Both figuratively and physically, she was choking, flashes of blood, of fire, and of Noah's dead body circling her brain like an endless and cruel carousel. She rode on this ride of horror, reliving the moment over and over and over again. It happened so fast, and she had used her magic without hesitation, hoping to help.

Yet she only made things considerably worse.

She gasped, feeling freezing water fill her throat and lungs. It was a shocking difference to the fire that surrounded her just moments ago in the bayou, and she grew disoriented, twisting and spazzing to try and figure out where the surface was. It felt like a never-ending sea of darkness, but she could see a distant light in the middle of it all, and she swam toward it.

Panic consumed her; would she even make it? Did she want to? The guilt of Noah was plaguing her like a sickness, and each second that passed was an excruciating reminder that she was alive, and he was dead. She was the murderer, and he was nothing but a victim that unnecessarily stumbled across her path. She had his blood all over her hands, and it belonged there. She almost wanted to stop in the water, and let the drowning swallow her, but something deep inside wouldn't allow it. Perhaps it was self-preservation, but Mercy had a feeling that it was connected to something else.

She pushed her arms against the water. Her lungs were on fire, and spots danced across her vision like graceful ballerinas. Between them, she saw the hole of light, so similar to the circle of the full moon in the bayou, and she reached toward it weakly.

She gasped and spluttered, choking on the water as her hair stuck to her face. It wasn't cold when she pulled herself out, but the freezing waters had chilled her to the bone. She wrapped her arms around herself and fell out of the hole onto her side, teeth chattering together loudly. Her chest heaved, getting as much oxygen into her system as was humanly possible. She pressed her right temple into the ground, fluttering her eyes open to try and understand where, exactly, she was.

She had been in pain, remembering the turning and how badly it hurt when her arm and leg cracked and reformed the structure there. She remembered the circle of fire separating her from Lucy and Caesar Day. She remembered that they were turning under the moon as well. She remembered Noah's unmoving body. Noah...

She sat up, and immediately felt lightheaded. She laid a hand on the ground, bending her knees in order to rest her forehead against them. She tried to focus on her breathing, but it was shaking with each inhale. Her entire body trembled, and Mercy clenched her eyes shut, wishing that everything she remembered had been some kind of sick nightmare.

"Mercy Mikaelson," a whisper of a voice drifted into her hearing range, and she sat up straight again, thankful that the spots didn't return. Her eyes narrowed, suddenly on high alert even as her body continued its shaking.

She glanced around, seeing that she sat in tall grass, feeling one of the twigs tickle the tops of her arms. The hole she had climbed out of was set into the ground, but rocks surrounded it like a gateway. The grass almost hid her entire body when sitting on the ground, and she stood up slowly, hoping to get a better look of more than just the floor.

She shifted from foot to foot, glancing around to see that the field she sat in extended for miles, disappearing into the horizon without an end. The grass wasn't green, but a golden bronze color, tanned by the sunlight. However, the sun wasn't out now, and the sky was draped in a blanket of night; the stars looked brighter here, and there were clusters of them that she had never seen before in the real world. Wherever she was, it was extremely beautiful, and she couldn't help her momentary awe that caused her jaw to drop.

The sky was painted with blues and greens and blacks and browns and every color she could think of. It was like seeing one of those pictures of the universe in the science books she used for school, but in person. The stars drifted between the colors, and while she was looking up, she saw one of the stars rear up and shoot across the sky like a blazing arrow of fire.

"Come forward, Mercy Mikaelson," that voice spoke again, and she jumped, turning around to see a large oak tree in front of her that hadn't been there a moment before. The trunk was thick and old, and Mercy felt power coming off of it in large waves. The bark of the wood disappeared as the canopy of leaves fell over the top, covering the tree like a hat. A breeze passed by, ruffling her hair, but the leaves remained still, untouched by the wind.

Mercy felt afraid, and hesitated against the pulling sensation she was feeling; she wanted to go forward, to walk to the tree, but she was still shaking. She couldn't get the images out of her head of Noah and his parents, and her fists clenched at her sides.

Abruptly, she gasped, stumbling back as a familiar green light shot from her chest. Her hand came up to rub at the spot, and by the time she looked up, the older woman stood in front of Mercy, her face sad.

The little girl felt tears coming to her eyes at seeing the face of someone that made her feel safe, like the world wouldn't be able to hurt her anymore. "Akela," she cried, rushing forward to crash against the woman's torso. Akela's hands, still covered in many jewels and silver bracelets, wrapped around Mercy's form to hold the child close as she sobbed. "Please tell me it wasn't real. Please tell me it was all just a dream and I'm going to wake up."

Akela's face looked pained and so incredibly sad. "I'm sorry, young warrior," she spoke clearer than Mercy ever heard. She never realized how muffled the woman sounded before, but now it was like her voice had emerged from under the very same water that Mercy just escaped from. Akela bent down, looking into Mercy's eyes with pity. "I cannot aid your request."

