Chapter 14

CHAPTER 14

HUNTER

H unter felt the dark magic crackling in the air, like invisible tendrils of chaos weaving through the courtyard, seeping into every corner of the abbey. The oppressive energy swirled, thick and suffocating, cutting off the light and choking the purity of the once-sacred space. This wasn't just a skirmish; it was a full-blown war. The witch's magic and the vampire's bloodlust had turned the courtyard into a battlefield, and Hunter knew they were all fighting for their lives—and for something far greater.

The witch stood at the far end of the courtyard, her lips moving in a silent chant, her dark eyes gleaming with malevolent power. Around her, the air shimmered and warped, distorting reality as her magic twisted and bent the natural world to her will. She was a conduit of destruction, a storm ready to break, and Hunter knew that if they didn't stop her soon, there would be nothing left to protect.

Beside the witch, the vampire stood tall and deadly, his eyes glowing red, fangs bared in anticipation. Swirling overhead, the reinforcements they had called—an entire nest of vampires—swooped down from the sky like dark shadows, their forms shifting mid-air before landing with silent grace. The vampires spread out, their movements fluid and lethal, cutting through Colby's men with ruthless precision.

Bullets wouldn't even slow them down. The abbey's defenders were left with only more primitive weapons to take down their enemies: fire, decapitation, and a silver or wood stake through the heart. They seemed impervious to holy water, and whether or not direct sunlight could kill them was unknown as the witch had managed to block out the sun, and holy water was in short supply.

The two things those who battled against the invaders did have was training. Colby's captain of the guard, Decker, had trained their men well and they were managing to at least hold the attackers at bay. It wasn't much, but it was giving those with the gift of magic who could combat the witch directly a chance to find a way to end the battle with the residents at the abbey the victors.

An icy pressure built in Hunter's chest as he absorbed the chaos around him, every sense sharpened to a razor's edge. The shifters were holding their ground, but barely. The vampire assailants were relentless, their strength bolstered by the witch's magic, and it was only a matter of time before the tide turned against those who called the abbey home.

He couldn't let that happen.

"We need to take the witch down," Hunter growled, his voice thick with urgency as he turned to Elyria. "She's fueling the vampires. As long as she's casting spells, we don't stand a chance."

Elyria's eyes blazed with cold fury as she followed Hunter's gaze toward the witch. "I will handle her," she said, her voice as sharp as a blade. "But first, we must deal with these vampires."

Without another word, Elyria raised her hands, and the earth beneath her feet responded. Vines and roots erupted from the ground, twisting and curling like living snakes as they lashed out at the nearest vampires. The creatures snarled and hissed as they were entangled, their claws slashing at the thick tendrils of nature that sought to bind them.

Hunter didn't waste any time. He shifted into his falcon form, his body shrinking and twisting as his wings unfurled. With a powerful thrust, he soared into the sky, his sharp eyes scanning the battlefield below. From above, he could see the full scope of the battle—the clash of magic, the flashing of steel, and the blood that stained the earth.

Colby's men were fighting valiantly, some in their human forms, others in their shifted states. Wolves, bears, and lynxes tore through the vampires, their claws and teeth gleaming in the dim light. But the vampires were fast—too fast. They darted in and out of the fight, their movements a blur as they struck with deadly precision.

Hunter's eyes locked onto a group of vampires who had surrounded a wolf-shifter, their claws tearing into his flesh as he howled in pain. Rage flared in Hunter's chest, and he dove toward them with a speed that defied gravity. The talons of one foot struck like lightning, raking across the back of one vampire and sending him crashing to the ground. In the other, he held a silver-tipped dagger with which he could fight in human form. Before the creature could recover, Hunter shifted mid-air, landing in his human form with the dagger ready to strike.

The vampire snarled, baring his fangs as he lunged at Hunter, but Hunter was faster. He dodged the attack, spinning to the side and driving his dagger into the vampire's chest with brutal force. The creature let out a blood-curdling scream as the silver burned through its flesh, its body convulsing before disintegrating into ash.

