turned in her sleep, plagued by nightmares of the dark. Sweat covered her body like a second skin, and her breaths came in and out faster and faster until she was almost hyperventilating.

Her parents, dead, at the hands of the Hollow. Her sister, her twin sister, taken control over by the one thing that they all sought to destroy. Her remaining family mourning. Mercy herself, heartache and pain consuming her very soul as she watched her family be torn apart.

She whimpered in her sleep, but just as quickly as the images came back to her, they left, and she found herself laying on her back in the forest, dried tears staining her face.

She sat up slowly, confused by where she was. When she saw a familiar face though, she relaxed, smiling softly at Akela.

"Oh, young warrior," the woman greeted as if she was in pain. Her face was contorted in pity as she bent down in front of the little girl, her fur coats swaying back and forth. She raised her hand and placed it on Mercy's cheek, and the young girl relished in the feeling of warmth that came from the contact. "You've been through so much so quickly."

Mercy shook her head, tears threatening to spill. "I shouldn't have done the spell," she cried. "You were right. What I saw was...awful."

Akela shook her head, her eyes crinkling as another smile settled over her lips. "I understand your grief, as well as your fear," she began, and Mercy raised her eyes to look at her face. "But it is this very fear that will give you strength."

"I don't understand," Mercy said. She felt like she was saying that a lot recently. "I thought I was supposed to protect all the wolves. How am I supposed to do that if I'm afraid?"

Akela sighed, coming to sit in a criss-crossed position in front of the child. Distantly, Mercy heard a twig snap, and she looked to her right to see wolves approaching them, their fur blending in with their surroundings. Mercy stared, understanding that these must be the other wolf ancestors in their most primal forms. They surrounded the two in a tight circle, and Mercy felt their presence comforting.

"You have a pure heart," Akela sighed, her expression turning stoic. "You care for your family, just as you care for the wolves. You fear for them, because you wish to see them safe. It is exactly this fear that will give you the strength to protect them, but be careful, little one," Mercy looked away from the other wolves back to the woman in front of her. "Opening your heart up like this will only give others a chance to break it."

"What do you mean?" She asked, but the woman only smiled sadly.

"Heartache from family is harsh, cruel even," she explained. "But you will find that heartache from the wolves will be much crueler. I can see what is to come, and I only wish that I could warn you, but the Council believes it must happen in order for you to truly understand your role in our community." She paused, leaning forward so close that Mercy felt she should pull away, but she couldn't, focusing on Akela's dark eyes. "I leave you with these words, my child: do not underestimate yourself, and do not underestimate others. Your love for people can become a weapon just as easily as it can become a weakness. Do not lose your focus. Do not forget your destiny."

Mercy gasped, sitting up straight in her bed, panting deeply. She placed a hand on her chest, feeling her heart race under her fingers.

Akela's words rang in her head, and Mercy almost wanted to scream at the vagueness the wolf ancestors spoke to her with. She didn't understand what they meant, but she realized that she would probably understand sooner rather than later. That thought made her nervous.

She let her legs hang off the edge of the bed, furrowing her eyebrows together when she smelled a sweet scent wafting up to her room. She slipped out of the bed, dressing quickly and ignoring her tangled hair before heading downstairs.

Her arms wrapped around her torso, still feeling the coldness that she felt yesterday, despite having slept completely through the night. She descended down the stairs silently, the smell growing stronger and making her stomach growl. She hadn't eaten for almost a full day, and as such, she was starving.

She entered the courtyard and widened her eyes at the table filled with sugar-coated pastries, a smile slowly spreading on her lips. At her arrival, both Klaus and Hope turned to her, and her father beamed.

"Mercy," he welcomed her, gesturing to an empty chair next to them. "Come join us, sweetheart."

She did so quietly, raising an eyebrow at the mountain of sugary substances. "Mom doesn't usually give us sweets for breakfast," she said, unsure if she should partake in the food despite being so hungry.

"Well then it's a good thing that your father does," he replied, and she giggled, watching Hope smile at the words too. The little girl shrugged, not seeing the harm in it, and grabbed a plate, moving to the table and reaching for the pastries.

Klaus fed one of the beignets to Hope, and she hummed at the taste. Mercy took a bite out of her own and almost melted at the deliciousness; she immediately began stuffing her face.

"Mm, it's so good!" Hope exclaimed, and Mercy nodded her head excitedly, already eating her second beignet.

Klaus looked to both of them then, raising an eyebrow in Mercy's direction. She realized that she was making a mess, but she didn't care, only shrugging as a response to her father's look. "Did I ever tell you the story of my first beignet?" He asked them, and they both shook their heads. "No?" He gasped in faux shock, standing up from his seat. "You are in for a treat."

"I think we have enough treats," Mercy said sarcastically, and her father chuckled. Thoughts of nightmares and wolves and enemies were slowly leaving Mercy's head, and for the moment, she enjoyed being with her family.

