Valerian looked at Miralen for a long moment before finally breaking the silence.
"Listen, Miralen... some things aren't meant to be known too early. You're not ready yet."
"Not ready yet?" she shot back, voice trembling with anger.
"Not ready to know about my own mother? Why do you keep hiding things from me?"
Valerian turned his face away, his jaw tightening.
"Dad, answer me!"
"ENOUGH, MIRALEN!" Valerian's voice thundered through the room, sharp and heavy. Then, just as suddenly, he seemed to realize what he'd done. His tone softened, his breathing slowed.
Miralen froze. Her eyes locked onto his-wide, startled-before slowly falling to the ground.
"I'm... sorry, Dad," she whispered, her voice barely audible.
Valerian said nothing. He turned and left, leaving behind a silence so thick it almost hurt.
Miralen sat alone before the mirror, the room bathed in a dim golden glow. Her reflection stared back at her-eyes glistening, face pale. She wasn't used to hearing her father raise his voice. But beneath the sadness, something else stirred inside her: determination.
---
Valerian walked through the dim hallway until he reached its end. A large portrait hung before him-a family of three.
A younger Valerian stood beside a regal chair where a woman sat, her features delicate and proud. His father, Aurelian, stood on the other side.
But the glass was cracked-right across the woman's face.
Anastaria Evander, wife of Valerian and mother of Miralen.
Her emerald eyes, once so full of life, seemed to stare back through the fracture.
Valerian gazed at her, the air around him heavy. Guilt? Regret? Pain? Even he couldn't tell anymore.
He turned and walked back toward Miralen's room. His hand hovered above the door, about to knock-but then he stopped. Through the silence, he heard faint sobs.
His heart twisted.
That promise-the one he had made long ago to never make her cry-was now broken. He sighed softly, lowering his hand. He wanted to comfort her, but something deep inside told him he couldn't. Not yet.
So he walked away, leaving only the whisper of his footsteps behind.
---
Miralen lay curled up in her bed, the blanket drawn to her waist.
"Why... why doesn't Dad understand?" she murmured, voice cracking between quiet sobs. "Why can't he see that I deserve to know? To know about her..."
Tears rolled down her cheeks. She wiped them away quickly and closed her eyes, forcing herself to sleep.
But even as sleep claimed her, questions echoed in her mind -questions her heart wasn't ready for the answers to.
---
The next day, it was weekend.
When Miralen finally opened her eyes, the sunlight had already spilled across her room. She'd slept far longer than usual. Her hairpin still rested in her hair-oddly, it hadn't hurt at all while she slept.
Yawning softly, she sat up and walked toward the mirror. Her reflection blinked back at her.
For a single heartbeat, her eyes glowed green instead of amber.
She froze.
Then she blinked again-and they were normal.
Miralen leaned closer, confused, her pulse quickening. "Did I imagine that?" she wondered. After a few seconds, she shook her head and decided to brush it off.
She slipped on her slippers and headed downstairs, following the quiet scent of coffee drifting through the house. The hallway felt still-too still.
When she entered the kitchen, she found her father already there, standing near the marble counter where the coffee machine hummed softly.
Her footsteps slowed. Each one hesitant.
Valerian turned, his eyes following her as she moved toward him and began preparing her own cup.
"I'm sorry... Miralen," he said quietly, his voice weighted with regret.
Miralen's hands paused for just a moment before she continued. "It's okay, Dad... It was my fault. I asked questions I shouldn't have." Her tone was calm, almost too calm, but she didn't look at him.
Valerian's eyes widened a little. He hadn't expected forgiveness-certainly not so soon. "R-really? You're not angry with me?" he asked, almost hesitantly.
She shook her head slightly. "No. I was never angry with you to begin with."
Her words lingered between them like mist-soft, heavy, and full of something unsaid.
After a few seconds, Valerian simply nodded. "Okay..." he murmured, his voice quiet but relieved. Then he turned and left, the faint echo of his footsteps fading down the hall.
---
Miralen walked back toward her room, the warm mug still in her hand. She stopped at her door but didn't open it.
Her gaze drifted toward the end of the hallway-a corner she had never explored before.
Something in her stirred.
Slowly, she turned and began to walk toward it. The further she went, the dimmer the light became, until only the soft golden glow from the window behind her remained.
At the end of the hallway hung the portrait-the one she had always avoided.
Three figures. Her father, her grandfather... and her mother.
Miralen stared at the woman in the painting. The same woman who looked so much like her-except for those green eyes.
It almost felt as if the woman's gaze followed her.
Then, faintly, a voice drifted through the air-a lullaby. Soft, distant, and impossibly familiar.
"Come to me now,
The past of time hangs around me, following...
Souls and bounds tied by the thread,
You will never find its end...
Lies and truths are tied by me,
When the time meets the memories..."
Miralen froze, her eyes wide. The melody was beautiful-gentle and haunting at the same time. It wrapped around her like mist, whispering to something deep inside her chest.
And just as suddenly as it had begun, it faded.
The silence that followed was deafening.
She looked around, heart pounding. The sound had come from somewhere in the house... but she couldn't tell where.
Or who had been singing it.
(The end of chapter 2)