CHAPTER 34 — MERCY CALLS
Psalm 34: 18 (NIV)
"The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.
Psalm 86:5 (NIV)
"For You, Lord, are forgiving and good; abounding in love to all who call to You."
The night in Mahogany did not sleep.
It breathed.
Elena was the first to turn toward the door.
The after-prayer quiet had softened into that tender warmth that always came when the villagers prayed with one heart.
But this glow on the threshold wasn't from lantern or candle.
It was from the boundary itself.
"A shift," she murmured.
Ashley stepped up beside her, hands trembling just slightly.
She knew what Elena felt — the whisper of someone outside the line.
Someone hurt.
"Is it her?" Ashley asked.
"Yes," Elena said softly. "And she bleeds."
A murmur spread through the villagers who lingered at the pews.
Micah leaned harder on his staff.
Evelyn pressed her palms together in prayer.
Regbolo moved instinctively closer to Ashley, ready without being told.
None of them knew Kaelith, but they knew what witches used to be.
They knew how Teuwa had ended.
They knew what mercy demanded, and how costly it was.
"Should we drive her away?" someone whispered.
Elena shook her head gently.
"Not tonight."
The words struck Ashley harder than she expected.
Not tonight.
Not drive her away.
Not punish her.
Mercy.
Always mercy.
Her throat tightened.
Her hands grew cold — the old instinct of obedience, of witchcraft discipline, twisting her gut.
"She came for me," Ashley whispered.
"She came to kill or drag me back. If she crosses that line, Elena—"
"She cannot cross," Elena reminded her.
"Not while the light holds."
Ashley swallowed. "Then… what do we do?"
"We answer."
Ashley stared. "With what?"
Elena turned toward the boundary, the Canticle held close.
"With what the world has forgotten," she said.
"Compassion without permission.
__
Kaelith knelt in the shadows beneath a mahogany tree, clutching her burned hand against her chest. The pain was sharp, bright, and humiliating. She had failed three times to cross a line no one could see and no spell could name.
"What curse is this," she muttered through her teeth.
"What god claims this soil?"
The air answered with warmth, not malice.
A warmth that felt… familiar.
She hated how it made her throat tighten.
Hated how it softened the edges of her fury.
Hated how it felt like forgiveness she had never asked for.Kaelith knelt just beyond the glowing circle, breath shallow, cloak heavy with dust and humiliation.
The golden line pulsed once more — slow, warm, deliberate — like a living heartbeat pressed against the edge of night.
She flinched from it at first…
then found she could not look away.
"What… are you?" she whispered.
Her burned palm throbbed in rhythm with the light.
For the first time in years, she felt small.
Not powerless — something deeper — like a child who has stumbled into a memory she was never meant to forget.
A strange heat blurred her eyes.
"I don't…" she muttered, shaking her head.
"I don't want this."
But the warmth didn't judge or pull.
It simply stayed — a silent invitation.
A soft golden halo still traced the village boundary, pulsing like a slow heartbeat. People returned to their homes, speaking in gentle tones, careful not to disturb the peace they barely understood. The air smelled of pine and warm earth. Inside The Living Word, the last lantern was being snuffed out when Elena stepped into the open field.
Ashley followed, quiet as a shadow that had learned not to cling.
They stood before the faint curve of the boundary — a line of light drawn by unseen mercy.
"Feel that?" Elena asked.
Ashley nodded. "Warm. Like it's alive."
"It is," Elena said. "Not in the way witchcraft lives, hungry and restless. This warmth waits. It watches."
Ashley hesitated, the memory of Kaelith's voice — her Matron's orders — stirring in her bones. "You said someone is wounded out there."
Elena's gaze lifted toward the treeline.
"She is."
Ashley's breath caught. "She came to kill me. Or take me back."
"Yes," Elena answered, as if that changed nothing.
"Mercy isn't blind. But it refuses to be cruel."
Ashley stared at her a long moment, stunned by how simple the girl made difficult things sound.
A breeze passed through the trees — barely a whisper.
Elena's eyes sharpened.
"She's close," she said softly. "Closer than she meant to be."
Their footsteps approached — slow, unafraid.
Kaelith tensed, ready to strike with her uninjured hand, even if it cost her the last of her strength. But when the figures stepped into view, she froze.
Elena.
And behind her… Ashley.
