Chapter 237: The Blood Ritual
A group of knights rode in the dark knight. They had a cold look on their face but the whispers did not leave their eyes. The chief rode on a dark horse with them. His eyes staring at the distance hoping the rumors would die once the girl would return home.
By the time they reached the clearing, the first light of dawn crept across the horizon, casting a cold grey hue over the trees. The captain of the knights pulled his horse to a halt. his eyes wide as he surveyed the scene.
"By the gods..."
His eyes widened with shock when he found corpses littered the ground. their armor bearing the unmistakable crest of House Clondoire. They have twisted swords in their body and shattered helms. their blood soaked deep into the earth. Some of the bodies were mangled, torn apart with unnatural precision. Others bore no wounds at all, their expressions frozen in horror.
"None of them are witches," one knight murmured after inspecting a few of the fallen. "They’re all Clondoire knights and local thugs who work for money."
other knights dismounted and stalked forward, their boots crunching over the debris of broken spears and fallen bodies. The air smelled of blood and fire ash and something wrong. Then came the sound of a faint whimper.
They rushed toward it, swords drawn in instinct more than reason.
Huddled near a cluster of stones were a handful of girls, pale and unconscious, their chests rising faintly with breath. Some had dried blood on their robes, but none seemed injured. Their skin was cold and almost translucent. It was as if something had drained the life from them without breaking their flesh.
"They’re alive," said one of the knights kneeling to check pulses. "But barely. What kind of sorcery is this?"