The feast at Gorston’s gradually transitioned into the stage of "universal brotherhood through alcohol." While the men were busy pouring drinks down their throats, Aya was interrogating the local mothers with terrifying intensity, fishing for parenting secrets and food recipes. Alastor, meanwhile, acted as a living bartender—pouring for everyone in sight while managing to stay sober as a judge. By the end of the evening, he looked like the only sane person in a madhouse.

  We declined to stay the night. Half-asleep, I rode in the saddle, swaying like a sack of grain. Through my daze, the voices of Yara and Alastor drifted over:

  — "Such a waste of time... They invite us over, and in the end, they just beg to rent our horses. Boring."

  — "Not quite," Aya countered. "At least now I know how to properly cook porridge."

  At some point, I felt strong arms lift me from the horse and gently lay me on a soft bed. I remembered nothing after that.

  A week passed. Gorston dropped by for a return visit with his wife. This time there were no snarls; everything went civilly and almost human-like. Three days later, I woke up to a scent that didn't just make me get up—it made me practically "fly" to the kitchen.

  Pancakes. Real, golden pancakes, smelling of butter and comfort.

  — "Do you like them?" Aya turned from the stove, noticing my expression.

  — "Yes... very much. Thank you."

  At that moment, a familiar silhouette flickered past the window. Walking up the path, leisurely inspecting the surroundings, was Mira. She was wearing a light blue dress and a wide-brimmed straw hat—a boater, I think. She looked like an ordinary traveler, provided you didn't know the power hidden beneath that sundress.

  I dashed outside and hugged her. — "You’re back!"

  I immediately noticed a fresh scar on her shoulder and, without waiting for an explanation, pressed my palm to it. A flash of green mana—and the skin was pristine again. Mira only smiled warmly:

  — "It’s nice here. Quiet."

  I led her into the house. Mira sat in the kitchen and tried the pancakes. Her eyes widened in surprise. — "Incredible... Did you make these yourself?"

  — "Her name is Aya," I introduced the demoness.

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  — "Aya?" Mira looked at the Demon of War with genuine respect. "Remarkable... I haven't eaten anything this delicious in an eternity."

  Just then, Alastor and the children burst in from outside. — "Mama! Papa! We’re back!"

  — "...And who are they?"

  Mira’s eyes grew as large as saucers. She slowly turned her gaze toward me: — "'Mama'? 'Papa'? Zen, is there something I don't know? So what am I then? The Aunt?"

  — "WHAT DO YOU MEAN, AUNT?!" I protested. "Mira, it’s... a long story. She’s a relative of mine," I told the children.

  Mira wrapped an arm around me and pulled me close, eyeing Erol and Yara. — "And who are you, little vampires?"

  The children froze. How had she sniffed them out in a second?

  — "Don't worry," Mira walked up to Yara and picked up her clay toy. "Aha, I recognize the hand of a master... Good work."

  She returned the toy and looked at me seriously: — "Yes, Zenhald... The world around you changes beyond recognition. We need to talk. Kids, go out and play for a bit."

  We sat at the table. Mira had just opened her mouth to begin, but suddenly she whipped a water sphere at the window.

  SPLASH!

  From outside came a disappointed: "Aw, man! How did she see us?!"

  — "I said—go play," Mira repeated.

  — "I encountered a couple more Fear Demons, Zenhald," she continued in a lower voice. "Nothing serious yet; I was just checking the situation. Decided to drop in and see how you were... I see you're doing more than well."

  Mira stayed the night. The next day, I found her in the yard—she was hanging laundry on the line. I walked up and silently began to help. Mira playfully nudged my shoulder with her fist.

  — "Have you shown them... my training method?"

  I smiled, remembering old cycles. — "No, haven't had the chance yet."

  — "Then let’s go. Time for a masterclass."

  We called the children over. Mira stood before them, squaring her shoulders. — "Now, I will show you a legendary training method, personally invented by me! It’s called: 'FLIP, FIND, STRIKE!'"

  She pulled a book on combat stances from under her dress and flipped it open to a random page. — "RIGHT! Flipping... Aha! STANCE OF THE WATER FLOW!"

  In that same second, Mira dropped into a perfect pose and... drenched all the children with a massive torrent of water out of nowhere.

  — "Ha-ha-ha! Too slow!" She was already flipping the page. "NEXT! STANCE OF THE FLAMING LION!"

  The performance lasted for hours. The entire yard was flooded with water, sand, and children's laughter. Later, Mira sat beside me on the porch, catching her breath.

  — "Do you remember, Zen? These are my super-methods..."

  She looked at me with a hidden glimmer of hope. — "You are the Teacher, and I am the Super-Teacher. Remember?"

  I smiled, but a single, almost unnoticeable tear betrayed me and rolled down my cheek. Something throbbed painfully inside, but the memory remained locked away.

  — "I'm sorry, Mira... I don't remember."

  I rested my head on her shoulder. She pressed her cheek against the crown of my head, and we sat for a long time, watching the sunset.

  — "It’s alright," she whispered. "One day, I will lift this curse from you. Whatever the cost."

  And so, I fell asleep to the rustle of her voice.

  In the morning, we saw her off. Mira was heading back into the unknown, promising to return when the time was right. That familiar, hollow feeling returned to my chest...

  Erol tugged at my sleeve. — "Don't worry, Greg. She’ll be back. She promised, didn't she?"

  — "Yeah..." I said, staring down the empty road. "She’ll be back."