Page 84 of Unravelled
Danlea’s let the boat drift closer, its wooden frame groaning softly as the water of stars lapped at its sides. Then, finally, she spoke.
“This, Mira” she murmured, “is your choice.”
Mira’s fingers hovered over the golden convergence, her pulse matching the slow, steady rhythm of the lines around it. The warmth from the water seeped into her skin, curling into the marrow of her bones. It was unlike anything she had ever felt, not just power, not just knowledge, but something more. Something alive.
The boat rocked gently beneath her, carrying them forward, though there was no wind, no current, only motion. Danlea sat in perfect stillness, watching, waiting.
Mira swallowed hard, her voice barely above the whisper of waves against the wooden hull. “What… am I choosing?”
Danlea’s silver eyes reflected the constellations around them, as though the stars themselves bent to her presence. “Your path.” Her voice was as steady as the sea beneath them, as the stars that lit their way. “The choice is yours, which way to steer.”
Mira’s chest tensed, her breath shallow and strained. Steer. She had spent her whole life moving between both, and even more so since her memories were stolen, grasping not for survival, not for the greater good, but for the simple, radical act of choosing. Of claiming something for herself. This moment, this felt like her choice entirely. No one was guiding her hand, no manipulation shaping her path. It was hers. And it terrified her. Mira tore her gaze away from it, from the unspoken promise tangled within its threads. She turned to Danlea instead.
“What happens if I refuse?” she demanded. Her voice cracked against the silence of the star-filled void.
Danlea did not flinch. She simply tilted her head, unshaken by the venom in Mira’s words. “To let the boat drift is also a choice.”
Beneath them, the golden threads throbbed, causing the boat to sway. The sea of stars whispered. Danlea leaned forward, just slightly. Enough that the space between them lessened, enough that her words came low, careful, deliberate. Then, gently, “This is the bargain you made with them.”
Mira’s breath hitched. The word curled through her mind like a ghost, pressing against something distant, something buried deep. “With who?” she whispered.
“I can not tell you, you will know this in your own time” Danlea's voice was as smooth as water lapping against the sides of their boat. “Soon.”
The stars under them pulsed faster, and she felt the pull of waking. Queen Danlea's form wavered, the delicate strands of her gown unraveling into mist. Her edges blurred, as if the dream itself was pulling her away, strand by strand. Yet her expression remained serene.
Mira’s vision blurred as she hear a whisper, “Wake now, Mira”
The stars folded inward. The sea of light turned dark. Soft mist swallowed the constellations one by one. The boat faded. The warmth receded and Mira fell.
???
She blinked, breath caught in her chest, the scent of lavender grounding her in reality. Her thoughts stirred sluggishly, but gradually, the room came back into focus. Someone, gentle yet steady, held her back in silent support. She lifted her eyes and met Perrin's. Her veiled face hovered close, her white robes a curtain of softness and sanctuary. Mira’s head rested against the Cleric’s shoulder, as if she had been there for hours.
Danlea knelt beside them, her gown pooling like moonlight on the floor. Her milky eyes studied Mira with an intensity.
“Do you understand?” Danlea asked. The question pressed like a tide pulling at Mira. She closed her eyes.
The cracked marble of the Great Hall. Brahn seated where he never should have been. The stars. Sarelle. Ren. The flicker of truth that danced just beyond her reach. And that final golden convergence, waiting for her. Her choice. Not yet made.
Mira opened her eyes. The room was soft with silver candlelight. Her throat ached, but her voice was steady when she finally spoke. “I understand.”.
Danlea nodded. Perrin shifted only slightly beneath her, but her voice was quiet and warm, a hum beneath Mira’s bones.
“Come. The Veiled Night approaches, and you must be ready.”
23
Mira entered the grand foyer, arm linked with Danlea as the gentle hum of conversation and the delicate clink of crystal welcomed her. The room buzzed with life. Courtiers and nobles draped in velvets and silks moved in a vibrant tapestry of color and sound, while jewels caught the candlelight to scatter fractured rainbows across stone walls and gilded frames.
Although Danlea exchanged pleasantries, Mira remained vigilant. Her fingers brushed the waist of her corset. The champagne bodice clung to her torso, its navy constellations embroidered along the boning, catching the soft glow of the chandeliers overhead. The garment cinched her waist and lifted her chest, cascading down like a waterfall of starlight. Danlea insisted she wear the gown.
Beyond them, towering oak doors stood firmly shut, their heavy panels carved with the likenesses of past rulers and adorned with gilded flourishes that danced in the dim corridor light. They blocked the lively foyer from the great hall and the opulent spectacle waiting beyond.
Mira could feel the anticipation in the air. The polite laughter, and the clink of fine silverware and crystal goblets. Guests glided across marble floors in rustling silks and brocade, their steps echoing as they waited for the grand reveal. Every year the secretive theme of the night, would be known only at the moment the doors swung open.
Mira frowned. Lord Asric was this year’s patron. Whatever waited behind those doors it would be a performance of ambition and peril. And Torvyn? Navigators only knew what Asric had manipulated him into.
The corridor hushed as deliberate footsteps echoed through the marble halls. Lord Asric moved with the quiet authority of a man who owned the room. The candlelight cast flickering shadows over his deep crimson coat, which was adorned with gold embroidery, curling along the edges like flickering flames. His dark vest, gleaming buttons, neatly arranged silk cravat, and a sharply tilted black hat all spoke of elegance intertwined with mischief.
