The Reaper's Wicked Obsession-Chapter 186: A Living Nightmare

Isadora gasped awake. She sat up immediately, clutching her hand against her chest, feeling the absurd thud of her heartbeat. Her body quivered from an unfamiliar cold, driving extreme chills down her spine.

’What is this feeling?’ she thought, eyes wide and bewildered.

The sensation seized her so hard that it felt like she was suffocating in her own mind.

She ran a hand through her hair, eyes scanning the empty room.

"Kraven..." she voiced, searching for him, but the room remained empty. ’Where did he go?’

The unfamiliar feeling came again, and before she could think of anything else... she tossed the covers off her body, swaying her legs away from the bed.

A deep hiss fled from her as the ache shot through. For a minute, she couldn’t breathe properly as her body tried to filter the pain; however, her eagerness to find Kraven numbed it.

She limped toward the wardrobe and grabbed her attire, putting it on. She hurried back to bed, falling to her knees, and reaching for her twin daggers under, strapping the holster around her waist.

This was out of pure instinct; that strange feeling was still upon her, and she needed something to make her feel safe.

Isadora opened the door and stepped out of the room. The instant she did, a chill flooded through. She inhaled sharply and leaned against the door, bracing against it for balance.

This wasn’t just a random feeling... it seeped deep in her bones, her insides freezing as if her organs were on a momentary shutdown.

It was... death.

She pushed off the door, flying down the stairs, ignoring the stinging pain between her legs. She stopped at the common room, twirling. It was empty.

Was the festival still ongoing? What hour was it?

Isadora sped out of the inn, stumbling into the streets. Her breathing was uneven as she lifted her head, turning to where the festival was held.

The bonfire had long been quenched, and the only sign that the festival had happened was the lingering decor.

Isadora swallowed a hard lump, lifting her chin. ’It should be dawn now,’ she thought, yet the red moon was still present.

It suddenly didn’t feel like the Heartmoon anymore. The moon was ominous, dipping everything in its red glow.

Her erratic eyes scoured the streets, trying to pinpoint that feeling of death. It took a moment until she traced it to the shed.

A shed without a single Bicorn in sight, almost like it was built for fancy.

Nothing ever made sense since they came to this village, up until now it put up a front of a peaceful place, but now it felt like it never was... like the mask shrouding the area was lifted and suddenly everything became clear.

There was something off about this place, and whatever it was, she had to figure it out.

She had never felt extreme death like this, enough to render her limbs heavy and instill so much terror in her heart.

Kraven had the same aura. But she had stayed with him until now, it was never like that, or could it be?

Isadora stepped through the door. She kept her gaze leveled, the stain on the ground capturing her attention. It was too pronounced because of the snow sheathed on ground, it was crimson.

Blood.

Isadora’s pulse raced as she followed the trail with her eyes, her nerves heightened as they settled on a large pool of blood, then on black boots.

She lifted her gaze and settled it on a massive frame, goosebumps rose from her skin.

"Kraven..." she voiced faintly.

Slowly, he turned to her, his attire stained with blood, some on his cheek.

"You should have stayed in the room..." he said through clenched teeth. freeωebnovēl.c૦m

In a heartbeat, she leveled her gaze to the pitchfork he held and then the body lying on the floor.

She gasped, taking a step back. It was that sweet boy who told her not to hide, he was decapitated. A glimpse of the boy’s head in a far corner—eyes wide—sent a chilling wave of terror crawling down her spine.

"W-W-What did you d-do?"

"Go back to the room, Isadora, now!" Kraven practically growled.

Isadora snapped her teary gaze back at him, and something in them stirred a feeling deep within Kraven.

It was the same way she’d looked at him the first time they met—like she was staring at a nightmare.

She had always looked at him that way, deep down, but she haven’t in a long time.

In the past, he would’ve been thrilled by the atrocity in her eyes. But now... it only irritated him to the core.

"What did you do?" she repeated this time, slower, eyes begging him for something—like she didn’t want to believe.

A vein bulged beneath Kraven’s jaw. "What does it look like? Do I’ve to explain myself?"

A tear slid down Isadora’s face, and the glimpse of it only rattled Kraven more.

"Don’t look at me like that... I’m tempted to rip your eyes from your skull to get rid of it!"

Suddenly, movements stirred behind Isadora.

Kraven reacted instantly, launching the pitchfork with lethal precision. The wind carved into the air, split her cheek.

Isadora turned in that fleeting moment, watching as the pitchfork pierced another denizen’s chest with a sickening crunch, hurling him backward.

His body crashed through the wooden wall, splinters exploding on impact as blood smeared the shattered remains.

Isadora’s chest heaved uncontrollably... When she turned back to Kraven, he had already eaten up the distance between them, clutching her neck and squeezing too hard, his body tensing with rage.

He wanted to rip through her skin, he wanted to tear through that look in her eyes. His body twitched for the need, screamed for it.

But he chose words, silencing the thirst wanting to break apart from him.

"I put up forts in that room to protect you!" he seethed to her face, fury fuming through his eyes.

"P-Protect me?"