Back again

Arthur struggles against the restrictive spell, his eyes watering as he watches Theodore drag the unconscious Savúl face down towards a familiar but off-looking house. As they near it, Arthur takes in the odd shapes and missing planks of the house's exterior, along with the overgrown weeds and run-down bees' nests that fill the garden. The air is thick with the moist, putrid scent of mold and the unexpected fragrance of flowers.

Noticing the shattered glass at the entrance, Arthur urges Theodore. "At least pick her up from the ground."

Theodore grunts and responds with a string of ancient curses, before hoisting Savúl onto his shoulder and kicking the door open, the broken glass crunching beneath his feet on his way. As they enter, the musty smell of old wood and alcohol fills their nostrils. They find themselves in a cozy but rundown home, with old bottles lining the windowsills and cobwebs stretching across the corners of the ceiling. The furniture looks old and worn, and the walls are peeling in places.

Arthur can't help but feel uneasy as he looks around the dimly lit room. He notices a bookshelf in the corner, filled with ancient-looking tomes and trinkets. In the center of the room, there is a table with a map laid out on it, with strange symbols and markings that Arthur can't decipher.

Theodore lays Savúl and Arthur down on a worn-out sofa and begins rummaging through a wooden chest in the corner of the room. Arthur takes a closer look at the map, trying to make sense of it. Suddenly, he hears a creaking sound and turns around to see the door they entered through slowly closing on its own.

"Go ahead, try tae open it. Ah doubt ye can," Theodore says with a thicker accent and a lazy tone.

Arthur struggles harder against the spell's effects. "Release me," he grunts harshly. Bringing Theodore's attention from the chest to him, Theodore snaps his fingers, and suddenly it feels a lot easier to breathe for Arthur. 

"So, let's talk then, Arthy. Whit happened? Where huv ye been, and why the bloody hell didnae ye say anything tae me?" Theodore asks in his thick accent, a mix of anger and concern.

"I barely know who you are. Maybe you can explain yourself? Why do I have memories of you when I've never met you before in my life? Did you use some sort of voodoo magic on me?" Arthur asks, brushing off his clothes as he stands up from the floor, his voice tinged with suspicion and confusion.

Theodore stops rummaging in the chest, turning over to Arthur with a look of "The audacity of this fool." He stops kneeling next to the chest, his accent tinged with disbelief and anger. "Are ye fuckin' serious? Ye barely ken who ah am?" he says, his face growing increasingly angry.

As Theodore walks towards Arthur, something dawns on him, and he abruptly stops in his tracks. He stares into Arthur's eyes, and suddenly his own eyes snap open wider than they have in months. With a look of realization on his face, he rushes over to the bookshelves and begins throwing trinkets and doodads to the floor in a fit of frantic searching.

"What are you looking for?" Arthur inquires suspiciously.

Theodore remains silent as he rifles through the bookshelf, eventually pulling out a thick tome. He blows the dust off its cover and opens it, revealing the title: "Effects and Treatments of Mind Control." Arthur watches him with growing apprehension, wondering what Theodore could need such a book for.

After royally flipping through several pages, he steps closer to Arthur, who takes a cautious step backward.

Theodore's voice turns menacing as he warns Arthur, "Dinnae ye dare move a muscle, or I'll unleash such a fury upon ye that the depths o' the underworld will seem like a merciful escape," As he approaches Arthur, his hand rises up, ready to cast a spell.

Arthur freezes in his tracks, considering what he's done before, he doesn't doubt it. So instead, he stops. Waiting for Theodore to do what he's gotta do.

Theodore gently places his right hand on Arthur's forehead, and a soft glow emanates from his palm. He leans in and squints his eyes, studying Arthur's expression for a few seconds. Theodore's expression turns grave, and he furrows his brows, deep in thought. He mutters something in an ancient language, his voice laced with frustration.

After a pause, Theodore removes his hand from Arthur's forehead and takes a step back. He looks at Arthur with a solemn expression, as if he is weighing his options carefully. Theodore mutters once again in the same ancient language, his tone more agitated this time.

"Well Arthur, we have two choices. We can either leave ye in this state or ah can perform the magic necessary to help ye regain yer memories." Theodore says wistfully, his eyes glistening with a mix of hope and worry.

Arthur feels a strange sensation in his gut as he asks "But..?"

"The catch, lad, is that the process could have some unforeseen side effects. Yer heid could end up all jangled up and ye may experience a few drawbacks along the way." Theodore continues, his voice laced with agitation and frustration.

Arthur looks at him, his eyes wide with apprehension "What kind of drawbacks?"

"The kind that Ah cannae predict, Arthy. Ah may be the best mage in the whole bloody east, but even ah cannae foresee the outcome of this magic. All ah can do is hope for the best and prepare for the worst." Theodore replies, his expression one of concern and uncertainty.