Mercy X Reaper Novels & Stories

The rest of the senior mentors form a tight semicircle, their hands glowing with dark magic and elemental fire that rains down upon the monster’s head. The battle is a brutal display of roars and flying blood, but I can barely process it. I am trapped on the ground, my hands clawing weakly at the dirt as every single movement sends a fresh wave of white-hot agony through my chest. My ribs are definitely broken, making every shallow breath feel like inhaling glass. With one final surge of magic from Damon and a devastating neck snap from Ravenna’s jaws, the Reaper finally collapses into the mud with a thud. The creature’s shaggy form ripples, the monstrous features dissolving away until a tal

“It’s okay. I’m just glad you’re safe.” “I’m trying. That’s all I can promise right now. I’m trying.” I want to believe him so badly it makes my chest ache. But I’ve been here before too many times to let myself hope without reservation. I’ve watched him get clean and relapse and get clean again enough times that I’ve learned to protect myself from the crash when it comes. “Just keep trying. That’s all any of us can do.” Another pause, longer this time. “Mara said you’re working live-in now. Some rich family.”

“That was the mess you made.” Avery swallowed hard. “I didn’t—I couldn’t—he was begging me. I couldn’t just rip him out like—like he was nothing.” “You’re not human anymore,” the reaper snapped. Their voice was sharp enough to cut. “You don’t get the luxury of mercy. You hesitated. You lost him. And now that soul is gone, devoured, because you couldn’t do your damn job.” The words hit harder than the truck ever had. Avery flinched. Their stomach churned. “So what, this is my life now? Stealing people out of their bodies before they’re ready?”

he murmurs. Rolling my eyes I cross my arms leaning back in my chair, “care to share with the class?” He presses his palms together and asks, “son, have you ever heard of the Reapers?” I frown, “No. What is a Reaper?” He leans over, “so when you die, the Reaper is the one who severs your bond from this world that lets you move onto the next. For us back to the Moon Goddess. They are curious beings and only those who have seen traumatic death can see them. I’m sure there is one in our pack right now, waiting for someone to die. They are nearly untraceable and hold no allegiances to anyone but their task. Sever the bond, let the soul move on.”

she murmurs. “No,” I answer. “I just had something worth protecting.” She nods slightly and we stand in silence for a long moment, two women connected by sins neither of us asked for. Finally, she steps closer, the distance between us feels like the final page of a very long book. “I'm sorry, Mira," she says. “For the fear, the cameras, the hatred. For trying to replace you in a life that was never meant to be mine.” her eyes shine. “I don't want your forgiveness. I just want you to be free of me.”

“Is that all you wanna fucking remember? What about me telling you to stay the fuck away from me? That didn’t stick?” Her face puffed up. I could see her all so familiar rage returning and I knew she would have hit me with that stupid bat of hers if she could. “Why the fuck was someone like you even around me when I was five?!” Jesus fucking Christ. “Someone like me?” “You are called the Reaper King, so you’re not a fucking saint either,” She yelled. “What? You think being in this club changes all the terrible things you’ve done? Or taking care of the president’s orphaned daughter abstains you? You’re a fucking hypocrite. The fact that I’m such a raging bitch is because you’re a—”

“And you’re his Thorn, so you’re my daughter too, if you want it.” The face in her chest snarls. “Don’t listen, you’re mine, I made you.” Mercy touches the glass. “You, made, prison.” She makes a fist. The glass cracks. The face screams. “Stop, you’ll die, the implants—” “I, choose,” Mercy says. She punches through her own chest. Blood, black and red, sprays. She pulls Gerald’s preserved head out, wires snapping. It gasps, then goes still.

"The Sovereign is currently being processed at the base of this mountain. He is... remarkably stubborn. He keeps repeating your name as if it were a firewall." "Let him go," I demanded, stepping toward the pillar of black ice. "I’m here. We’re in the Vault. Take what you want and leave him his soul." "I cannot 'take' mercy, Seraphina," the Heir replied, his image flickering. "Mercy must be offered. It is the only transaction that requires a voluntary default. To save Xander Thorne, you must open the pillar and release the Custodian. But know this: the moment the ice breaks, the Mercy Vault will be liquidated into the global network. The irrationality of the past will be deleted, and the New

a rogue faction of the original tribe who had rejected the resonance ten thousand years ago to embrace the vacuum of the deep reach. The Reapers were a terrifying inversion of the Silver Crest evolution. Their skin was a dull, matte black that seemed to suck the light out of the binary suns, and their eyes were pits of absolute white, devoid of the gold ring of the healer or the silver flash of the king. They didn't carry staves of light; they carried "Abyssal Scythes," jagged weapons of void-steel that hummed with a frequency designed to drain the resonance from any living thing. "The harvest is here," the lead Reaper hissed, his voice a discordant harmony that vibrated painfully in our mar

Xavier mocked, following his chilling smile irritated the reaper. "I am here because of the mess you two have created in the hell. You two don't belong here. And don't play with the humans," Joseph, the reaper growled, looking at Xavier, and with one swish of his fingers, the environment changed to normal. No one did not feel something was wrong or suspicious, and the woman again started straddling Xavier. "Reaper, you are so biased. Next to you, the hell king is sitting and smoking leisurely. But you are putting your finger on me only," Xavier said, and teased the woman, rubbing her perked nipple with his finger.