Death Defying Book: The Devil Watches

Darius finally managed to speak, his voice low yet curious. "So why is my— err…" His words faltered as Willen gave him a strange look but, as before, remained silent, staring at the flickering flames instead.

Darius chuckled nervously, masking his slip. "Why is Sir Cedric requesting religious aid, specifically?" he asked, directing his gaze toward Kael.

Kael seemed unbothered by the question and leaned forward to share. "Rumors, mostly—about unholy beings. Swords and spears might not do much against such creatures. Holy weapons, though? That's another matter."

Darius nodded, his thoughts turning inward. He pondered the danger his father might be facing and tried convincing himself, for the umpteenth time, that Cedric would pull through unscathed.

He always did!

'I pray you're safe, Father,' Darius thought, his silent plea interrupted by the rhythmic sound of approaching footsteps.

A sweet aroma wafted into the room, teasing his senses and drawing his attention.

Turning, his eyes landed on a red-haired serving girl with a high ponytail.

His brows furrowed slightly. 'Where's Elaina?'

'Maybe I teased her too much,' he mused, a small smile curling at his lips.

The red-haired girl smirked as she placed the dishes on the table.

Darius couldn't help but entertain a mischievous thought. 'Did Elaina send this one in her stead? Maybe she told her about what happened earlier and maybe she's shy to meet me again? Seems plausible.'

Deciding not to dwell on it further, he grinned and said, "Well, let the feast begin." He reached for a piece of mutton in his stew but was interrupted by a black-gloved hand gently flicking his wrist.

"Let's pray first," Kael said, his voice calm but firm. "I hope it's not too much to ask."

Willen snorted, already halfway into his meal. With a quick glance at Darius, he muttered, "Thank you for the food, friend," before returning to his stew.

Darius nodded, his appetite momentarily on hold.

Kael clasped his hands together and began muttering a prayer. Not wanting to offend, Darius did the same, stealing glances at Willen, who gave them both an odd look but said nothing.

When Kael finally finished, he smiled. "Thank you."

"It's no trouble," Darius replied, offering a polite smile.

With the formalities done, Darius picked up his spoon, taking a bite of the mutton. The flavors erupted in his mouth—a perfect blend of spices and salt, the tender meat practically melting on his tongue. He closed his eyes, savoring every moment.

'This is incredible,' he thought, relishing the warmth and comfort it brought.

Taking a sip of wine, the richness of the drink perfectly complemented the stew. A genuine smile spread across his face.

But just as he settled into the meal, a sudden thought crept into his mind, breaking his moment of joy. Despite the warmth of the Winking Stag and the lively chatter around him, a chill ran down his spine.

Willen noticed the change in his expression. "What's wrong, lover boy? Choking on your mutton already?" he teased, grinning.

Darius forced a weak smile. "I'm not that clumsy, you know."

"You looked worried—almost scared—for a moment," Kael observed, his tone serious.

"Well," Darius began, his voice tinged with reluctance, "I've got some pressing matters to attend to. As much as I'd hate to leave, I must." He rose from his seat.

"At least finish your food," Willen said, swallowing another mouthful. "Show some respect for it."

"Unfortunately, I'll have to decline."

Willen put down his fork, fixing Darius with a steady gaze. "No matter what it is, know that you've found yourself some friends—especially me—I'll always be here, in this corner." His tone carried unexpected sincerity.

Kael nodded. "He's right. You're a good man, Darius. I'd gladly lend a hand if needed."

Darius managed a genuine smile, nodding in gratitude. Without another word, he strode toward the door.

---

The Icy Streets

The moment he opened the door, the cold wind howled, carrying snowflakes that stung his skin.

"Tsk… the most annoying part of living in Kragnir," he muttered, exhaling a puff of white breath as he quickened his pace.

"Sheesh," he shivered, the chill biting through his clothes with each gust.

"Damn it!" he cursed, breaking into a full sprint.

In less than six minutes, he arrived at Lord Thorne's manor, its towering double doors looming before him. He hesitated, hand raised to knock.

'It might be open…' he thought, testing the handle.

Creak~

The door gave way, and Darius stepped inside half-expecting to see his mother inside, ready to berate perhaps.

Grateful for the warmth radiating from the hearth, he inhaled a breath of warm air, the familiar scent of burnt wood filled his nose, evoking a sense of home.

But the room was empty.

Brows furrowing, he made his way toward the hallway. Still, no one.

His pace quickened as he climbed the stairs. Voices—low and urgent—filtered through the air. His heart clenched as he approached the door to his mother's room.

He hesitated, then pushed it open.

The sight before him stole his breath—a crowd of people surrounding the bed, their hushed whispers failing to mask the gravity of the scene.

His heart sank. 'What in the name of the gods happened?!'