Chapter 15

CHAPTER 15

MERCY

T he 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 that coursed 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 crackling with 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.

"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 her chest, 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.

But even through the pain, even as the world faded around her, Mercy felt a strange sense of peace. She had done it. She had fought, she had proven herself, and she had stood with her sisters in battle. She wasn't just a falcon-shifter anymore—she was something more.

Her eyelids grew heavy, her body sinking into the comforting warmth of Hunter's arms. The pain was still there, but it felt distant now, like something that belonged to someone else.

The last thing she saw before the darkness claimed her was Hunter's face, his eyes filled with fear and something else—something she couldn't quite name. And then, she felt herself slip away, the world fading into nothingness.

Mercy drifted in and out of consciousness for days—or perhaps months or even years. Time had become inconsequential. The pain came and went in waves as her mind struggled to hold on. She didn't know how much time had passed—minutes, hours, maybe longer. Everything felt hazy and distant, as if she were trapped in a fog that wouldn't lift.

But one thing remained constant: Hunter's presence.

She could feel him, always there, always close, his warmth wrapping around her like a protective shield. Even when she couldn't see him, even when the darkness threatened to swallow her whole, she knew he was there. She wasn't alone. He was her lifeline—the anchor that kept her tethered to the here and now—to this side of existence.

And slowly, as the pain began to fade, Mercy found herself holding on to that thought.

She wasn't alone.

Mercy awoke with a start, her body jerking as if pulled from the depths of a nightmare. Her eyes fluttered open, adjusting to the dim light of the room around her. The familiar scent of herbs and antiseptic filled her nostrils, and she realized she was in the medical unit of the abbey. The stone walls loomed around her, cold and unwelcoming, but there was something else—a gnawing, unsettling sensation deep in her chest, something that didn't feel right.

She blinked, trying to clear her foggy mind, but the odd feeling persisted. Her senses seemed sharper, more acute, as if she could hear every whisper of air in the room, every heartbeat. Even her vision felt heightened, the low light more than enough to see every detail around her.

She pushed herself up onto her elbows, glancing down at her body. Two arms, two legs—everything was where it should be. Yet something felt undeniably different, a strange hunger gnawing at her, deep in her gut. It wasn't the kind of hunger she was used to, the pangs of needing food or drink. No, this was something else—primal and unfamiliar.

Her brows furrowed in confusion as she scanned the room. Adriana stood near the foot of her bed, talking quietly with Greg, the abbey's doctor, and one of Adriana's two mates. They were deep in conversation, their faces tight with worry.

Mercy experienced a rush of emotion, and a sickening sense of dread settled in her stomach. The feeling of wrongness wasn't just in her head. Something had happened—something bad.

She focused on the conversation between Adriana and Greg, their hushed voices barely audible, but her newly heightened senses picked up every word.

"Her vitals are stable, but this is beyond anything I've ever seen," Greg murmured, his voice tinged with unease. "The magic from the witch's attack was too strong. It should have been fatal."

Adriana's expression was grim, her lips pressed into a thin line. "It was fatal, in a manner of speaking. Without Hunter's intervention, she would be dead right now."

Mercy felt a strange flutter in her chest, her breath catching in her throat. Dead? She listened more intently, her pulse thudding in her ears.

The doctor glanced toward Mercy's bed, his voice lowering even further. "Turning someone… it's not something I've seen happen outside of old stories. Shifters turning humans or other shifters, sure, but this? And without her consent? Are you sure it was necessary?"

Adriana nodded solemnly. "Hunter didn't have a choice. The witch's blow would have killed her. She was too far gone, and Hunter… he saved her the only way he knew how. You, of all people, should understand. Oliver Halsey didn't ask you when he chose to save your life on the battlefield."

"That was different…"

"No. It was the same."

The doctor hesitated before speaking again. "By turning her into one of them? Into a vampire?"

Mercy's blood turned to ice. The room spun as the doctor's words echoed in her mind, and a tidal wave of panic surged through her. A vampire? No. That couldn't be right. It wasn't possible.

Her breath quickened, her chest rising and falling in shallow gasps. She felt dizzy, her vision tunneling as the truth of what she'd heard began to sink in. She wasn't the same. She wasn't herself.

She made a slight sound, a choked whimper that caught in her throat. Adriana's head snapped up; her eyes wide as she realized Mercy was awake.

"Mercy," Adriana whispered, stepping toward her bed, her expression torn between relief and trepidation. "You're awake."

Mercy shook her head, her mouth dry as she struggled to form words. "What… what did you just say?" Her voice was hoarse, but there was a raw edge of fear in it. "I… I'm not…"

Adriana's face softened, but there was no mistaking the sadness in her eyes. "Mercy, please, let me explain."

