The Shadows Among Us.

CHAPTER 15

Mira leaned forward, her tone gentle but insistent. “Dad… what was Grandma like when you were growing up? Before Grandpa died?”

Her father paused, searching his memory. “Honestly, she was different back then. She was… lively, I guess. Always busy in the garden, humming old songs, telling stories about things that happened long ago—sometimes things that didn’t make much sense to the rest of us. She loved to cook, loved the woods. People in town used to say she had a wild streak, but she was kind. Warm.”

He smiled faintly at the memory, then his expression grew more thoughtful. “Sometimes she’d say odd things, though. She’d warn us kids not to wander too far into the woods or stay out after dark. She always said there were ‘old things’ out there—spirits, shadows, things that watched. She kept certain herbs in the house, strange old books, and that necklace she wore all the time. I never saw her take it off.”

He looked at Mira, a touch of sadness in his eyes. “I didn’t think much of it back then. I guess I just thought it was the way some grandmothers are—full of superstitions. But she was a good mother. She loved us, even when she seemed a little… apart from the world.”

Mira’s curiosity deepened as she pressed further, “What about your grandmother, Dad? What was she like?”

Her father gave her a thoughtful, almost puzzled look. “My grandmother?” he repeated, as if rolling the words around in his mind. “She actually died before I was born. I never knew her, and, to be honest, my mother never really talked about her much. I suppose I just… never thought to ask.”

He shrugged, a hint of regret in his eyes. “Now that you mention it, I wish I had. There were old photos of her somewhere, but I don’t remember much else. Mom kept her past pretty close to her chest.”

He glanced between Mira and Linda, then offered a faint smile. “Funny how you don’t realize what you don’t know until someone finally asks.”

Mira nodded, absorbing the new gap in her family history—a missing piece that seemed suddenly more important than ever.

David studied his daughter, concern and curiosity mingling in his eyes. His voice softened as he asked, “Sweetheart, why all these questions about my mother? What’s going on? Is there something you’re not telling us?”

Mira hesitated for a moment, glancing at Ashen and Asmodeus for reassurance. She felt the weight of the necklace in her pocket, the strange symbols still tingling against her palm. Taking a steady breath, she met her father’s gaze.

“I just…realized how little I know about our family, especially Grandma. Some things have been happening lately that have made me wonder if there’s more to our history than we thought. I found her old necklace upstairs, and it feels… important, somehow.”

She paused, searching for the right words. “I guess I just want to understand where I come from. If she believed in things others couldn’t see, maybe there’s a reason I’m starting to notice those things too.”

David’s brows knit in concern, but he nodded, sensing the seriousness in her voice. “Well, if there’s anything you want to talk about or anything you need, you know we’re here for you. Always.”

The room quieted, the unspoken mysteries of their family history hanging heavier than ever in the air.

Mira offered her father a small, grateful smile. “Thanks, Dad. I know you’d do anything to help me.”

David’s stern features softened, and he squeezed her hand in reassurance. “Always, sweetheart.”

After a moment, the conversation shifted. David turned his attention to Ashen, his protective instincts resurfacing. “So, Ashen, what are your intentions with my daughter?”

Ashen met David’s gaze with steady confidence, his voice calm and sincere. “Sir, I just want Mira to be happy. She’s a good person—she always tries to help others, no matter what it costs her. I just want to be the person who supports her and helps her in return. That’s all I want.”

David studied Ashen for a long moment, searching for any hint of insincerity. Finding none, he gave a single approving nod, though his eyes still held a trace of fatherly warning.

Linda smiled at the exchange, and the room’s atmosphere lightened, if only a little. For now, Mira’s family seemed content to trust Ashen—at least until he proved otherwise.

Dinner passed in a warm, comforting blur, the table filled with the aroma of Linda’s homemade spaghetti and meatballs, garlic bread, and a fresh tossed salad. Laughter and stories bounced around the table, the earlier tension eased as everyone enjoyed the meal and the comfort of family.

As the plates were cleared and her father began to share a story about a long day at work, Mira interrupted gently, her voice carrying a quiet urgency. “Dad… about Grandma’s old house. Do you still have the key? Would it be okay if I went out there to look around?”

David paused, fork halfway to his mouth, clearly caught off guard. He hesitated, looking uncertain. “Sweetheart, that house hasn’t been touched in years. I’m not sure if it’s safe, and I don’t know what you’re hoping to find.”

Mira pouted a little, her eyes pleading. “Please, Dad? I just want to see it for myself. It might help me feel closer to her. I promise I’ll be careful.”

The room fell quiet as David studied her face, seeing the determination—and the sadness—in her eyes. After a moment, he sighed and relented. “All right. Just be careful. The key should be in my desk drawer, top right. And here—let me write down the directions for you. It’s a bit tricky to find.”

He jotted down the address and a rough map on a slip of paper, then slid it across the table to Mira. She took it with a grateful smile, hope bubbling in her chest that answers about her grandmother—and herself—might finally be within reach.