Hunter didn't stop to catch his breath. He felt something sizzle around him, and as he looked down, he realized he was clothed. One glance at Adriana confirmed she had used a bit of her magic to give him some protection. There was no time for anything else. Another vampire was already charging at him, eyes glowing with hunger. Hunter sidestepped the attack, slashing his dagger across the vampire's neck in one swift motion, decapitating it in an instant. The creature's eyes flashed in shock before it, too, crumbled into dust.

All around him, the battle raged on. Magic flared in bursts of light as Adriana fought alongside Colby's men, her spells casting shields and sending bolts of energy toward the vampires. But Hunter could see the strain on her face. She was powerful, but the witch was draining her—draining all of them.

His gaze flicked to the witch, still standing at the far end of the courtyard, her lips moving faster now as she summoned even more dark energy. The air around her shimmered with raw power, distorting the space as her magic twisted and warped the battlefield. She was preparing for something big, something devastating, and Hunter knew they couldn't afford to let her finish the spell.

But before he could move, his eyes landed on Mercy.

She was near Adriana, her face pale but determined, her eyes locked on the witch. Hunter's heart clenched as he watched her, a strange sense of dread settling in his chest. There was something about her, something different. He had seen Mercy fight before, had witnessed her strength and her resolve, but this was different. There was a power within her now, something raw and untapped, and it was coming to the surface.

As if sensing his gaze, Mercy glanced up at him, their eyes meeting for a brief moment before she turned her attention back to the witch. Hunter's breath caught in his throat as he watched her raise her hands, the air around her humming with energy. A faint glow surrounded her, pulsing with power as she prepared to strike.

"Mercy…" Hunter whispered; his voice lost in the cacophony of battle.

Elyria moved beside Mercy, her own power crackling in the air as she extended her hand toward the witch. Together, the three women—Elyria, Adriana, and Mercy—formed a line of power, their magic intertwining and swirling as they faced the witch head-on. The ground beneath them trembled, the air around them charged with energy as their combined forces prepared to strike.

Hunter could only continue to fight those around him—a surge of cold adrenaline coursing through his veins as he took in the chaos unfolding around him. The magic between the two sides built to a crescendo. This was it—the turning point.

But then something changed.

The witch's eyes flicked to Mercy, narrowing in sudden recognition. A cruel smile twisted her lips, and her dark eyes gleamed with malicious intent. She said something to Mercy he couldn't hear and while Mercy's body language registered shock, she didn't falter. She held her ground, her magic growing stronger as it flowed from her fingertips, the glow around her intensifying.

Before anyone could react, the witch's magic surged forward, a bolt of dark energy so fast and so vicious that Hunter barely had time to process what was happening. The dark magic hit Mercy with the force of a hurricane, the energy slamming into her chest and sending her flying backward.

"Mercy!" Hunter's voice ripped from his throat as he watched her crumple to the ground, her body limp and motionless.

A roar of fury tore through him, and without thinking, he sprinted across the courtyard, adrenaline spurring him forward. He charged the witch, determined to kill her and end her evil once and for all.

"Hey!" he roared, taking her attention away from Mercy to focus on him. "Over here, you twisted bitch!"

The witch turned towards him, her eyes narrowing. Her hand still crackled with magic, but that momentary loss of focus was going to cost her everything. Hunter reached her in a blazing rush of motion, his blade raised high, coming down to pierce the witch's heart with deadly accuracy. She barely had time for the speed of his attack to register.

The cold, honed steel found its mark, sending the witch stumbling back away from him, her hands grasping at the blood from the mortal wound he had inflicted. Her dark magic flickered and sputtered as her body jerked violently. The light was fading from her eyes, when Hunter struck again, the blade driving even more deeply.

"You don't touch her," he snarled.

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 a heap of dust and ash at Hunter's feet.