"No," Mercy rasped, the ghost of what had once been her heart hammering in her chest. She could feel the blood coursing through her veins, hear her own pulse pounding in her ears with an unnatural clarity. It was all wrong. Everything felt wrong. "I'm not a vampire. I can't be. You're wrong… mistaken... lying."

Adriana reached out, but Mercy recoiled, pressing herself back against the headboard. Her hands were trembling, her entire body shaking with disbelief. The gnawing hunger deep inside her now made sense, and it horrified her. She was hungry —ravenous for something she didn't even want to think about.

"Mercy, listen to me," Adriana said gently, her voice soft but urgent. "Hunter had no other choice. You were dying—your heart had stopped. The only way to save you was for him to… to turn you."

"Of course, he had a choice. You had a choice. You could have stopped him. Someone else—one of the other, more powerful shifters could have turned me…"

"Even the most powerful shifter can't bring you back from the dead," said Greg. "Adriana's right. If you were to live…"

Mercy's breath hitched, her stomach churning with nausea. She felt like she might throw up, but nothing came. Instead, a crushing sense of betrayal welled up inside her, twisting her gut like a knife.

She opened her mouth to scream, to shout at Adriana and Greg, but no words came out. A sob tore through her chest instead, and she clamped her hand over her mouth, shaking her head in disbelief.

The doctor cleared his throat awkwardly and stepped back. "I'll get Hunter," he said quietly, slipping out of the room before Adriana could respond.

Mercy barely registered his departure. Her entire world had shrunk down to the unbearable truth of what had been done to her. She wasn't herself anymore. She wasn't alive anymore.

Adriana stood helplessly at her side; her hands clenched together as she watched Mercy struggle with the truth. "I know this is a lot to take in," she murmured. "But you're still here. You're still Mercy."

"No, I'm not," Mercy snapped, her voice breaking as fresh tears spilled down her cheeks. "I'm not. I'm not me ."

Before Adriana could respond, the door to the medical unit flew open with a crash, and Hunter burst into the room, his eyes wild with urgency. He crossed the room in an instant, his gaze locking onto Mercy's tear-streaked face as he reached her side.

"I felt your distress," Hunter said, his voice hoarse, laced with a mixture of concern and regret. "I felt it through the bond."

Mercy's eyes burned with unshed tears as she turned to him, her body trembling with rage. "The bond?" she spat, her voice cracking. "You mean the bond that shouldn't exist because I should be dead ? Is that what you mean, Hunter?"

Hunter flinched, pain flashing in his eyes, but he didn't back down. "Mercy, please. I wouldn't have done it without your consent. You have to understand, there was no time. You were dying—dead, and I couldn't let you go."

"You—you couldn't let me go? So, this is about you? You couldn't lose me, so instead you chose to bring me back when so many others—brave warriors and innocents—died. You did this for you, not for me. I would rather be dead!" Mercy cried; her voice raw with anguish. "I would rather you had let me die than become this—this creature!"

The silence that followed her outburst was suffocating. Hunter's face fell, his shoulders sagging as the weight of her words hit him. He took a step back, his hands curling into fists at his sides.

"I didn't have a choice," Hunter said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. "I couldn't lose you."

Mercy's chest heaved as she stared at him, something inside her pounding with a mixture of fury and grief. She wanted to lash out, to hit him, to scream at him for taking away her life—her humanity. But deep down, beneath the anger, there was something else—a flicker of pain, of understanding. She knew why he had done it. She knew he had believed it was the only way.

But that didn't make it any easier to accept.

Her voice was quiet now, hollow. "You should have let me go."

Hunter's face twisted in anguish, but he didn't say anything. He just stood there, his eyes filled with guilt and sorrow, but no regret.

Mercy turned away, her body curling in on itself as the weight of everything crashed down on her. The gnawing hunger still pulsed inside her, a constant reminder of what she had become. She wanted to scream, to cry, to break something—anything—to release the overwhelming grief and anger that threatened to consume her.

But instead, she felt numb. Cold.

She had always feared and despised vampires. Now she was one.

Hunter took a tentative step forward, his voice low and broken. "Mercy, I?—"

"Get out," Mercy whispered, her voice shaking. "Just… get out."

Hunter hesitated. "I love you. I've never said that to anyone before." His pain was evident in his eyes. But after a long, agonizing moment, he turned and left the room, the door closing softly behind him.

Mercy lay back in the bed, staring up at the ceiling, the weight of her new reality crushing down on her. She had been saved, but at what cost?