His Dark Mercy By Amethyst Moonn Novels & Stories

I flinched. But even as I wanted to argue, Theo’s face—the tight jaw, the way his fists trembled—came back sharper than any words I could form. “I…” My throat locked. Damien’s smirk curved. “Exactly.” His hand tilted my chin up, forcing my gaze to his. “Stop torturing yourself with fantasies of knights. They’ll never survive in the dark. But I…” His voice dropped lower, dangerous. “I am the dark. And I’ll make sure no one can take you from me.”

I reach the control platform only to find my stepmother Leah waiting for us in a physical, fully restored form, her eyes glowing with a dark, artificial alpha power that hums with sickening synthetic energy. She reveals that Dawn Mercer used his dark magic to bond her soul to a new, synthetic host body made of star-metal and dark magic. Her face bears a chilling, porcelain perfection that defies human biology, while her limbs flex with terrifying, unnatural speed under the tailored fabric of her dark travelling cloak. "You thought a little frost-lily and a mountain trick would rid you of me forever, stepdaughter?" she sneers, her voice carrying a metallic echo that rattles the control panels

Xane’s frantic warning slammed into her mind across the tether a fraction of a second too late. Mercy spun around, raising her left blade to parry, but the Stalker’s speed was unnatural. It lunged forward, its jagged, dark-enchanted bone blade thrusting straight for her heart. The strike missed her chest by an inch as Mercy twisted her body, but the dark blade bit deep into her side. A sharp, agonizing burn tore through her ribs. The bone-blade was coated in black Scourge venom—an ancient anti-magic toxin that instantly ignited across her bloodstream like liquid ice.

She wasn’t entirely sure, but one thing for certain was that Bjorn was sincere in offering support. Now he climbed up the steps with a look of deep concern on his face. He had been to Delphine’s Crystal Emporium to speak with the Pendergast’s family soothsayer, Mr. Rosewood. Only billionaires keep soothsayers on their payroll, and Bjorn had been tasked with saving Chelsea from the werewolf’s curse. Unfortunately, Bjorn had been stricken with lycanthropy himself. What were they going to do now? Bjorn sat down on the top step and Chelsea leaned forward in her patio chair to stroke his shoulder. “Chelsea, the moon will be full on Thursday night. We only have two days to prepare for it.”

The Architecture of Calculated Pity Seraphina's POV The sudden plunge into total darkness was accompanied by the heavy, mechanical thud of emergency iron blast doors sealing the auction auditorium. Panic erupted across the room, wealthy investors shouting, chairs scraping violently against the floor, and phones lighting up like frantic fireflies in a tomb. Before the backup generators could kick in, a sudden, blinding amber flare ignited near the auxiliary exit. In the stark, flickering light of the flare stood Julian Vance Clair.

I pressed my palm against the frost, offering not a code, but the raw, unshielded grief of a wife losing her husband. "You want to know what mercy is?" I whispered to the Heir. "It’s the debt that never asks to be paid. It’s the love that stays even when the credit is gone." The black ice didn't shatter. It wept. The frost began to melt, the iridescent liquids in the vials surrounding us beginning to glow with a blinding, golden light. The Custodian’s eyes snapped open—not silver, but a brilliant, human green. The holographic Heir screamed, his image fracturing into a thousand jagged pieces. The violet light of the coin turned into a searing, golden flame that consumed the metal in my hand.

Amora woke up with her cheek pressed against a floor of solid, polished black volcanic glass. The room was massive, shaped like the inside of a hollow tower. High above, there were no windows, only jagged tears in the stone roof that revealed a sky of permanent, twisting gray clouds. This was the dark heart of the northern peaks, the absolute center of the Dark Moon territory. Amora tried to push herself up, but a sharp, burning pain flared across her wrists and ankles.

He didn’t tell her that after drinking her blood. Amelia could almost feel his dejection. “Thank you,” she said with gratitude, even more determined not to get played by her emotions, by the feelings he was able to stir within her. But the same feelings were stirred when she was with Vargauz. Though he never affected her on the base level. She never felt his emotions. She looked at his face to understand the emotions. She heaved a long breath and looked over her left shoulder. “I want to go back to my chamber,” she said as she stared at a huge painting that was hanging right over the bed. It was a painting of a stunning woman whose skin glowed like a star. Her golden tresses were like sunshi

A dark light surrounds us, a man whom I don’t know is pulling me away from Harold’s body. “You cannot do that guardian!” he is shouting at me; I wave my hand and gave him a blinding light, he was gone. Is he a Redeemer too? How come I don’t know who he is?

"In the darkness there's light, the Underworld has come to life. Human bows to death, Souls were tied by a thread. Fated to live together, their love was sacred forever. Gazes by the amethyst eyes, rays of silver lights. The beauty marks its back, A moon in a form of black. Born in the east of the Ruler, destined to meet this lover. The darkness has found its light, shining on its day so bright. The one who she vowed with, the epitome of the strongest wind. The Monarch's center moon in the cosmos, bestowed to stay with him in this chaos." I held my breath as I call the system from my headspace. "What's happening?" It seems like he's also panicking with the sudden change of plot.