Mercy shook her head, biting her lip so hard that she could taste the iron of blood on her tongue. "No..." She breathed, shaking her head in denial. When she glanced at the woman, her eyes spoke of such an intense pain that even Akela was shocked by. The little girl looked at her with confusion, like she was lost. "Why did you do this to me? Why me?"

Akela smiled a gentle smile. "You are the only one who can take this kind of pain," she responded slowly. "You'll find that being a wolf is both beautiful and agonizing. And being the bridge between the wolf ancestors and the wolves who are alive now heightens everything that makes you one of us. As such, your pain is painful, and it will be difficult to bear it." Mercy looked at the ground, and Akela watched as droplets formed on the dirt from her tears. The woman placed a hand on the girl's shoulders, sighing deeply. "However, you were born to this fate. You were not chosen unwisely, Mercy." The child stared at Akela, remaining still even as the older wolf reached forward and brushed her hair back in the same way that her mother usually did. "You have done things that many adults could never handle. You have shown strength, and loyalty, and courage in ways that no wolf has ever done before. You are the Marked Child. And the ancestors did not choose you in haste."

Mercy opened her mouth to respond, maybe to ask more questions, but she was cut off. "Wolf Warrior, step toward us," the voice echoed once more. It was a deep voice, and it was layered, similar to how Mercy's own voice would sound when the wolves were speaking though her. But this voice was different than that; it was deep in its tone, and it was also deep in vibration, as if she could feel the very ground shake with the words. Surprisingly, the voice wasn't loud though. It was almost too quiet, barely reaching her ears in a soft whisper of the wind.

Mercy looked to Akela—who had stood up—in desperation. "What is that?" She asked shakily, and Akela turned toward the girl, smiling whimsically.

"It is great power," she explained. "When the three packs formed the Council of Wolves and created those werewolf books you have now, each pack chose a part of the werewolf life to honor and praise. They became our gods. They were the reason we were able to use magic as wolves in the first place." She raised a hand to the tree, and Mercy could see the leaves in the front of it parting like a curtain, calling to her. "We could use the power of naturally occurring phenomenons like the alignment of planets or the full moon with their help. And despite the wolves having forgotten our magical heritage, their power flows through us still, guiding our instincts and helping us turn."

"Why three?" Mercy asked suddenly, surprised by herself that she had even spoken at all. "The Hollow told us there were four original packs, but there's only ever been three on the Council and three books. Where did the fourth pack go?"

Akela nodded. "You're correct," she agreed with the child, and Mercy tilted her head in interest. "The last pack was the one Inadu belonged to. While the guardians of her bone were scattered, the rest of her pack separated and joined the three others. They were afraid that the Hollow would return and take her revenge on them. This is why we have three now."

Mercy nodded, slowly becoming calmer as she pushed her pain aside. She needed the distraction. "Why are we here?" She finally questioned, figuring out that the answer was what Akela was slowly leading up to.

The woman didn't hesitate in turning to the child with yet another sad look. "Your turning is followed by meeting these powers," she explained. "You cannot continue with your destiny until you've gained their blessings. I had hoped that we would have more time to train for such a rite of passage, but, unfortunately, time was not on our side." She nodded her head toward the tree once more, her soft smile returning. "Go on. I know they'll adore you."

Mercy shook her head, not wanting to leave the woman. "Where will you go?" She asked, grabbing onto the woman's wrist as if she would disappear at any moment. When it came to Akela, she never knew, but the woman only placed her hand over Mercy's fingers.

"Where you go, I cannot follow," she said with complete seriousness. "Out of all the wolves who have met the First Powers, you are one of two. It is a great honor, but it is one I cannot share with you. This is your journey, alone."

"I'm scared," Mercy whispered and she was. She didn't know what was happening and why it was happening all so quickly. She just wanted to go to sleep and refuse to wake up until everything was fixed, but the universe didn't seem to have the same plans for her.

Akela shook her head from side to side, prying Mercy's grip from her arm. "Don't be," she reassured. "You are ready. I could've trained you for another century, but it wouldn't have mattered. They don't look at what you've done, but who you are. And you, Mercy Mikaelson, are a wolf, through and through." She sent the little girl a quick wink. "Don't let them forget it either."

Mercy moved forward to argue, but Akela was already fading, and the girl's eyes widened. "Akela!" She shouted, but the woman shook her head.

The same green sparkles returned to outline her body, twinkling like the stars above them. "Be true, my child," she whispered before the green light gathered itself up into a ball and vanished from sight. Mercy's heart sank, and she was alone once more.

Or at least, almost alone. She angled her body toward the tree and the opening that was still pulled apart. A bright light emitted from the inside, escaping the boundaries of the tree like silk slipping through tiny fingers. Mercy swallowed deeply, but she remembered Akela, and she pushed her fear down. She pushed away any other thought but of what was happening right here and right now. She couldn't think of anything else without the risk of breaking down in the grass once more. She had to keep moving, and so after a deep breath of air, she did just that.

She approached the tree and felt the vibrations coming off of it grow stronger with each step. Her body trembled again, but she ignored it, focusing on the light that was getting closer and closer.

And then, for a split second, she was the light. It poured into her with blinding force and left just as abruptly, leaving her confused and drunk off of it.

