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The two women closed their eyes, their magic intertwining as they worked together to drive out the dark energy that still festered within Mercy’s body. Hunter watched in agonizing silence as their combined power flared, casting a soft, ethereal light over Mercy’s pale form.
For what felt like an eternity, the courtyard was filled with the soft hum of magic, the air thick with tension as Adriana and Elyria fought to save Mercy’s life. Hunter could feel the strain onboth of them, could see the sweat beading on their foreheads as they poured every ounce of their strength into the healing.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the dark magic began to dissipate, the sickly glow around Mercy’s wound fading into nothingness. Adriana let out a shaky breath, her hands trembling as she pulled away, her face pale with exhaustion.
Elyria remained silent; her gaze fixed on Mercy as she withdrew her magic. The wound on Mercy’s chest had closed, but her skin was still pale, her breathing still shallow.
“That is all we can do. It may not be enough. The rest she must do on her own,” Elyria said quietly, her voice laced with exhaustion. “If she is to survive, she will need time to recover.”
Hunter’s chest tightened with relief, but the fear still gnawed at him. Mercy was alive, but barely. And the battle had taken its toll on all of them.
For a moment, he couldn’t speak. He couldn’t move. All he could do was hold Mercy close, his heart pounding in his chest as the reality of what had just happened washed over him.
The witch was down. The vampires were defeated. But the cost had been high.
The battle was over—for now. But deep inside, Hunter knew this was only the beginning. There was still a darkness looming on the horizon, a threat far greater than the one they had just faced. And somehow, Mercy was at the center of it all.
“Stay with me,” Hunter whispered, his voice breaking as he held her tighter, desperate. He ached with a fear he had never known; the thought of losing her too much to bear. “Please, Mercy. Don’t leave me.”
But as he gazed down at her, watching the color drain from her cheeks, the fragility of her body only emphasized the looming truth. He was running out of time, and the realization hit him harder than any enemy ever could.
But Hunter didn’t care. His entire focus was on Mercy—on the woman who had come to mean more to him than he ever thought possible.
“Stay with me,” he whispered again, his voice shaking as he held her close. “Please, Mercy. Don’t leave me.”
CHAPTER 15
MERCY
The courtyard of the abbey was chaos. Vampires swooped from the skies like dark, malevolent shadows, their forms twisting through the air, shifting between their aerial shapes and their bloodthirsty humanoid figures. The clang of steel, the growl of shifters in their animal forms, and the hum of powerful magic filled the air, creating a cacophony of sound that rattled Mercy’s bones. But she wasn’t afraid—not anymore.
For the first time in her life, standing amidst the battle, Mercy felt her power rise. It wasn’t the cold, detached vigilance of scanning the skies from above, nor the sharp instincts of her falcon form. This was something deeper, something that came from somewhere deep inside her. It thrummed in her blood like an ancient song, a rhythm she had never heard before but now pulsed through her veins with undeniable clarity.
She had been watching Elyria, the fae/wolf-shifter, and Adriana as they battled against the witch and the vampires, their combined magic formidable and overwhelming. But then, something had clicked within Mercy—a realization, a spark—and she had felt it. The connection. It wasn’t just magic thatcoursed through her; it was a power rooted in her very essence, something ancient, something fae.
She was more than just eyes in the sky.
Mercy clenched her fists, feeling the warmth of her power pooling in her hands. Her body hummed with energy, her senses sharpening as the action on the battlefield seemed to slow around her. She could feel the magic all around her, the vibrations of the earth beneath her feet, the very pulse of life itself. It was all connected, and somehow, she was a part of it.
Elyria glanced at her, as if sensing the shift and gave her a sharp nod. Mercy stepped forward, her heart pounding in her chest. This was it—her moment to prove she was more than just a scout for the Shadow Sisters. She could fight. She could be in the thick of it.
The witch, standing at the far end of the courtyard, her lips still moving in a silent incantation, hadn’t noticed her yet. Mercy could see the dark tendrils of the witch’s magic swirling around her, feeding the vampires’ bloodlust, fueling the chaos. But now, Mercy could feel the witch’s magic for what it was—a poison, dark and festering, spreading like a disease through the air.
Mercy raised her hands, calling on the power within her. The witch needed to die, and she needed to die now. Elyria and Adriana seemed to be able to hold the witch at bay but not destroy her. Mercy called on whatever fae blood or power she had. She didn’t fully understand it yet, but she didn’t need to. The magic responded to her will, flowing through her like water, coalescing into a glowing orb of light between her palms. She focused, her heart racing as she aimed at the witch.
“Now!” Adriana shouted, her voice cutting through the din of battle.
With a surge of determination, Mercy unleashed the energy, sending it hurtling across the courtyard toward the witch. The glowing orb of light shot through the air, its power cracklingwith intensity as it collided with the witch’s dark magic. For a moment, the two forces clashed, and Mercy felt the impact reverberate through her entire body. She could see and feel Adriana and Elyria’s magic combining with her own to defeat the witch who had brought this fight to them. She had picked the wrong enemy. She and her vampire lover would not be victorious.
As their combined power hit her, the witch’s magic faltered.
Mercy’s power, combined with Elyria’s and Adriana’s, overwhelmed the darkness, burning through the witch’s defenses like wildfire. The witch let out a shriek of fury, her form flickering as her hold on the magic began to crumble.
Mercy felt pride and triumph well up within her, a flash of joy rushing through her as she realized what she had done. She had helped. She had really helped. Her power wasn’t just a fluke or a hidden talent to be used in secret—it was real, and it was strong. She had finally proven herself not just to the others but to herself.
But that moment of triumph was short-lived.
The witch’s attention snapped to Mercy, her dark eyes narrowing with a sudden, cruel understanding. Her lips twisted into a snarl, and Mercy felt a shiver of fear crawl down her spine. The witch had noticed her. Worse, she had recognized Mercy’s power—recognized what it meant.
