Lord Theodore's Favorite Ritual
Chapter 133: Midnight Whispers.

Chapter 133: Midnight Whispers.

Midnight.

Guest bedroom, Theodore mansion.

Critic Arley, Critic-Ishire.

***************

In a dimly lit bedroom in the Theodore mansion, Helena sat huddled beneath a threadbare blanket, her thoughts drifting back to a time when life was filled with adventure and wonder.

Memories flood her mind, recalling the days of her youth when she and her mother traversed the vast empire, of Critic-Ishire, each journey had been a tapestry woven with new experiences and cherished moments.

She remembered the thrill of exploring grand cities and quaint villages, of tasting exotic cuisines and hearing tales of distant lands.

Despite the constant shadow of an unknown pursuer looming over them, one her mother told her about, her mother’s unwavering courage and reassuring presence shielded her from fear.

Yet, even amidst the excitement of their travels, her mother’s solemn warnings about the mysterious figure remained a haunting chorus.

As she reminisced, a pang of longing gripped her heart, for her mother was no longer by her side.

The ache of her absence is compounded by the harsh reality of her current existence, homeless and reliant on the charity of a friend, she wished she could have stayed back at the bungalow but that was staying in your comfort zone and her mother said never to do that.

Despite the passage of years, the ghost of their pursuer still lingered, casting a shadow over her every step.

She wondered what became of her mother’s warnings, of the faceless threat that once haunted their every move.

She knew whoever it was might very much exist still and it was either she kept running or become stronger, strong enough to fight them off.

So, amidst the uncertainty and hardship, one thing remained clear, the enduring bond between mother and daughter, a beacon of strength that sustains her through the darkest of nights.

As she gazed out of the window and up at the starlit sky, a sense of bittersweet nostalgia washed over her, mingling with the reality of her present circumstances.

What would lord Theodore say?

Would she let Conan find out she is here?

In the silence of the night, she whispered a silent prayer for her mother, hoping that somewhere beyond the veil of darkness, their souls may find solace in the memories they shared and the love that transcends time and space.

And somewhere, irrational on her part wishes Conan to find her.

*

* *

*

Night.

Everywhere, Conan’s Bungalow.

Critic Arley, Critic-Ishire.

***************

Conan’s footsteps quickened with anticipation after he climbed out of his carriage as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm, orange glow over the quiet Critic Arley streets.

With a sense of longing mingled with excitement, he approached his quaint bungalow, a haven nestled among lush greenery.

Tonight, he yearned for more than the new sense of comfort his home had started to bring; he craved a deep conversation with his enigmatic female roommate, Helena.

He unlocked the front door with a smile and he was almost humming, but as he stepped inside, Conan was met with silence, save for the faint scent of burned candle.

He kicked off his shoes, and without care he let them tumble haphazardly by the entrance, and then he inhaled deeply, hoping to catch a trace of Helena’s familiar scent, she mostly smelled like lavender and heat. But the air held only emptiness, tinged with a lingering memory of her presence.

He made his way through their cosy living room, Conan’s heart began to sink as he noticed the absence of Helena’s belongings, her favourite books that she never really read and were neatly arranged on the shelf were now conspicuously vacant.

Panic stirred within him as he scanned the room for any sign of her, but all he found was an eerie stillness, punctuated only by the ticking of the antique clock on the wall.

She wasn’t taken by force because then her bag would be here.

Frustration gnawed at him as he combed through every room, hoping to uncover a clue to Helena’s sudden departure.

Had she left in haste?

Was she in trouble?

Questions swirled in his mind, each one amplifying his sense of unease.

Desperation drove Conan outside, where the night enveloped him in a cool embrace.

He rushed out of the house and wandered the dimly lit streets, calling out Helena’s name into the darkness.

"Helena?!"

"Helena, where are you?" but his voice echoed back to him, unanswered.

With each passing hour, his resolve waned, replaced by a deepening sorrow he didn’t know he would ever feel at the thought of Helena’s absence.