The battle raged on around him, but all he could see—all he could focus on—was Mercy lying on the cold, hard ground, the witch's dark magic still crackling around her.

He reached her side in seconds, dropping to his knees beside her, his hands trembling as he lifted her into his arms. Her skin was pale, her breathing shallow, and the wound on her chest—where the witch's magic had struck—glowed with a sickly, pulsing light. The dark energy was still there, burrowing into her flesh, poisoning her from the inside out.

"No," Hunter whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "No, no, no. Stay with me, Mercy."

Her eyes fluttered open, just barely, her gaze hazy and unfocused. "Hunter…" she whispered; her voice so faint it was barely audible.

"Shh," he murmured, an unbearable weight settling in his chest as he saw the pain etched across her face. "I've got you. You're going to be okay."

But even as he said the words, a part of him knew it might be too late. The witch's magic was too strong, too dark, and it was spreading through Mercy's body like a virus.

Behind him, the battle raged on, but Hunter barely noticed. His entire world had narrowed to the woman in his arms—the woman whose life was slipping away with every passing second.

"Please, Mercy," Hunter whispered, his voice thick with desperation. "Please, stay with me."

He had never begged for anything in his life—never believed in something greater than himself from which he could ask for assistance, but he did so now. He couldn't lose her. He couldn't.

But Mercy's eyes were already closing, her breathing growing fainter with each passing moment.

"No," Hunter growled, his voice raw with grief. "Don't you dare leave me."

His hands shook as he pressed them to her wound, trying to stop the spread of the dark magic, trying to save her. But he wasn't a healer. He wasn't a mage. He was a killer, a warrior—and none of that could help him now.

Adriana and Elyria stood tall, their hands trembling slightly as the remnants of their magic sparked from their fingertips. Adriana's chest heaved with exhaustion, beads of sweat glistening on her brow. Beside her, Elyria was a vision of unyielding power. The fae-shifter's eyes still glowed with a faint, ethereal light, but the fury that had driven her moments ago seemed to have cooled into a deadly calm. She cast one final glance at the witch's fallen form, her lips curling in a small, satisfied smile. Justice had been served. But the battle was far from over.

The vampires, though weakened and disoriented, were still dangerous. Without the witch to guide them, they moved with a newfound desperation, lashing out at Colby's men with a wild, unfocused rage. Their attacks were no longer precise or calculated; they were the thrashing movements of beasts who knew their time was running out.

Colby's men seized the opportunity, regrouping quickly. The shifters, those already in their animal forms—wolves, lynxes, and bears—pressed the attack, their fangs and claws gleaming in the dim light as they tore into the remaining vampires. With the witch no longer bolstering their strength, the vampires were no match for the ferocity of the shifters.

Hunter watched from his position beside Mercy's inert form, a restless energy surging through him. He wanted nothing more than to rush into the fray, to help finish off the remaining vampires, but he couldn't leave Mercy. Not like this. Not when her life hung in the balance.

Instead, he gripped his dagger tightly, his eyes scanning the courtyard, ready to protect her if any vampire dared to come near.

Adriana and Elyria turned their attention to the remaining attackers. Adriana, though visibly drained from the magical assault she had just unleashed, still had enough strength to raise her hands and summon a barrier of shimmering light that encircled the remaining shifters, protecting them from any stray attacks.

Elyria, her power still potent despite the battle's toll, stepped forward, her eyes narrowing as she focused on the vampires that remained. With a single, graceful motion, she raised her hand, and the earth beneath the vampires' feet trembled. As roots and vines rose from the ground, wrapping around the vampires' legs and immobilizing them, Colby's forces continued to cut them down.

The vampires struggled, hissing and snarling as they tried to break free, but Elyria's control over nature was absolute. The more they fought, the tighter the vines coiled around them, squeezing until the sound of bones cracking filled the air, making them easy targets for the defenders to dispatch.

The courtyard was a chaotic symphony of growls, snarls, and the sickening sound of flesh being torn apart. Colby's men, emboldened by the collapse of the witch's magic, fought with renewed vigor, their movements a blur of violence and precision as they took down the remaining vampires one by one.

