The Reaper's Wicked Obsession-Chapter 230: The Second Floor

"But—"

"She’s important to me, just as Marek is to you. She was the reason I kept living in that brothel, she’s the reason I woke up every morning and stood on my feet," Isadora confessed as her eyes turned glassy. "If it weren’t for her, I would have succumbed to death a long time ago."

"I’ll help you," Marek’s words seized their attention. "Under one condition."

"What?" Isadora asked.

"Logi leaves this place," he declared.

"Marek!" Logi growled, stepping closer.

But Marek ignored him and continued. "You’re his Lady, so I’m sure your words will mean something to him."

Isadora gulped. "I can keep him out of the frontlines, but I can’t guarantee he leaves."

"That’s enough. Follow me."

~♧~

The Second Floor

Marek led them to the second floor. Their movement was swift without hindrance thanks to their guide.

They stepped into the desolate corridor, which looked completely different from the other floors.

"This is the place I saw whenever I came here. After this, I don’t know what lies ahead."

"He has a thing for weapons, it seems," Logi said, eyeing everything on display like an antique.

"He calls it his collection," Marek replied.

"Certainly one." Logi eyed the axe with intricate rune markings on the steel. "This is just like yours. It’s done by a craftmaster, isn’t it?"

"Some are... some are not."

"I see," Logi said, sighing. "Something tells me this would have been your hobby, too. I never forgot how much you love steel."

Marek smiled. "I’ll tell you a secret."

"Oh, please do," Logi mused. "We’re finally getting somewhere after weeks. I was beginning to think you’ve gotten all hard shells on me."

Marek chuckled. "I’m a blacksmith. I made my weapon and some here."

Logi blinked, eyes skimming the room. "Great, your master has a sick hobby of keeping his disciples’ creations."

"They’re special creations."

"And why is that?"

"I use soul weaving."

Logi stiffened at his words. "You can soul weave?" It was a foolish question to ask, but he had hoped he hadn’t crossed that line... yet.

"I haven’t tried it on Fae’s yet. I trained using the weapons I created. It doesn’t necessarily mean possessing my blades, but implementing the density of the steel until it has a spirit. It makes the weapon unique and—"

"Forbidden," Logi interrupted.

"I know you’re not happy with these abilities."

"I’m not."

"Forgive me if I’m not like you... chosen and blessed by the gods with gifts. At least I have something now."

"At what cost?" Logi snapped. "There’s a reason it’s forbidden. You know what happens if you soul weave all the time."

"It’s not much of an effect if I haven’t possessed a live being before."

"It doesn’t change anything!"

"You’ve done nothing but question my choices since we met!" Marek seethed to his face. "I won’t tolerate it further. I haven’t seen you for winters, and all you do is question what I did to survive."

"Marek—"

"You were gone, Logi. I had nothing, no one. Did you even bother to look for me after you were freed? You look nothing like a slave now, so why?"

"I should say the same for you," Logi countered.

Marek barked a laugh, and it dialed down to nothing. "I searched for you."

Logi froze at his words.

"I never stopped until two winters ago. But you? I guess you were too busy serving your Lord to even think about what you lost." He walked past him, bumping his shoulder purposely.

"There’s a door, I think we’ll find what we’re looking for there."

Logi cleared his throat, adjusting the collar of his shawl. When he turned, Isadora stared at him with worried eyes.

"What?"

Isadora blinked. "Nothing, just..." She paused and swallowed. "I never looked in the mirror when I threw words at Kraven. But I think it looked like this."

Logi scoffed. He opened his mouth to speak, but Marek called.

"Over here!"

They hastened to the next corridor, where Marek stood in front of a gigantic door.

"I’ve never seen this door before," Marek said sternly. He pressed his palm against it and pushed, the door screeched as it flared open.

(Music Recommendation: Afterlight - By Eternal Eclipse)

They stepped into the hall, which was long and dimly lit. But they could make out the details.

"Dear Almadra," Logi said with trembling eyes.

Marek took a step back, taken over by the shock.

A cold chill dipped low on Isadora’s spine, her lips apart and her eyes wide as she took in the atrocity exhibited.

The stone walls were lined with carved slots—each of them holding a severed head. The faces were pale, some with mouths agape, others with eyes shut.

They were a grim display like trophies, stretching down both sides of the corridor, reaching all the way to the ceiling.

Isadora’s stomach turned, and she clenched it in pain.

"What is this monstrosity?" Logi said.

Marek staggered, walking closer to the walls. "They’re his kills, every single one of them." He released a shaky breath. "He told me when I was ready to carry the Serpent’s name, he would give me my inheritance."

"Inheriting a hall full of heads? I say you have a great master," Logi mocked. "I’ve seen many horrors in my life, but this takes the cake."

"No!"

Isadora’s terror alerted them. They turned and found her standing closer to a head; her hand reached for it, but Logi rushed and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her away.

"No!" Isadora shrieked, tears streaming down her cheeks, and she squirmed in Logi’s hold.

"Don’t do that yourself," he whispered to her. "It’ll scar you."

"Serena," she sobbed, grabbing his arm and pressing her face into it as she cried her heart out.

Logi held her through it all, even as her legs gave out and her knees met the floor.

"I shouldn’t have left her alone," she cried.

"It wasn’t your fault, little one," Logi murmured, holding her tightly. "It wasn’t your fault."