"Long ago, three French nuns came to New Orleans looking for a fresh start, and they came here," he began, pointing at the floor of the courtyard. Mercy set her plate to the side, her interest growing. She had to admit, her father was a good storyteller. "They marched right into our courtyard, and they presented your Uncle Elijah and me with these rather lumpy-looking sugar-coated pastries." He picked one of them up in his hand, and Mercy nodded, egging him on to continue. "Well, needless to say, we were entranced. We set them up quite well."

Mercy grinned, turning to Hope to see her twin's head tilted to the side. "Why did they come to you?" She questioned him, and Mercy looked back to their father, wondering the same thing.

He paused only for a moment. "Because there was a time when we were regarded as royalty," he explained, setting the beignet back down as he crouched in front of both of them. Mercy noticed the smile on his face. "You might even go so far as to say I was king, which would make both of you, princesses."

Hope giggled, but Mercy shook her head, jumping up from her seat and catching Klaus's attention. "I'd much rather be a warrior than a princess," she declared, making her father raise his eyebrows. She smirked in mischief, and Klaus couldn't help but be reminded of his younger brother. "I would rather save others than be the damsel in distress."

"Oh really?" He asked her, and she nodded confidently, her smirk growing as he stood up. "Well then, I suppose you'll have to practice your moves."

He scooped her up then, and Mercy squealed in surprise at the action, having not expected it. She laughed loudly as he tickled her under her arms and on her stomach, and she squirmed in his grasp, her laughs echoing through the courtyard. Hope jumped up, giggling as well at the sight.

"Okay, okay! Stop it!" Mercy begged through her laughs, and he eventually did, raising an eyebrow at her again.

"Oh? But I thought you were to be a warrior?" He asked, and she narrowed her eyes, accepting the unspoken challenge.

"I am a warrior," she said indignantly, and she took him by surprise as she twirled out of his arms, flipping onto the ground. When she looked up, she saw him looking at her, impressed, and her smirk widened.

"I wanna try!" Hope whined, and Klaus turned to her, but another presence entered the space.

"Good morning," their mother spoke, catching her children's attentions. She crossed her arms, looking at the mountain of sweets. "Well, I guess apple turnover is fruit."

"Well, I saw no harm in indulging our daughters' sweet tooth," he said simply, and Mercy reached for another one. "All things in moderation, of course."

"Okay," Hayley said, bending down in front of the two girls. "Don't eat too many, you'll get a stomachache." Mercy and Hope both nodded obediently, and Hayley turned to look at Klaus, her expression serious. "Can we talk?"

Mercy frowned as their parents left the room, wondering what they could be discussing. She glanced to her twin, seeing that Hope was looking downcast as well.

Deciding that she wanted to lift her sister's spirits, Mercy formed an idea. Acting quickly, she took the half-eaten beignet in her hand and threw it at Hope, causing sugar to puff up in a cloud and cover her hair. The girl gasped, turning to Mercy, who was smiling widely.

"Oh, it's on," Hope responded, and the girls launched into their respective battle attacks. They ran around the table, laughing like mad as they threw the beignets at each other, staining their clothes and skin.

Mercy felt like a kid again, without worries of the end of her family and without fear of the monsters that hid in the night. She enjoyed chasing after her twin and running away as well, the two girls finding solace in the fun they were having. They hadn't been able to play like this since they arrived in New Orleans, and if Mercy didn't know better, she would've thought they were still at their old house, running through the trees together.

She wanted it to last forever.

>

Mercy and Hope were forced to take showers after their mom found them covered in sugar, and the girls happily complied, washing the sweetness off of their bodies.

They had braided each other's wet hair after the shower, but now Mercy sat on the bed alone, gazing at her hands in her lap.

If she closed her eyes, she could feel her, the Hollow, so close—too close—to being reborn back to flesh and blood. She could feel it in the air just as she had felt the witch ancestors when their link was restored. She could feel the ancient magic, as thick as molasses, hanging around her, and just like always, she felt the cold. She wondered how the old spirit would make her ambitious return, but then her thoughts filtered back to the warning in the wolf book.

It had stated that should the Hollow rise, the Original family will fall, and Mercy's skin prickled with anticipation. At this point, she wouldn't be surprised if the Hollow achieved her goal, but that didn't lessen the fear Mercy had for her family and for the wolves, knowing that the Hollow was using them for her own agenda.

She thought back to Akela, remembering how she had told the young girl to appreciate this fear, but it was hard. If she focused too much on the images she had been shown from the spell, she would break down completely. Her family's possible deaths plagued her thoughts, and she let out a shaky breath, wondering how she could possibly follow Akela's suggestions to use her fear against the Hollow.

She raised her head when she heard a door open and close, looking toward the open threshold of her and Hope's shared room. She slipped off the bed when she heard her twin's voice.

"Mom?" Hope asked, and Mercy exited the room to stand behind her, seeing their mother leaning on a bed's mattress, appearing exhausted. She gripped the sheets as if she would fall off the earth at any second, and her connection to the bed would be the only thing to hold on to.

Hayley straightened her stance, glancing at the twin girls. "Hope, Mercy," she said softly. "I didn't see you both there."