"Mercy Mikaelson, step forth," a voice commanded, and her head whirled up at the sound, finding that she stood in a completely different scene than she had before. The sudden transitions from place to place were making her dizzy if she was being honest with herself.

She stood in a round room, the walls and the floors covered in interweaving vines. The green was startling after being in the golden grass just a moment ago, but she could see small, white flowers growing here and there among the foliage. They were bloomed fully, and some petals even drifted down from the high ceiling. At the motion, Mercy glanced up, seeing that there was a hole in the center of the roof. From this opening, she could see the moon clearly, full and blinding as it was in the real world. The light from it fell across the floor of the room, and she saw that it covered a large chart of the moon's phases. It was ethereal and beautiful, and Mercy forgot about all her worries that had encompassed her only a moment ago.

She looked past the chart on the floor to see a platform at the end of the large room. On this podium were three giant chairs: thrones, each one of them different and unique. The one on the right was a deep red with gold accents running across the seams of the arms. The back of the chair was covered in white dots, but as she looked closer, she could see that they weren't dots at all; they were stars, and they were moving across the chair, like a time-lapsed video of the sky. It was captivating, as was the person who sat there. It was a dark haired man with piercing black eyes; she had to look away from them quickly, feeling his ancient power suffocating her. He wore a pitch black cloak as well, but she could see that the lining inside of the piece of clothing was the same red color as his throne. His skin held an olive tan, and his features were sharp as he draped an arm on the chair's armrest, contemplating her.

The throne on the left side was completely different. It was packed-down dirt instead of an actual chair, but it didn't look any less foreboding than the first one. The bottom of the throne was covered in leaves, and as her eyes rose, the leaves began spacing themselves apart, revealing the dirt below. On the back of the chair, rocks were pressed into the dirt, outlining the top of the throne like a crown. The man that sat there was dark-skinned, with shockingly green hair. It was a deep green, and, as she looked closer, she could see that the colors shifted, changing from a lighter tone to a darker one every few moments. She saw that his eyes were a pretty golden color. It wasn't the same golden shade as werewolf eyes, but instead it was as if the color brown had been lightened and buffed to shine like maple syrup. He wore a simple white tunic that was also stitched with green yarn. The clothing fell below his knees, revealing bare feet that crossed over one another.

And the last chair was the middle one. Placed slightly higher than the other two, Mercy felt her breath get caught in her throat at the beauty of what she saw. The chair was completely clear and glittered like diamonds, reflecting against the walls around them in a parade of rainbows. The back of the chair had simple carvings cut into it, and Mercy noticed one of these carvings in the middle that looked very similar to the moon. Sat here was a woman with surprisingly white hair; Mercy was briefly reminded of Lucy Day's hair, but she brushed that thought away. This color was more silver than that of Lucy's, more translucent. The woman in front of her had hair that fell to her hips in smooth waves, and a golden circlet of a crown sat on her head, wrapping itself around the woman's forehead. Her eyes were piercing white as well, and she wore a golden dress that glittered in the same way that the chair did.

"Hm," the dark-skinned man hummed, but Mercy heard it and glanced in his direction. "You've come to us much earlier than we expected you to." His voice was deep, but calm, and Mercy felt herself unconsciously relax in his presence.

"She's but a child!" The other man, the one with the red throne, rolled his eyes. "She's too young for this role. There must be some kind of mistake!"

"Our Spirits don't make mistakes," the woman silenced them both with her commanding voice. However, a smile graced her lips a second later. "She must be a very special child if they think she is ready to meet with us."

"Or they're backed into a corner and need our help, again," the red throne man reminded her with a wave of his hand. "We don't know if she has earned her right to be here or not. She can't have possibly killed already. Look at her."

Mercy pursed her lips tightly, feeling annoyance bubble up inside of her at their bickering. "I'm standing right here, if you forgot," she spoke up, gaining the attention of all three adults. Their gazes turned from each other toward her, and she could feel each of their stares like they weighed a million pounds. "If you need to ask me something, just say it."

She saw a wide grin appear on the woman's face, but the red throne man glared, and the remaining of the three only looked at her in mild interest. She shifted under their looks, but she didn't take back the words, knowing that it would be seen as weakness when she was trying her absolute best to appear strong and unrelenting.

"Well then, brothers, I think we should listen to the girl," the woman spoke wryly, tilting her chin to Mercy. "Come forward, young one, and let us determine if you are worthy of your title."

Hesitating for just a split second, Mercy moved, coming to a standstill under the light of the full moon. She stood on top of the chart of the moon's phases on the ground. She felt like she was on trial, and, in a way, she supposed she was.

Once she stepped into the middle of the room, she felt a sweeping sensation from under her, as if she were standing on a beach and the waves were crashing down around her feet. It was a push and pull feeling, but Mercy tried her best to remain still.

The woman on the throne leaned forward, her eyes lighting up. "You have been through much," she said, looking over Mercy as if she could see everything that the child had ever done. Mercy was reminded of Akela's words, and she wondered how they were able to see her life so easily.