A dull pain pulsed through Miria's head.
His eyelids fluttered before slowly opening. His vision was blurry, drowned in a grayish light. The smell of damp stone and dust filled the air.
She tried to move.
Impossible.
His wrists refused to obey. His legs remained still.
His breath caught.
She forced her neck and lifted her head slightly despite the pain. His gaze moved down to his arms… then to his ankles.
Chains.
Solid. Cold. Fixed to the stone.
She was tied up.
His back rested on a large slab of carved stone, similar to an ancient altar or sacrificial bed. The ceiling above her was just a large block of concrete.
A shiver ran through his body.
Footsteps sounded.
Calm down. Insured.
Fishlegs appeared in his field of vision, his hands behind his back, a satisfied smile hanging on his lips.
"Ah… you're awake," he said in an almost cordial tone.
He tilted his head.
—Slept well?
Miria did not answer.
His eyes remained fixed on the ceiling.
As if he didn't exist.
Fishlegs' smile widened.
— I see... Do you even refuse to look at me?
He came closer.
—Are you afraid that I will steal your heart?
A slight grin stretched Miria's lips.
"Tell me…" she replied in a dry voice without turning her head…
Is it the weight of the years that makes you so desperate that you believe you are beautiful?
A silence.
Then Fishlegs burst out laughing.
A frank, almost amused laugh.
— Incredible... You're as spicy as your great-grandmother.
He crossed his arms.
— No wonder Asher fell in love with you.
Miria's eyes opened suddenly.
Her gaze finally turned to him.
Fishlegs smiles, satisfied.
— Ah… there you go. I touched a sensitive spot.
He slowly took out a yellowed photo from the inside pocket of his coat.
— Let's make a deal.
Tell me where the grimoire is…
And I'll tell you everything about your family. On your grandmother...
And on Asher.
Miria immediately looked away.
— Keep dreaming.
Fishlegs sighed theatrically.
— Ouch… I knew you would say that.
He shrugged his shoulders.
— Fortunately, I have a lot of ways to get someone to talk.
He held up the photo.
- Look at.
Miria ignored him.
— Come on… it was you who wanted to understand, right?
After a few seconds of resistance, curiosity won out.
She turned her head slightly.
His eyes rested on the photo.
And his heart skipped a beat.
In the image, old and worn by time, stood two smiling people.
On the left…
Asher.
Younger, but without a doubt.
And by his side...
A young woman with a bright smile.
Wavy black hair. Deep brown eyes.
But the face...
It was his.
Line for line.
Like a reflection from another era.
- Surprise ? Fishlegs said amusedly.
Even I didn't believe it at first. Two women, from two different eras… with the same face and the same name.
Miria's breathing became erratic.
"But don't get me wrong," he continued. This Miria is not your direct grandmother. You are descended from his older brother. She never had children...
He smiled coldly.
— She died young.
Miria stared at him.
— Do you want to know how?
He leaned down slightly.
—I killed her.
The world seemed to freeze.
Fishlegs continued quietly:
— Your family has protected the grimoire for generations. Like you, she knew its location. And like you... she refused to talk.
His smile became cruel.
—And love sometimes pushes people to make big mistakes...
He walked slowly.
—There was a girl... Madly in love with Asher. But he… only saw Miria.
His gaze hardened.
— Out of jealousy, she came to ask me for help. But things went wrong. Very bad.
A shudder ran through the room.
—The accident killed Miria…and almost killed Asher too.
If he's still alive today... it's only because he was turned into a vampire.
Anger rose suddenly in Miria.
His heart was beating wildly.
And suddenly—
The world turned upside down.