Hope looked at their mom, and Mercy frowned, unaware of what was happening that made their mother look so tired.

"Uncle Elijah is sick, isn't he?" Hope asked, and Mercy's heart skipped a beat. She saw a flash in her mind of their Uncle Elijah, dead at the hands of the Hollow. The image felt too real, too raw, and Mercy gripped the hem of her shorts.

Hayley paused, coming around the foot of the bed to sit on the bench there, holding her arms out for her two girls. The twins walked forward, and Hayley held on to both of their hands. "Uncle Elijah is very sick," she whispered, and Mercy's heart quickened.

"Well, can we help him?" Hope asked curiously, and Mercy bit her lip.

"Is he going to be okay?" The younger twin questioned, and Hayley looked to Mercy, her eyes portraying exactly what Mercy feared the most.

Her mother had absolutely no idea how to answer the question.

Instead, she looked back to Hope. "We're doing everything we can," she said quietly. "I promise."

"Maybe Mercy and I could help Aunt Freya with a spell to make him feel better," Hope suggested, and Mercy turned to their mom, gauging her reaction to the idea.

"That's very brave of you," Hayley told her, running a hand against the side of her daughter's head. She looked to Mercy, but the little girl was staring at the ground. Hayley moved her other hand to Mercy's arm, and the girl looked up. Their mother brought them both in for a tight hug, and Mercy closed her eyes, afraid of what would happen by tonight.

She worried for her uncle, and she knew her sister did as well, but she didn't know what to do about it. Their parents left them soon after, and Keelin, a werewolf that was close with their Aunt Freya, began playing jacks with Hope. Mercy watched them for a few moments before she too left the room, roaming the halls of the house.

Soon though, she longed for fresh air, feeling as if the building was suffocating her. Mercy decided to return to the attic, trying to ignore the ominous feeling as she saw the remnants of her spell on the ground. She walked to the window, straining against the latch until it finally opened out to the cool night air.

She climbed outside, scaling the scallops of the roof so that she sat on top of the house, facing out toward the flickering lights of the city.

She liked it up here, she realized. The familiar feeling of the wind coursing through her hair made her think of home, of climbing trees, and building her treehouse. She could see the entire city from this height, but she found herself staring out toward the darkness of the bayou, feeling that pull in her stomach again.

She yearned to go, to visit Noah and ask him about his parents. After seeing Caesar and Lucy Day in the many images shown in the spell, Mercy found her suspicion of them growing. However, she knew that if anything was happening with them, Noah deserved to know, and he could even tell her if they had been acting strange recently. Noah barely knew his parents so it would be a stretch that he would notice any weird behavior, but she didn't have any other ideas.

She felt the bond in her stomach connecting herself to the wolves pulse with energy, as if knowing that she was thinking of them.

She abruptly heard someone enter the attic, the sound drifting up to her ears from the open window. She shifted in interest, looking down. As she did, a head popped out of the window frame, and she recognized the face of her father.

"What are you doing up there?" He asked, and she heard worry in his voice as he leaned farther out. "Come inside, sweetheart."

Mercy didn't move though, her gaze returning back to the landscape of New Orleans. "I like it up here," is all she said to him. There was a long pause when she heard him sigh softly to himself. Then, her head whirled toward him as she watched her father climb out of the window and toward where she sat now. She moved slightly to the side to leave room for him, but otherwise, both of them were silent.

He came to sit next to her, and Mercy felt his closeness. She suddenly realized that the same pull in her stomach that reached out to the wolves was felt now, near her father. She remembered talking with him about the wolves and realized that though he may be a thousand years old and was a vampire much longer than he was a werewolf, the wolf blood still ran in his veins nonetheless. Mercy's role as lou gèrye extended even to her father, because despite his age and experience, he was still a wolf, and therefore, he was still one of the people that Mercy would grow up to protect.

She wanted to laugh at the idea of her father actually allowing her to protect him. It seemed surreal, and from what she knew of him, she knew that he would never accept the help.

Still, it was a comforting thought, realizing that although he was a vampire, he remained a wolf, with the same wildness that flowed through her body inside of him.

He gazed out to the view that she stared at, raising an eyebrow at what he saw. "It's quite lovely up here," he agreed to her earlier statement. His eyes returned to her face, but Mercy avoided his curiosity, finding that the lights of New Orleans were much more interesting to look at. "Although, that doesn't explain why I've found you climbing the roof. Is something wrong?"

Mercy was silent for a long moment, and she briefly wondered if she could even find the right words, but eventually she sighed heavily. She could hear the concern lacing his question, and despite all the feelings Mercy was experiencing from the spell, she felt that she owed her father at least an explanation on her behavior.

"It's strange isn't it?" She asked instead, and she was amused to see that she had thrown him off guard. "Our family, the first family of immortals... destined to be killed by the one thing I'm supposed to destroy."

He opened his mouth to speak, more than likely ready to argue with her about their untimely deaths, but she looked at his face then, silencing his words before they were spoken. Her eyes were vividly green in the moonlight, he realized, and Klaus wondered if he would ever get the color right if he decided to paint it.