Lord Theodore's Favorite Ritual
Chapter 141: Dark Intruders.

Chapter 141: Dark Intruders.

Evening

Borders.

Critic Arley, Critic-Ishire.

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As the evening sun began to dip below the horizon, casting a golden hue over the border of the Critic Arley, two figures emerged into the dimly lit clearing.

There was Theodore a powerful man, with his regal stature evident in the way he carried himself, his long locks of gold hair cascading down his back as it was no longer in the confines of a rubber band.

The other, Conan, a knight, his dark blond hair tousled by the gentle breeze that swept through the area.

"I do not think they should be any-"

"Shut up Conan, listen" Theodore pointed out, inviting Conan to put his ears in the ground.

The two have been parading around this side of the city borders after a report from a guard of suspicious movements.

Conan scoffed. "I hear serenity, I thought you should be missing your wife now, let us-"

Their supposed peace was immediately shattered by the sudden appearance of five cloaked figures, their silhouettes ominous against the fading light.

Theodore and Conan exchanged wary glances, their hands instinctively reaching for the hilts of their swords as the figures closed in on them.

"I was right all along" Theodore whispered as he turned his head to the sky.

With a swift motion, Theodore drew his gleaming blade from its scabbard, the metal catching the last rays of sunlight, reminding it of Lydia.

"Not yet, questions first remember" Conan mumbled.

Conan followed suit, his sword a sharp contrast against the encroaching darkness. He then drew in a breath.

The figures moved in sync.

The air crackled with tension as the two men squared off against their mysterious assailants. All five of them.

Conan cleared his throat. "What do you want?"

"Fight Conan, look at their stance i-" sudden movements interrupted his retort.

The figures moved with an otherworldly grace, their movements fluid and unpredictable.

Conan and Theodore had to stop the attacks with their swords before using their force to pushed back the two figures that had rushed to them.

"They are fucking witches, Theo" Conan panicked.

"Kind of you to inform me" Theodore countered as he drew in sharp breaths.

They are five of them but Theodore was never one to back out of ending nuisance.

The fight began.

Without much thoughts Theodore took on three of the figures as they all rushed after him and Conan had to divert two of them.

Theodore slashed his sword across the abdomen of the one that reached him first, shocked, he rushed back grabbing his bleeding abdomen.

The other two were resilient. They rushed unto Theodore with a battery cry. Their swords came clashing with Theodore’s, one swung an angry swing of his sword and it was only with a thin thread that Theodore avoided the attack making him lose a few buttons from his clothe.

"You could let me see your faces before I end you" Conan invited but they only grunted.

Conan fought the two figures who were shorter than he is with ease and they were still silent no matter what questions he asked.

It soon became more apparent that they wielded not only swords but also dark magic, the tendrils of power snaking through the air like serpents.

Theodore and Conan fought with all the skill and determination they possessed, their swords clashing against those of their adversaries in a symphony of metal on metal. Identity unknown.

The wind picked up, whipping through the clearing with increasing ferocity, adding an extra challenge to their already perilous battle.

"Fuck" Theodore gasped when he felt a slight nick on his chin.

That was close, he mused.

Despite the odds stacked against them, the duke and the knight refused to yield.

With each strike and parry, they pushed themselves to their limits, their resolve unshaken by the darkness of this figures and energy that was threatening to engulf them.

As the last vestiges of daylight faded from the sky, Conan and Theodore finally emerged victorious, their blades stained with the blood of their vanquished foes.

The last one had been harder to end, Theodore had hoped he could take that one for questioning but he was too aggressive.

Breathing heavily, they stood side by side, their eyes scanning the shadows for any sign of further danger.

"Fuck!" Conan mumbled.

In the eerie silence that followed, the only sound was the howling of the wind, a haunting reminder of the perilous night they had just endured.

With a nod of mutual respect, the friends turned and made their way back to the safety of the city.

To his wife.

And to his homely bungalow that lost touch.

Theodore and Conan’s bond had forged even stronger by the trials they had faced together.

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Theodore Mansion.

Critic Arley, Critic-Ishire.

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

As the evening shadows stretched across the quiet apartment, Helena found herself lost in thought, her mind swirling with conflicting emotions.

Tomorrow marked the birthday of her former roommate, saviour and enemy?, she sighed, he was such a kind and considerate soul who had been a steadfast presence in her life during their time together.

She couldn’t think him her enemy.

Though they had once been confused enemies she could say they had become close friends, before their paths had diverged after her over indulgence, and now she found herself avoiding Conan altogether, her heart was burdened by unspoken words and unresolved feelings.

Yet, despite the distance that now lay between them, one she had created by running away and hiding, she couldn’t shake the desire to do something special for him on his birthday.

As she sat on the chair in her bedroom she is bathed in the soft glow of candlelight, Helena pondered her options, her brow furrowed in concentration.

She travelled through memories of their time together, searching for inspiration amidst the tangled web of emotions that threatened to engulf her.

A flicker of warmth stirred within her as she recalled the countless moments of laughter and camaraderie they had shared, the late-night conversations and impromptu adventures that had forged a bond between them. His cookings.

Despite the pain of their recent estrangement, there was still a flicker of affection lingering in the depths of her heart. He hated witches and she had shown him her true self.

With a determined sigh, Helena pushed aside her doubts and fears, resolving to set aside her pride and reach out to Conan in a gesture of goodwill and not because she missed him.

But what could she do to convey how well she wished him with walls she wished she had carefully constructed around her heart without conveying the depth of her feelings without betraying the depth of her feeling?

She had gotten him a comb earlier a bad idea but she knew she needed an alibi is Lydia noticed her absence in the marketplace and she had. But she couldn’t gift a comb to Conan.

Suddenly, inspiration struck like a bolt of lightning, illuminating her mind with a clarity she had not felt in weeks.

Rising from her seat, she crossed the room to her cluttered desk, her fingers trembling as she retrieved a battered old journal from the depths of a dusty drawer.

As she flipped through the pages, her heart swelling with nostalgia, Helena’s lips curved into a bittersweet smile.

Here, within the worn and weathered pages of this journal, lay the key to unlocking the memories they had shared, the laughter and tears, the hopes and dreams that had once bound them together as friends.

With trembling hands, Helena began to write, pouring her heart and soul onto the blank pages with a fervor that bordered on desperation.

She chronicled their adventures, their inside jokes, their shared dreams for the future, each word a testament to the bond that still lingered between them, despite the distance that now separated them. One of her making.

As the hours slipped away and the night deepened into darkness, Helena’s pen danced across the pages, weaving a lines of love and longing that spoke volumes more than mere words ever could.

And as she laid down her pen at last, exhaustion tugging at her weary limbs, she knew with a certainty that tomorrow would mark not only Conan’s birthday but also the beginning of a new Chapter in their tumultuous journey together.

But as she slept away, a part of her mind knew she wouldn’t give him the pages.

Ever.

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The newsletter.

A WITCH IN SIR CONAN’S HOUSE.

This might come to the ton as a shock, Sir Conan has lived alone in his bungalow for years now, he is neither married nor has he recently acquired maids.

But we have solid eye witness as a witch was seen performing witchery on the visitors of the said knight.

If the ton disbelief of this then why would a woman be in the Sir Conan’s house If he was not married and never had sisters?

A witch lives amongst us and we shall uncover her soon.

BURNING PROPERTIES IN CRITIC ARLEY.

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