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“You,” the witch hissed, her voice laced with venom. “You’re fae.”
Mercy’s blood ran cold. Fae? She wasn’t fae. She was a falcon-shifter, nothing more. But the look in the witch’s eyes said otherwise, as if she could see something deep inside Mercy that even Mercy herself didn’t fully understand.
Before Mercy could react, the witch raised her hands, dark magic swirling around her like a storm. The air crackled with energy, and Mercy’s instincts screamed at her to move, to dodge,to shift into her falcon form, and fly away. But she was frozen, trapped in the witch’s gaze, her body locked in place by a force she couldn’t control.
The witch’s magic surged forward; a dark, pulsing wave of energy aimed directly at Mercy. It hit her with the force of a hurricane, the power slamming into her chest and knocking the breath from her lungs, its cold tendrils wrapping around her heart. Mercy was thrown backward, her body hurtling through the air as if she were nothing more than a rag doll caught in a storm.
She felt the impact before she registered what had happened. Her body crashed into the stone wall at the far end of the courtyard, the force of the blow reverberating through her bones. Pain exploded through her, sharp and searing, as she crumpled to the ground, her vision blurring at the edges. Her vision flickered, darkness creeping in at the edges. Every breath was agony, her chest heavy as if a great weight was pressing down on her. She tried to move, but her body refused to respond, leaving her helpless on the cold, unforgiving ground.
The world around her spun, the sounds of the battle fading into a distant hum as her senses dulled. She tried to move, tried to push herself up, but her limbs wouldn’t respond. The pain was too much, the darkness too heavy.
Through the haze of pain and confusion, she caught a glimpse of Hunter, his face contorted in horror as he saw her fall. Time seemed to slow, and for a moment, all she could focus on was the anguish in his eyes. He called her name, his voice raw and desperate, cutting through the chaos that swirled around them.
"Mercy!" he shouted.
His voice was filled with a kind of panic she had never heard from him before. It echoed in her mind, dragging her back from the brink of unconsciousness. Her heart lurched painfully in herchest, but she couldn’t respond, couldn’t even lift her hand to let him know she was still alive.
The witch had a twisted smile playing across her lips as she raised her hand to deliver the final blow. Mercy could feel the dark magic crackling in the air, the oppressive weight of it pressing down on her, suffocating her. She braced herself for the end, her mind swimming with fragmented thoughts, knowing she had no strength left to fight back.
But then, through the haze, she saw Hunter running—fast, faster than she’d ever seen him move before. He was a blur of motion, his body coiled with lethal intent as he charged toward the witch, his eyes blazing with fury.
"Hey!" Hunter roared, his voice sharp, demanding. "Over here, you twisted bitch!"
The witch’s head snapped around, her glowing eyes narrowing in irritation as she turned her attention toward him. Her hand, still crackling with magic, faltered for just a split second, but that was all Hunter needed.
In an instant, he was upon her.
Hunter’s blade gleamed in the dim light as he swung it with deadly precision, aiming straight for the witch’s heart. She barely had time to react, her eyes widening in surprise as the cold steel found its mark, stabbing her in the chest. Her mouth opened in a silent scream, the dark magic around her sputtering and flickering out as her body jerked violently.
The force of the blow sent her staggering backward, her hand clutching the wound in disbelief. Blood trickled down her chest, staining her robes, and the malevolent glow in her eyes began to fade. Hunter didn’t wait for her to recover—he followed through, driving the blade deeper, his teeth bared in a savage snarl.
"You don’t touch her," he growled, his voice low and dangerous.
The witch’s body convulsed, her magic unraveling around her in a chaotic burst of energy. With a final, gasping breath, she crumpled to the ground, her lifeless form collapsing into dust and ash at Hunter’s feet.
Hunter stood there for a moment, his chest heaving as he watched the witch’s body vanish into smoke and shadow. His hands were shaking, still gripping the hilt of his blade tightly, his mind racing as the adrenaline surged through his veins.
But then, his gaze snapped back to Mercy, lying broken on the ground.
"Mercy!" he shouted, his voice ragged as he rushed to her side, dropping to his knees beside her.
He gathered her limp form into his arms, his hands trembling as he gently cradled her. "Stay with me," he whispered urgently, his voice thick with fear. "Don’t leave me."
But Mercy’s eyes had already closed, and the world around her began to fade to black.
“No,” he whispered, his voice rough with emotion as he gathered her into his arms. “No, no, no. Stay with me, Mercy.”
Her eyes barely fluttered open, the world around her was hazy and unfocused. “Hunter…” she whispered.
“Shh,” he murmured, pain etched across his face. “I’ve got you. You’re going to be okay.”
But she knew she wasn’t. The witch’s magic was too strong, too dark, and she could feel it spreading through her body like a relentless plague.
“Please, Mercy,” Hunter whispered, his voice thick with desperation. “Please, stay with me.”
She wanted to speak, to tell him she was okay, but the words wouldn’t come. The pain in her chest was overwhelming, a deep, aching throb that made it hard to breathe. Her vision flickered, darkness creeping in at the edges as she fought to stay conscious.
Hunter’s face blurred above her, his voice fading in and out as he called her name. She could feel the warmth of his hands on her skin, the way he held her so carefully, as if she might break if he held her too tightly.
