Chapter 13

CHAPTER 13

MERCY

M ercy stepped out from behind Adriana, feeling a surge of power in the room so palpable that it nearly stole her breath. The air was thick with the presence of the fae-shifter, Elyria, whose very being seemed to pulse with the energy of the earth, the wind, and something far older than Mercy could even comprehend. It was as though the elements themselves had coalesced around the fae, bending to her will, crackling with barely restrained magic.

For a moment, Mercy froze, her body instinctively reacting to the sheer weight of Elyria's presence. She'd never felt anything like it before—this overwhelming, raw power that pressed against her skin, sinking into her bones. It was terrifying and awe-inspiring all at once, and it made Mercy's heart pound in her chest.

As her senses adjusted, Mercy felt a strange pull toward Elyria, a connection she couldn't explain. It wasn't just the magic; it was something deeper, something that resonated with her in a way that made no sense.

Then Elyria spoke, her voice smooth, almost melodic. "And you have the soul of a fae."

The words hit Mercy like a punch, knocking the wind from her lungs. ‘ The soul of a fae? ' What?

Her mind raced, confusion and disbelief swirling through her thoughts. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. How could that be possible? She was a falcon-shifter—born and raised in a world far removed from the realm of fae. She had never even considered the idea that there could be something more lurking beneath her skin, something ancient and otherworldly. Adriana had mentioned there being magic in Mercy's blood, but she'd never given it much thought… or credence, until now.

The fact that it was fae magic, rather than pure witch magic, helped make sense of her own otherness.

Elyria's gaze stayed on her, unreadable, but there was a flicker of something in her eyes—something knowing, something patient, as if she had all the time in the world to wait for Mercy to catch up.

Mercy finally found her voice, though it came out quieter than she intended. "What… what do you mean by that? How could I have the soul of a fae?"

But Elyria didn't answer. Instead, she smiled—a slow, enigmatic curve of her lips that sent a shiver down Mercy's spine. Elyria turned and moved with graceful fluidity to one of the tables in the room, seating herself as if the entire world were waiting on her to speak. Mercy hesitated, glancing at Adriana for reassurance, but Adriana's focus was entirely on Elyria, her own expression a mixture of awe and wariness.

Mercy swallowed hard and followed Elyria, her legs feeling like lead as she crossed the room. She sat down across from the fae-shifter, trying to gather her thoughts, trying to make sense of everything that had just happened. The tension in the room was thick, charged with anticipation. She knew instinctively that this was a rare opportunity—a moment they couldn't afford to waste.

Elyria's gaze settled on Mercy again, as though she was examining her very soul. "I know who you are, Mercy Bowen."

Mercy's heart skipped a beat. "How do you know my name?"

"I know many things," Elyria said softly, her voice calm, almost soothing. "I have seen many things."

Mercy struggled to refocus, shaking off the unsettling feeling that Elyria was seeing straight through her. "We've been trying to understand what happened to you," she began, carefully choosing her words. "We know you're both fae and a wolf shifter, but… how is that possible?"

For the first time, Elyria's expression shifted, a shadow crossing her face. "I managed to avoid being formally banished from my realm, but it was made clear to me that I wasn't welcome," she said, her voice still calm but with an undercurrent of bitterness. "The details of my exile really aren't important now. But when I crossed the portal into this world, I was no longer protected. My power was weakened, and I was vulnerable."

Mercy leaned forward, her mind racing with questions. "You were attacked?"

Elyria nodded, her eyes darkening. "A wolf shifter caught my scent almost immediately. I tried to defend myself, using the power I still had—calling on the earth, the wind—but it wasn't enough. He claimed me, and I became bound to him."

The way Elyria spoke—calm, detached—sent a chill through Mercy's veins. There was no sign of distress in her voice, but the anger simmering beneath the surface was unmistakable. It burned in her eyes, sharp and dangerous, like the crackle of lightning before a storm. Mercy felt a shiver run down her spine.

