Welcome to Mercy Falls…
The Woman of the Apocalypse awaits.
Hi there! Welcome to my serialized novel, The Woman of the Apocalypse: Mercy Falls: Book 1. Over the next several months, I’ll be posting chapters every Tuesday and Friday, unraveling a story set in a world where angels wage war and demons are the good guys. At its heart is a forbidden love that could tear the heavens apart. Meet Jacob, a brooding demi-demon haunted by his past, and Riley, a vampire Enforcer with a sharp stake and an even sharper tongue, as they defy Heaven, Hell, and their own kind. Together, they battle apocalyptic forces, uncover ancient lies, and face a love so dangerous it could either save their world or end it entirely.
Here’s how it all begins...
Epigraphs
"A great sign appeared in heaven: a woman clothed with the sun, with the moon under her feet and a crown of twelve stars on her head. She was pregnant and cried out in pain as she was about to give birth."
— Revelation 12:1-2
"The minute I heard my first love story, I started looking for you, not knowing how blind that was. Lovers don't finally meet somewhere. They're in each other all along."
— Rumi
Prologue
2034 | MERCY FALLS, NJ
Jacob
A flaming sword to the gut hurts like hell—but losing the love of your life to the dark forces? That’s what kills you.
On the bright side, I destroyed the psycho angel before it could finish the job. But now I’m stumbling through the burning streets of Mercy Falls, trying to hold in my entrails.
I’ve heard it said that grief is the price we pay for love. And man, have I paid.
The Woman of the Apocalypse.
I’d waited centuries for her to save my people, but when she finally came, she saved me instead. She gave me something I never dared to wish for, something my kind was never meant to experience: love. I still remember with perfect clarity the way she smiled, the feel of her lips, the sound of her giggles—memories that keep me alive even as they tear me apart.
If only we’d known what our love would set into motion, how it would unravel everything we’d become…
I clutch my side harder. Damn it burns.
The roar of the waterfall grows louder. Not just water crashing down—it’s power, raw and ancient, waiting to be unleashed. Water to cleanse. Blood to bind. Lightning to awaken. Magic to open.
I pray I have enough left to make it work.
My vision blurs. Each breath feels like my last, and the grim reaper’s already breathing down my neck.
I only have time to tell the abridged story, so listen up: first came the rain of fire, then the plagues, and finally, darkness swallowed the sun.
And then God unleashed the angels. Their holy war wasn’t just against us demi-demons—no, the angels went nuclear. Anything with a drop of magic in its blood—vampires, witches, shifters—all became fair game.
They call it a cleansing. We call it genocide.
But it wasn’t supposed to end like this. She was our Savior…until she wasn’t.
Damn—above me, the Thrones whir louder, their wheel-like forms spinning with hundreds of unblinking eyes, patrolling the streets like Angelic terminators. They usually don’t stop—never hesitate. Once they lock onto a target, they pursue it until there’s nothing left but ash and memory.
But they aren’t so fearsome anymore. Now they flee from her, terrified of what she’s become. I hear their forms spinning faster as they retreat, the grinding hum of their movement reverberating like the echo of a storm.
But it’s not over. Not yet. If I can make it to the waterfall—my nexus to Hell, a.k.a. home—I’ll have one chance to return with the thing that could bring her back to me.
I clutch the pendant around my neck—engraved with a constellation of stars and a crown. Her symbol was once a sign of hope. It’s all I have left of her. For now.
She saved me once. Now it’s my turn to save her, at any cost. They say love conquers all. But no one warns you what happens when it burns everything down.
❁❁❁
The Woman of the Apocalypse
I could tell you my life story, but that isn’t half as interesting as the story of my death.
And all that followed after.
Those who survived the rain of fire and plagues—both supernaturals and humans—now starve in a sunless world.
They cower and hide. I hear their whimpers, endless cries that crowd and confuse my thoughts. Torn between the urge to help and the fear of hurting them instead.
I step over the broken body of a Throne. Its lifeless form slumps against the pavement. A hundred unblinking eyes reflect the fires in the distance.
Once, I would have run from it. Now, I snuff it out with a thought, its light fading beneath my shadow.
Around me, the street is littered with ash and rubble, bones half-buried beneath the weight of a collapsing world. Smoke hangs in the air, heavy and suffocating, but something catches my eye—a burst of white among the ruin.
Wild jasmine climbs through the crumbled brick, its tiny white blossoms swaying as if mocking the chaos around it. I run my fingers along the soft petals, the scent stirring something in me—a dream, maybe. Or a memory. It’s hard to tell the difference these days.
I pick the bloom and bring it to my nose, inhaling the sweet scent.
And then I remember him. Knowing everything that came after, the memory cuts bittersweet. For a time, he was my everything—the sun that shone on my roses. I recall the way he said my name, his laugh, his gentle kisses.
But nothing lasts forever, even amongst immortals.
Now the world burns, and I can’t outrun the whispers.
The Woman of the Apocalypse.
Savior. Destroyer.
They call me both.
The angels fear me. They all fear me.
I tell myself they’re wrong—that I’m not the destroyer. But doubt seeps in, filling the cracks like poison.
If I can’t stop this war, the next time fire rains from the sky, it won’t be the angels—it’ll be me.
Savior. Destroyer.
Deep down, I know.
Next Time:
In Part One: Origins, we meet Jacob in 1982. Stay tuned for posts every Tuesday and Friday.
Make sure to subscribe so you don’t miss an episode!
Well-written! Looks like you’re cooking with some gas here!