against the smooth wall beside them.
“I don’t know,” she said slowly. “She’s a queen, but something in her feels older than that. Something Ancient”
Nerra turned slightly, her expression unreadable, the flickering torchlight catching in her eyes. “ But how does someone come to be like that? To know so much without being told?”
Mira’s lips parted. She let the silence stretch a moment longer before answering. “I dont know...” They reached a quiet fork in the hallway. Mira paused. The moment pressed at her chest, the weight of Danlea’s presence still lingering.
Nerra shivered, her hands tucked into her sleeves. “Do you think she sees us?” she asked. “Not just the surface, but... deeper?”
“Yes,” Mira said. And she meant it. “And not just who we are. What the kingdoms might become.”
The words landed gently between them. Nerra’s breath caught, and her hand drifted free of her cloak. Mira took it, fingers warm against the cool of the corridor, anchoring them both.
The sanctum was quieter than usual, steeped in the soft haze of early morning light. Mira and Nerra stepped back into its cool embrace, the scent of lavender and old incense still lingering in the air. Streaks of rose and gold filtered through the narrow stained-glass windows, painting the stone floor in fractured hues as the sky outside slowly lightened.
Cleric Perrin stood at the center of the room, her white robes motionless, as if she had been standing there since before dawn. She turned at the sound of their footsteps, her eyes as calm and sharp as ever, her veil catching a glint of light from the altar candles.
“How did you fare?” she said simply, then let her gaze rest on Nerra for a breath longer than necessary.
Nerra straightened instinctively, hands clasping before her. “Well. I didn’t speak out of turn.”
Perrin’s lips curved, just barely. “Good. She is not a spectacle.” Nerra nodded again, more earnestly this time, understanding the correction had been both a reminder and a kindness.