As dawn painted the sky with hues of pink and gold, Conan returned to his bungalow, exhausted and defeated.

He collapsed onto the couch, closed his eyes, enveloped in a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. He was a knight so staying all night searching wasn’t much of a fit but his mind weighed more than his body.

Helena might have vanished without a word, but to Conan, her essence lingered in every corner of their shared space, a bittersweet reminder of the bond they almost shared.

He thought about their conversation yesterday and nothing indicated her intention to leave.

And so, with a heavy heart and a lingering sense of longing, Conan drifted into a restless sleep, haunted by the memories of the woman who had quietly healed his mother and vanished into the night, leaving behind only her scent and the echo of her presence.

*

* *

*

Midnight.

Bedroom, Theodore Mansion.

Critic Arley, Critic-Ishire.

******************

Lydia and Theodore nestled in the plush comfort of their bed as the night draped its gentle embrace over the world outside.

The soft glow of moonlight filtered through billowing curtains, casting a mesmerizing dance of shadows across the room.

Outside, the whispers of spring stirred the air, as it carried a promise of new beginnings, one which the Muckraker believes has been tainted for some houses.

The lord after dinner and loving his wife tucked into bed, lying side by side, their bodies intertwined, one their white linen bedspread their hair laid spread highlighting their contrast.

Theodore’s locks, shimmering like molten gold in the dim light, framed his chiselled features with an air of elegance.

While Lydia’s ebony tresses cascaded like a waterfall of darkness, a stark contrast to the warmth of his embrace.

Their conversation after lovemaking had woven into shared dreams and whispered secrets, each word a thread binding them closer together.

"I have something to tell you" Lydia whispered, her warm breath on his chest.

Theodore grumbled. "Do tell, Gooseberry"

"Helena is in the mansion," she said after a beat of silence.

"You should not be cryptic with me" Theodore advised because he felt she was holding back some more information.

Lydia sighed. "Helena ran away from Conan and is here in one of our bedrooms, I let her stay" she explained.

"Of course, you will let her stay, she is your friend but is this a secret of some sort? What did she do to Conan?"

She glared at his chin as she replied. "I am sure she did no harm to him, she just needs a few days away"

"Lydia, you are too trusting, this world doesn’t work like that, I believe she did something to my knight" Theodore insisted.

"Do not say anything to Conan" she spoke to him with gravity in her tone.

"For a few days, yes" he agreed briskly

Lydia shifted in his arms making him adjust too.

"You have something more to say," he said a moment later.

She raised a brow though he couldn’t see it, he felt the movements on his chest as she asked. "How do you figure?"

"You are poking my chest and no longer drawing invisible lines" he pointed out.

She smiled. "That is not a reliable give"

"What is it you are nervous to say?" he countered.

"Helena wants to work on the mansion," she said vaguely.

He raised an elegant brow. "Pardon?"

She sighed. "The bloomed Cotton tree, she wishes to use it for her business"

"The cotton?" he asked for clarification.

She replied. "Yes, what do you say?"

He drew her closer into his arms. "As long as it doesn’t disturb my peace, I am fine with it"

"Thank you, it shall not be a hassle" she promised before dropping a kiss on his chest, he returned it with a kiss on her head.

They continued to discuss the events of the day, relishing in the mundane yet intimate moments that had unfolded in the hours before twilight.

Plans for the morrow had been laid out with meticulous care, each decision a show of their unwavering commitment to one another.

As they lay entwined beneath the covers, a gentle breeze drifted through the open window, carrying with it the sweet scent of blossoms in bloom.

In the warmth of their cocooned sanctuary, time seemed to stand still, each passing moment a testament to the depth of their connection.

Their bodies were intertwined in an intimate embrace.

As the night unfurled its velvet cloak around them, the couple surrendered to the embrace of slumber, their hearts entwined like the tendrils of ivy that adorned the walls of their mansion.

In the stillness of the night, they found solace in the knowledge that their love would endure, like the eternal dance of the seasons, ever-changing yet steadfast in its beauty.

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