Elyria's gaze flicked to Mercy, and a small, almost predatory smile curved her lips. "Do not worry," she said softly. "I will have my justice."

Mercy's throat tightened. The intensity in Elyria's voice made it clear that this wasn't a threat. It was a promise—more than that, it was a sacred vow.

Mercy swallowed, trying to keep her voice steady. "Last night, I learned that fae blood holds immense power for other supernatural creatures… and even humans. Is that why the witch and the vampire were holding you? To use your blood?"

Elyria's expression shifted again, the calm mask giving way to something darker. "Yes," she said, her voice quiet but laced with venom. "The witch and the vampire were preparing for a blood moon ritual. They had begun draining my blood, bit by bit, in order to empower themselves. Fae blood has a potency that no other magic can match. The witch sought to strengthen her magic, and the vampire…" Her gaze turned accusatory, shifting from Mercy to the others in the room. "He sought something even greater than immortality."

Mercy's heart raced as Elyria's words sank in. The blood moon ritual—an ancient, forbidden practice designed to siphon the life force of powerful beings, to gain their strength, their magic. It made sense, but the sheer brutality of it sent a wave of revulsion through Mercy.

"You brought them here?" Elyria's voice snapped like a whip, her eyes blazing with fury as she looked directly at Hunter and the others. "To torment me further?"

The accusation hung in the air like a death sentence. Mercy's pulse quickened, and she saw Hunter stiffen behind her. His expression was tense, and for a moment, the room felt as though it might explode with the weight of Elyria's rage.

"They will not harm you again," Hunter said, stepping forward, his voice steady but firm. "We have them locked in cells. They can't touch you now."

Elyria's lips curled into a bitter smile, her eyes flashing with dark amusement. "As if that will stop them."

A ripple of unease swept through the room. Mercy glanced at Hunter, her stomach knotting with dread. Elyria wasn't wrong. She had already witnessed the extent of the witch's power—and the vampire's cunning. Locking them away might not be enough to keep them from unleashing whatever dark magic they were plotting.

Before anyone could respond, a sudden crash reverberated from outside the room, followed by the sound of shouts and hurried footsteps. Pandemonium broke out in the hallway, the noise growing louder by the second.

Mercy's heart leaped into her throat, adrenaline surging through her veins. She shot a glance at Hunter, who was already moving toward the door, his hand reaching for the hilt of his dagger.

"Stay here," Hunter said sharply, his voice laced with authority as he glanced back at her and Elyria. "I'll check it out."

But before he could take another step, the door burst open, and Adriana stumbled into the room, her face pale and bloodied. "They've escaped," she gasped, clutching her side. "The witch and the vampire—they've broken out."

The room plunged into silence, the words hanging heavy in the air. Mercy felt her heart skip a beat, her blood turning cold. Escaped? How?

Hunter's expression darkened, his eyes narrowing with deadly intent. "Where are they?"

Adriana staggered forward, her breath ragged. "They're in the abbey… moving toward the courtyard."

Mercy's mind raced, her stomach knotting with fear. If the witch and the vampire had broken free, then no one in the abbey was safe—not Elyria, not the others. And if they reached the courtyard, where the abbey's defenses were weakest, they could escape into the surrounding wilderness and be lost to them forever.

Hunter didn't hesitate. "Stay here," he barked at Mercy and Adriana again, his voice hard as steel. Then he turned and bolted toward the door.

Mercy wanted to follow, to help, but something kept her rooted to the spot. She glanced at Elyria, who sat motionless at the table, her eyes gleaming with an eerie calm.

"They will not escape," Elyria murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "Not from me."

Mercy felt a shiver crawl down her spine as Elyria's words echoed in her mind. There was no fear in the fae-shifter's voice, no panic—only the cold, unwavering certainty of someone who had already calculated her next move.

The fae would have her justice.

