Page 98 of Unravelled
“There’s something else,” she murmured, her voice barely more than a tremor. Tharion looked up at her again, his eyes tired but open, waiting.
“I was with Ren last night.” The words didn’t come sharp or defensive. Just quiet. Steady. “It wasn’t the Emberbane. It wasn't an impulse. It was a choice. My choice.”
Tharion didn’t flinch. Didn’t look surprised. His eyes searched hers, and for a long moment, he said nothing. Mira pressed on, needing him to understand. Not to approve, but to know.
“I need to be honest with you. You deserve that. We both do.” She swallowed. “And I need you to know I still care about you. I don’t want to lose you completely. Not as a friend.” She look down at the ground. "But if that's not what you want I would understand."
A wind stirred through the trees, scattering a shower of golden leaves between them.
“I want you to be happy, Tharion,” she said, softer now. “Truly. Even if it’s not with me.”
His shoulders rose and fell with a slow breath, and then, quietly, unexpectedly, he smiled. It was small and weary, but it was real.
She blinked. “You’re not upset?”
He shook his head. “How could I be? He’s my brother in arms, Mira. And you…” He met her eyes again, and there was no bitterness there. Just warmth, and maybe something like relief. “You deserve someone who sees you. Who chooses you.” his small smile widened"I’m glad you chose him.”
Emotion swelled in her throat, and she had no words for the gratitude that settled like sunlight in her chest. She stepped forward, and Tharion opened his arms without hesitation. She folded into his embrace, her hands pressing gently against his back as she rested her cheek against his chest.
His heartbeat was steady, a quiet rhythm that anchored her to the moment. He rested his chin lightly atop her head, his breath brushing through her hair as he exhaled.
They stood there, bound not by the promises they couldn’t keep, but by the friendship they could still hold on to. For all the love she had lost, for all the dreams that had crumbled between them, Tharion was still him. Still the boy who had always stood by her side.
For the moment, they simply stood in the autumn light, surrounded by falling leaves and the echo of something that had ended. Tharion pulled back just enough to meet her eyes, a smile ghosting across his lips, tired, knowing.
“Well,” he said, voice low and edged with something that wasn’t quite amusing, “ I guess Ren’s your problem now.”
Mira huffed a soft laugh, the sound catching in her throat. “I think he’d say the same about me.”
Tharion’s smile turned lopsided, a flash of old warmth in the autumn light. “He would never.”
She touched his arm briefly, grounding the moment, then stepped back. “Perrin will think I celebrated too much last night if I don't show up soon."
He gave a half-hearted mock bow. Mira smiled as she turned away.
???
The altar chamber were quiet, still recovering in the night's celebrations. The soft amber glow of sunlight spilled in through the high stained-glass windows. Dust motes danced in the slanted light, drifting lazily between the shafts of color that fell across the smooth stone floor.
Mira’s steps echoed softly as she approached the altar she had attended each morning since her relegation began. The ritual had become more than penance. It had become a rhythm. She had grown familiar with the hush of the chamber, the weight of its stillness, the sacred ache it asked her to carry.
Cleric Perrin was already there. She stood at the base of the altar in full ceremonial robes, her veil removed, hair catching the morning light. Her hands were folded, her expression unreadable but calm, as always. Mira slowed, unease curling in her chest like a whispered warning.
“I thought I’d begin before the morning prayers,” Mira said. Her voice was quieter than she meant it to be.
Perrin turned to her fully. “That is unnecessary.”
Mira’s brow furrowed. Something shifted in her chest.
“You’ve been released from relegation.” Perrin stated.
The words hit her like a bell in the silence, sharp and soft all at once.
Mira blinked, unsure she’d heard correctly. “What?”
“You’ve done what was asked of you. And more.” Perrin stepped closer, her voice low and certain “Your duties for me are complete. You’ve given your silence, your service, your time. You are no longer relegated Lady Solwynd. You may return to the activities your station demands of you.”
For a moment, Mira didn’t move. Didn’t speak. She had carried the weight of her relegation and had woven itself into her bones. To be freed from it felt untethering. Like stepping onto a ship just as the moorings were cut.
