The Reaper's Wicked Obsession

"I’m aware of that dreadful disease, and being the skillful skin weaver you are, you were the reason the sickness stopped."

"What if I told you it wasn’t entirely my doing?" Orric stepped closer, like the next thing he was about to say was discreet.

"There I was, in the midst of death and decay, the bodies all lined up as disease ravaged us. Only a few Skin weavers were immune, and the rest of the population met a fate worse than death." He reminisced as that dreadful day unfolded before his eyes.

It was almost as if he was teleported back in time. Chills gripped him, and goosebumps rose on his skin.

"Some say it was the demoness of the ocean getting back at us for polluting the waters, or the gods had smitten us with their wrath. Everything was lost, and everyone was dying. The Grim Isle, a haven for outlaws to seek peace, was coming to an end."

Logi gulped as he listened all through; he knew the disease was bad, but he didn’t know it was a point of near extinction.

The news only spread to the outlaw society and there was no aid to come due to how isolated they were and they only depended on the skin weavers living there.

"And when we thought all hope was lost, she came," Orric said with a sparkle in his eyes, like his mind couldn’t apprehend the spectacle he encountered.

"Arising from the mist that slowly took over the place, she came forth. I can still hear her heels clicking against the pavement, dirtied with mud and blood. But such filth didn’t affect her stunning presence. The way her hips swayed from her graceful walk."

Logi grimaced. Rather than stunned with marvel, Orric sounded like he was reliving a wet dream.

"Her face, I deeply wished I could have seen, was covered with a wide-brim hat atop her head with a black veil over it. She came straight up to me and gave me a strange liquid in a bottle. I used it and miraculously, without the weaves, they were healed!"

"And you saw all this?" Logi asked just to be sure it wasn’t a dream being told.

"Yes! What chills me to this day is that she said by appearing to me as a myth, I’ll one day lead to what she wants by telling a particular person about her—" Orric blinked and suddenly backed away.

"I know that look, you don’t think she meant this, do you? That you would one day tell me about her? Come on, Orric. Knowing you, you have shared this with many."

He shook his head. "Never. You’re the first," he confessed. "I was frightened I would be called mad."

Logi’s smile faded.

"Merciful gods and goddesses!" he hurried away. "It’s coming to pass!"

"Orric!"

But he didn’t stop until he faded into the dark.

"Has he gone nuts?"

~♧~

Kraven kept his eyes on Isadora, It was yet another day without her beautiful amber on him, the feel of her light touch against his skin, and the sound of her voice.

It was torturous, and every day he hoped to find her awake and smile at him like the sunlight.

He dreamed of it too, many times where she would stand by that window, as the wind would stroke her hair. But when he reached to hold her in his arms she would fade away.

A pain he never thought he could feel tightened against his chest each time that scene happened. He would wake up restless and pace the room multiple times.

He was never one to believe in miracles, but he prayed for one. The gods had always damned him yet he asked for their mercy.

Orric mentioned she had a week left to live. Out of all the skin weavers, he was the only one who brought results and actually did something.

But he refused to believe he would lose her forever. He wouldn’t give up, he would find a way to bring her back.

To imagine this life without her felt like hell. Nothing else matters, not his revenge or rage. She was the only thing that ever gave his twisted life meaning.

She should have run away from him, yet she ran to him without thinking twice; she never gave up on him until her last breath.

She never gave up on her monster. His stubborn little bunny never gave up on him.

"Hold on, love," he said, holding her hand tightly. "Just a little longer. This madman still needs you. I’m selfish, and unfortunately, I can never let you find rest, not without me."

Her hands were colder, and the only thing he could do was hold on until it felt warm again.

Something within him was breaking, yet he didn’t know what.

He didn’t have the heart to exist without her, and if Daudi dared to take her soul, he would take his own life so that he would find her and steal her soul away and bring it back to the land of the living.

Even if it killed him.

"Daudi would smite his wrath if you steal a soul from him," A firm, feminine voice came through. "I don’t think he’ll tolerate yet another soul escaping his clutches."

Kraven’s eyes moved quickly around the room, but there was no one.

"Who’s there?" he asked in a dark tone. "Show yourself!"

There was no response, but he could feel it; they weren’t alone.

Kraven rose to his feet and took his sword, resting beside the bed, ready to cut down whoever dared sneak up on him.

Suddenly, mist poured into the room and shrouded the entire place.

With a strong wave of his blade, the fog dispelled.

However, he was no longer in the room, but in the dark woods.

"Hello, Kraven Val Thrond. How much I have waited for our paths to cross, you made things harder for me." A figure stood before him, wearing a wide-brimmed hat with a veil that covered her face. frёewebnoѵel.ƈo๓

"Who are you?" Kraven demanded.

She let out a sharp cackle. "Who else would I be? I’m the Witch in the flesh," She raised a finger in the air, her nails were sharp and long, painted black.