The Bloom Mansion was quiet—too quiet. The kind of silence that weighed heavy in the air. Greta stood in her private chamber, hunched over an old, dusty book resting on a stone pedestal. Candlelight flickered along the walls, casting a golden glow on her silver hair and the lined concentration on her face.
Then—
whoosh.
A ripple in the air. Barely a sound, but her instincts caught it.
She didn't even turn—her hands snapped up, and a fiery wave burst from her palms, surging toward the presence behind her.
The flames passed right through Temmy.
She stood there, untouched, arms folded, wearing a smug look like it was stitched into her skin. "That's one way to welcome a guest."
Greta exhaled slowly, shaking her head. "You again…" She turned back to her book, flipping the pages with practiced urgency. "I don't have time for your theatrics, child. My daughter is missing. I'd prefer some peace so I can focus."
Temmy didn't budge. "That's exactly why I'm here."
Greta paused.
