Miria sprinted through the streets until she reached Elma's sister's house. Her heart pounding, she frantically knocked on the door, her short breaths betraying the urgency of her visit. After a few seconds of waiting, the door opened to reveal a woman with a surprised look.
— Miria? she said hesitantly. What are you doing here? Is there a problem?
Miria nodded, trying to catch her breath.
— I… have something to tell you. But first… may I come in? I need to rest for a moment.
The woman seemed to hesitate, studying Miria's face, then finally stepped aside to let her in.
— Of course. Come in.
Miria sat down on a chair while her host disappeared into the kitchen. When she returned, she handed Miria a glass of water, which she drank in one gulp before setting the empty glass on the table.
— Now, tell me what's going on, the woman asked, crossing her arms.
Miria stared at her for a moment before saying in a calm but firm tone:
— Aunt Elma…
The woman's face immediately hardened.
— Don't call me that, she corrected sharply. I am not Elma. I'm her sister. We look alike, yes, but…
Miria smiled slightly, amused by her reaction.
— Funny… You look so much alike that you even have the same tattoo on your neck.
The woman flinched almost imperceptibly, but Miria continued:
— Not to mention that burn on your hand… A burn you got while protecting me years ago when boiling water almost spilled on me.
She crossed her arms and added with a sarcastic look:
— So? Do you still want to make me believe you're someone else?
Elma, unmasked, let out a long sigh before slowly sitting down across from Miria. Her gaze darkened as she murmured:
— You should never have come here. You're putting yourself in danger, Miria.
Miria let out a bitter chuckle.
— Danger? Oh, I'm already quite familiar with it. I've been attacked twice in the past few days by people looking for a certain grimoire.
Elma jolted, her eyes suddenly wide.
— Did you just say… a grimoire?
Miria slowly stood up and nodded.
— Yes. That's precisely why I came to see you. I tried to get answers from my mother, but she refused to tell me anything. So now, I'm constantly living in fear of…
Elma abruptly interrupted her, looking increasingly worried.
— Wait… Wait a minute… Are you telling me you spoke to Katrina? That you told her you were attacked?
Miria hesitated for a moment before lowering her gaze slightly.
— Actually… no. I didn't tell her about the attacks. I only tried to learn more about my father…
Elma closed her eyes and rubbed her temples before exhaling in exasperation:
— Why? Why didn't you tell her anything?
Miria remained silent, unable to come up with a satisfying answer.
— Where is Katrina right now? Elma finally asked.
— On a business trip, Miria replied.
— When is she coming back?
— In three weeks…
Elma froze before repeating in disbelief:
— Three weeks? Impossible! You're in danger, she needs to be near you!
She abruptly stood up and turned toward the window, lost in thought. Then, as if a detail had suddenly come back to her, she turned to Miria.
— How did you survive these attacks?
— A young man… Miria replied after a moment of hesitation. His name is Asher. He's the one who saved me.