I_Nana_Firdausi

"I have waited for you in all of my lives, Gooseberry, and, in all of them you had left, please stay in this one" he pleaded, his eyes locked with hers.

"I wish to stay too, My Lord Husband, because you are forever, Theodore " she whispered with tears in her eyes.

A possible sacrifice is sent for him to devour but he will worship and do her however she desires.

Every day, every season, forever, he will repeat the routine of the ritual which is her because she is his favourite ritual.

Lydia Statham, an illegitimate girl living with her noble-born family in a land where her kinds were an unacceptable abomination, forced to live as an employed and never to be seen outside as a part of the Statham family, Lydia craved to be outside but never got to, but only through books and stories from others does she know the outside world, until a day came when a letter had been delivered to their estate ‘they was a bridal pick banquet at one of the biggest mansions in Critic Arley’ that was what Lydia knew as she travels to a banquet that every young lady was invited to but Lydia found herself alone in the enemy’s mansion.

Lord Theodore, a feared outcast, an enemy of the Empire in which he dwells, of royal blood with no surname, a threat to the throne and possibly a lot more than the eyes meet has never wanted a wife, couldn’t fathom the idea of having a bundle of emotions living in the same mansion as he, but after a banquet had been thrown by Conan and half the population of critic arley had been invited.

No one came but her.



*******
"Call me Lordess Theodore" 
"I am Lordess Theodore and I am his favourite ritual" 


Dear Critic.
Do you wish to https://buymeacoffee.com/nanafirdausi

Discourse with me on discord @i_nanafirdausi

Cover photo is mine.

Lord Theodore's Favorite Ritual

Fire crackled as the night deepened, and the anticipation among the group of witches grew palpable.

Each member of the coven maintained a vigilant watch, their eyes darted between the shadows, awaiting the arrival of their royal spy. He had to have news.

Their forms, cloaked in tattered robes adorned with symbols of arcane power, bore an unsettling resemblance to ancient magic practitioners, their presence exuded an aura far more nefarious than any mortal raider.

Atmost, twenty of them sat around, their faces obscured by shadows, they huddled around the flickering flames, their eyes gleaming with an unholy fervor. Each member of this coven possessed a gaze that seemed to pierce the veil between worlds, it revealed glimpses of the darkness that dwelled within them.

The eerie atmosphere thickened with every passing moment, as if the very air was charged with malevolent energy.

In The Dungeon.