At first, it was subtle—a change in the rhythm of the battle, like the first stirrings of wind before a storm. The enemies' once-coordinated attacks began to falter, and their movements grew slower, more desperate. Those defending the abbey, though battered, began to feel a renewed energy rising within them, like embers fanned into flame.

A fierce shout rang out, echoing through the walls of the abbey, and it seemed to awaken something primal in the defenders. They pressed harder, their weapons slashing with new purpose. The fear that had gnawed at them moments before began to ebb, replaced by a ferocious determination. One by one, the enemy forces began to fall, and for the first time, the defenders allowed themselves to hope.

The sight of the enemy retreating, their formations breaking, ignited a frenzy in the ranks of the abbey's defenders. With every foe they struck down, their confidence grew, feeding the rising tide of elation. They moved as one now, a unified force with no intention of letting their momentum slip. Every victory on the battlefield of the once-peaceful abbey became a shared triumph, their voices lifting in battle cries that echoed louder and more defiantly.

Then, in a pivotal moment, a great roar erupted from one of the battlements as the last of the enemy commanders fell, his body crumpling beneath a flurry of blows. It was as if the abbey itself exhaled, the weight of battle lifting from its shoulders.

A cheer went up, first small but quickly growing, swelling into a chorus of victory that filled the air. The once grim faces of the defenders broke into wide, exhilarated grins as they realized— they were winning . The enemy was in full retreat, their lines shattered. What had seemed an endless struggle mere moments ago was now a rout.

The defenders surged forward, emboldened by the sight of their enemies falling. Some evaporated into ash as they were killed, others fleeing as they realized their advantage had dissolved. Those who fought for the abbey found their strikes more efficient, and their collective ferocity intensified, driven by the realization that victory was within their grasp. What began as a desperate defense had turned into a pursuit of triumph.

An intense surge of energy coursed through Hunter as he watched the battle unfold, his grip on Mercy tightening. She lay in his arms, pale and still, her chest barely rising with each shallow breath. The wound the witch had inflicted on her was dark and festering, the remnants of dark magic still pulsing through it like poison.

He clenched his jaw, forcing himself to stay calm. He couldn't lose her. Not like this.

Across the courtyard, Adriana's barrier held strong, deflecting any last-ditch attacks from the vampires as they fell to the relentless onslaught of the shifters. It was brutal; it was bloody, but it was effective. The tide had turned in their favor.

Within moments, the courtyard fell eerily silent. The last of the vampires crumbled into ash, their bodies disintegrating as the last threads of the witch's magic finally unraveled.

Colby's men stood victorious, their fur matted and bodies covered with blood, their chests heaving from the exertion of the fight. But there was no time for celebration. The cost of the battle was clear—too many shifters had fallen, too many lives lost. And at the center of it all, Mercy lay wounded, her life slipping away with every passing second.

Hunter looked up as Adriana and Elyria approached, their faces grim.

"We need to heal her," Hunter said, his voice raw with emotion as he looked down at Mercy.

"She's not going to make it if we don't do something."

Adriana knelt beside him, her hand gently resting on Mercy's forehead as she closed her eyes, concentrating. "The witch's magic is still inside her," she said, her voice strained. "It's strong—too strong for me to break alone."

Elyria stepped forward; her expression unreadable as she looked down at Mercy. "I can help," she said softly. "But it will not be easy. Fae magic is not meant to mix with that of others."

An unfamiliar rush flowed through Hunter as he watched Elyria. He knew the fae-shifter's power was immense, but even she seemed cautious. The situation was dire, and there was no room for error.

"Do whatever it takes," Hunter said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Please. I can't lose her."

Elyria's gaze softened for a moment, her eyes flicking to Hunter as if she understood the depth of his desperation. Then, without another word, she knelt beside Adriana and placed her hands over Mercy's wound.

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 on both 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."