Once Handmaiden of Blood, now clothed in simple linen, hair braided like a village girl. Kaelith's breath caught in disbelief — or grief — she couldn't tell which.
Ashley stepped forward first.
"You should not have come here," she said quietly.
But her voice held no hatred. Only sorrow.
"Kaelith… what were you thinking?"
Kaelith's jaw tightened. She wanted to spit something sharp, something that would prove she wasn't weak — but all she managed was:
"I followed orders."
Elena crouched beside her, candlelight in human form.
"You're hurt."
Kaelith jerked away from the offered hand. "Don't touch me."
"As you wish," Elena murmured. No judgment. No pressure. Just respect.
That, somehow, felt worse than any rebuke.
Ashley stepped closer, kneeling opposite Elena. Her eyes were dark with worry.
"Kaelith… you were my friend once."
Kaelith's voice cracked. "I was your keeper. Not your friend."
"You were both," Ashley whispered. "Even if you never let yourself believe it."
The trees around them shifted gently, as if listening.
Kaelith bowed her head. The ruby shard at her belt felt cold, useless.
"I failed the Matron," she whispered. "Failed my house. Failed you."
Elena spoke softly, but her words carried weight.
"You didn't fail. You broke."
Kaelith's eyes snapped up, angry tears rising.
"You don't know anything about me."
"No," Elena said, "but I know what broken feels like."
Ashley's voice trembled. "Kaelith… please come inside. Just to rest. Your hand—"
Kaelith shook her head violently, fear twisting her features.
"If I cross that line, the Veil will feel it. Seraphine will feel it. The House of Blood—"
"—does not own you," Elena said, and the boundary glowed faintly at her words.
Kaelith flinched as if struck.
"I cannot betray the Mother," she whispered, voice breaking.
"She created us… I owe her everything."
Elena's voice was gentle, but it carried truth like a blade turned sideways.
"Do you owe your life to someone who would gladly take it back the moment you hesitate?"
Kaelith swallowed hard.
Her burned hand throbbed.
Her pride shook.
Ashley reached out, stopping just short of touching her.
"You were sent here to kill me," she said softly. "But look at yourself… you're bleeding because the light refused to let you hurt me. Doesn't that tell you something?"
Kaelith's face twisted.
"It tells me," she whispered, "that the gods hate me."
Elena shook her head.
"No," she said quietly. "It tells me that mercy is calling you."
Kaelith's breath shuddered.
"Call it off," she whispered desperately. "Call off whatever power this is. Let me stand. Let me finish what I came for."
"I came for the Handmaiden."
"I know."
"I was sent to break the faith here."
"I know."
"And you still… offer that?" Kaelith whispered, eyes flicking to the boundary's glow.
Elena's answer was simple.
"Mercy is not a trade."
Elena's expression held that calm sorrow only faith can teach.
"No."
Kaelith wanted to scream.
Wanted to run.
Wanted to vanish.
But the boundary held her — not trapped, but invited.
Yes Invited.
"What do you want from me?" she whispered hoarsely.
Ashley answered before Elena could.
"We want you alive."
"Iryna will burn me if I turn."
"Iryna hasn't come for you," Elena answered gently.
A beat.
Kaelith closed her eyes.
"That… is what frightens me most."
Kaelith broke.
Hot tears hit the ground — the first she had shed in years.
Elena placed her hand a few inches from Kaelith's burned fingers, close but not touching.
"You may enter when you choose," she said. "Not because I permit it… but because the light waits for you."
Kaelith stared as the boundary shimmered again — not a wall, but a doorway.
"Will it hurt me?" she whispered.
"Only if you choose the darkness that hurts you," Elena replied.
Ashley held her breath.
Kaelith stared at her burned palm, at the faint glow reflected on her skin.
She closed her eyes.
And the fight drained from her shoulders like old poison leaving a wound.
"I don't know how to walk without fear," she said.
"That," Elena whispered, "is why we walk with you."
Slowly — trembling — Kaelith stretched her uninjured hand forward.
The boundary warmed under her fingertips.
And did not burn.
She gasped.
Ashley covered her mouth, tears streaming silently.
Elena exhaled the quietest prayer.
Not for victory.
For healing.
Kaelith opened her eyes.
"Mercy calls," she said softly — as if the words surprised even her.
And for the first time since the House of Blood claimed her as a child…
…she stepped forward, not as a Handmaiden,
but as someone finally willing to be saved.