Mercy stood there for a moment, torn between following Hunter and staying with Elyria. Her instincts told her that whatever happened next, they were in for a battle unlike any they had faced before.

Mercy's pulse hammered in her ears as the weight of the situation settled around her. The air in the room, once thick with the energy of Elyria's presence, now buzzed with the frantic chaos coming from the hallway. The fae's calm was unsettling, but even more unnerving was the certainty in her words. ‘They will not escape. Not from me.'

Mercy's heart raced. She wanted to believe that Hunter and Colby's men could contain the situation, but Elyria's statement hung in the air like a death sentence. The witch and the vampire—they had broken free. And if they could break free of the dungeon, they could break through anything.

Her mind whirred as she tried to make sense of it all. How could they have escaped? Adriana's protective spell had been woven tightly around the witch's cell, and the vampire had been bound in silver. Yet somehow, they had found a way to breach their containment. Magic, Mercy thought grimly. The witch's magic had to be involved.

Adriana's voice broke through her thoughts, low and urgent. "Mercy, we have to stay with Elyria. If they're after her again, they'll come here."

Mercy's breath hitched. She turned to face Adriana, seeing the same fear reflected in her friend's eyes. Adriana wasn't one to panic easily, but the gravity of the situation was clear. The witch and vampire wanted Elyria for her blood, for her power. They had already come so close to draining her before Hunter and Colby had intervened. They wouldn't stop now—not with the blood moon looming.

"I know," Mercy said, her voice tight. "But we can't just sit here and wait for them to show up. We need to protect her."

She glanced at Elyria, who had not moved from her seat. The fae-shifter's eyes glowed faintly, her expression serene, as if the chaos erupting around them didn't matter in the slightest. It was as if Elyria knew that no matter what happened, she held the upper hand.

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, they would 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."

"No one's saying you are," Hunter replied, his tone softer now but still firm. "But we have the same goal—to stop them. We're better off doing this together."

Mercy's pulse quickened as she glanced between them. The tension in the room was still palpable, but there was an unspoken agreement now—a fragile alliance forged in the face of a common enemy. They were in this together, whether they liked it or not.

A crash from outside jolted them back to reality. The sounds of battle echoed through the abbey—shouts, the clang of steel, and the eerie hum of magic. Time was running out.

Hunter's gaze met Mercy's, and she could see the determination burning in his eyes. "Let's move," he said, his voice low and urgent.

Mercy nodded, her heart racing. She turned to Adriana, who had already begun gathering her magical supplies. "We'll need everything you've got," Mercy said.

Adriana gave a curt nod. "I'm ready."

Elyria swept past them; her steps silent as she moved with predatory grace toward the door. "Let's finish this," she murmured, her voice cold as the wind outside.

Together, they stepped out into the hallway, the weight of the impending confrontation pressing down on them like a storm cloud ready to break. Mercy's heart pounded in her chest, her senses on high alert as they moved quickly through the abbey's corridors.

As they neared the courtyard, the sounds of the battle grew louder. Magic crackled in the air, sharp and potent, as the witch and vampire unleashed their fury on Colby's men. The courtyard was a mess of overturned debris, tendrils of dark energy spiraling into the sky like smoke.

Colby's men were doing their best to hold the line, but it was clear they were struggling. The witch's power was overwhelming, and the vampire moved with deadly precision, striking down anyone who got too close.

Mercy's stomach clenched at the sight. This is it, she thought. This is where it ends.

Hunter stepped forward, his hand tightening around the hilt of his dagger. "We take them down. No compassion; no grace."

Elyria moved beside him, her expression cold and unyielding. "They will regret ever crossing paths with me."

Mercy's breath caught in her throat as she glanced at Hunter, feeling the weight of the moment settle around them. This was their line in the sand—perhaps their last chance to stop the ritual and prevent the destruction that loomed over them like a shadow.

With a deep breath, Mercy stepped forward, her heart pounding as she prepared for the fight of her life.