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She’s not worried at all,Mercy thought, her stomach churning with unease.But why?
Before she could voice her thoughts, Elyria spoke again, her voice calm and regal. “You fear them. You fear what they may do. But their power is nothing compared to what I am capable of.”
Mercy shivered at the certainty in Elyria’s words. There was no bravado, no arrogance—just pure fact. The fae’s confidence sent a chill down Mercy’s spine as if Elyria had already calculated every outcome and knew exactly how this would end.
Mercy took a deep breath, her hands trembling slightly as she tried to focus. “We need to understand what’s happening, Elyria. You said they wanted your blood for the ritual. Is that why they’re not just trying to escape?”
Elyria’s gaze turned sharp, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly. “Yes. My blood holds the power they seek. Under the blood moon, it is stronger—potent enough to grant them immense power. But they do not understand the cost of wielding such magic.”
Adriana frowned, stepping closer. “The cost? What do you mean?”
Elyria’s lips curled into a faint smile, but there was no warmth in it. “To take fae blood is to take on the curse that comes with it. It is not something that can be controlled, not by a witch or a vampire. They believe they can harness it, but they will only destroy themselves in the process.”
Mercy’s heart clenched. “So… they’re after power they can’t even handle?”
Elyria nodded; her expression cold. “Fools, the both of them. They crave what they do not understand. But that is the way of your kind, is it not? Always reaching for more, always taking.”
The accusation in her tone stung, but Mercy couldn’t argue. The witch and the vampire were a perfect example of that greed—hungry for power they hadn’t earned, power that would only bring destruction.
“But what happens if they succeed?” Mercy asked, her voice barely a whisper. “What happens if they complete the ritual?”
Elyria’s eyes flicked to Mercy, and for the first time, there was a shadow of something close to pity in her gaze. “If they complete the ritual, they will rip apart the fabric of this world. The blood moon’s magic is too volatile, too wild. It cannot be contained by mortal hands. They will destroy themselves—and everything around them.”
Mercy felt the blood drain from her face. The weight of what was at stake hit her like a tidal wave. This wasn’t just about Elyria or the abbey. If the witch and the vampire succeeded, theywould unleash chaos on a scale far beyond anything any of them had ever imagined.
Adriana’s face paled as well, her hand gripping the edge of the table as if steadying herself. “We can’t let that happen,” she said, her voice hoarse. “We need to stop them.”
Elyria’s eyes gleamed, her smile returning sharp and predatory. “You need not worry about that. I will stop them.”
Mercy blinked, taken aback. “How? You were weakened when they captured you. They drained your blood?—”
Elyria’s gaze darkened, and Mercy could see the raw fury simmering beneath the surface. “I am no longer weakened. Their foolishness has only served to restore my power. And now, I will have my revenge.”
The fae-shifter’s voice was so calm, so controlled, yet the undercurrent of violence in her words sent a chill through the room. Mercy shivered again, unable to shake the feeling that Elyria was far more dangerous than anyone realized.
The door behind them swung open with a loud bang, and Hunter stormed into the room, his expression dark and urgent. “The witch and the vampire are moving toward the courtyard,” he said, his voice tense. “Colby’s men are trying to hold them off, but they’re using magic. It’s not looking good.”
Mercy’s heart skipped a beat. “Are they trying to escape?”
Hunter shook his head, his eyes flicking toward Elyria. “No. They’re coming for her.”
A heavy silence settled over the room. Mercy’s stomach churned with fear. The witch and the vampire weren’t running—they were coming straight for Elyria, determined to finish what they had started.
Elyria stood slowly, her movements graceful and deliberate. “Let them come,” she said, her voice cold and commanding. “I will deal with them.”
Hunter’s jaw clenched, and he stepped forward, blocking her path. “You’re not going out there alone.”
Elyria’s eyes flashed with irritation, but there was something almost amused in her expression. “I do not need your protection, vampire.”
Hunter didn’t back down, his gaze hard. “You might not need it, but you’re getting it anyway.”
The tension between them crackled like a live wire. Mercy could feel the strain in the air, the clash of wills as Hunter and Elyria locked eyes. She wasn’t sure who would win, but she knew one thing—they couldn’t afford to be divided now.
“Hunter’s right,” Mercy said, stepping forward, her voice firm. “We need to work together if we’re going to stop them. We can’t let them complete the ritual, and you can’t take them on by yourself.”
Elyria’s gaze flicked to Mercy; her expression unreadable. For a long moment, she said nothing, simply studying Mercy as if weighing her words. Then, finally, she inclined her head slightly, a gesture of reluctant acceptance.
“Very well,” Elyria said softly. “But do not think for a moment that I am helpless.”
