Page 116 of Run Little Omega

"To complete whatever transformation has begun in both of you." The Hound gestures to our patterned skin. "You're neither entirely what you were nor fully what you're becoming. That makes you vulnerable."

I consider this as we continue through the winding tunnels. My body feels strange—powerful yet unstable, as though something is struggling to emerge. The silver in my hair has spread, and the points of my ears have sharpened further. Cadeyrn, too, seems caught between forms. Flowers bloom and wither along his hairline; his skin shifts between winter pale and summer gold.

"How much farther?" I ask after what feels like hours of walking.

"Not far," The Hound replies. "There's a chamber ahead where we can rest safely. Court alphas won't follow this deep—the Wild Magic disrupts their court-bound abilities."

The chamber, when we reach it, is surprisingly beautiful. Luminescent fungi grow along the walls, casting everything in soft blue-green light. A small pool of clear water bubbles in the center, steam rising from its surface.

"Hot springs," The Hound explains. "Fed by the same energy that powers the Wild Magic. Rest here. I'll keep watch at the tunnel entrance."

He slips away, leaving Cadeyrn and me in awkward silence.

I sink down against the wall, exhaustion suddenly overwhelming. My muscles ache, and the wound on my arm throbs dully. The events of the past days crash over me—the discovery of the culling grounds, the knowledge of Cadeyrn's complicity, our desperate flight from united court forces.

"You should drink," Cadeyrn says, kneeling by the spring and cupping water in his hands. "And clean your wound."

I want to refuse out of spite, but my throat is parched. I join him at the pool's edge, keeping a careful distance as I scoop up water. It tastes sweet and mineral-rich, instantly revitalizing.

"I'll sleep there," I say, pointing to the far side of the chamber. "You take this side."

Cadeyrn nods, accepting the boundary without protest. "Briar..." he begins, then seems to think better of it.

"What?" The word comes out sharper than intended.

He meets my gaze steadily. "I'm not asking for forgiveness. What I did—what I allowed to happen—is unforgivable. I know that."

"Then what are you asking for?" I demand.

"Nothing. I'm offering." He draws a slow breath. "Whatever happens, whatever you decide about... us... I will end the cullings. I will dismantle the system I helped maintain. Whether you stay or go, whether you hate me forever or not, I give you my word on that."

The sincerity in his voice catches me off guard. For a moment, I glimpse the Cadeyrn who emerged during our time in the forest—the one who protected me, who seemed to care for me beyond mere possession.

"I can't..." I struggle to articulate the tangle of emotions. "I can't just forget what I saw. Those omegas. The children. My mother."

"I'm not asking you to." His voice is quiet but firm. "I'm telling you that regardless of what happens between us, I will right those wrongs as much as anyone can."

I nod, not trusting myself to speak further. The practical alliance we've formed is necessary for survival, but my heart remains guarded. I retreat to my chosen corner and curl onto my side, back turned to him.

Despite my exhaustion, sleep is fitful. My body alternates between burning hot and freezing cold, the claiming bond pulsing with need even as my mind rebels against it. Sometime in the dark hours, I drift into deeper sleep, my dreams filled with arcane patterns and crimson moons.

---

I wake to violent nausea.

My stomach heaves, and I barely manage to crawl away from my sleeping place before emptying its contents. Cold sweat breaks out across my skin as another wave hits me.

"Briar?" Cadeyrn is instantly alert, moving toward me with concern.

I hold up a hand to stop him, unwilling to be seen like this. "Stay back," I gasp. Though I know exactly what this is. Every omega knows the first signs.

Cadeyrn approaches anyway, his expression shifting from concern to wonder as his gaze drops to my abdomen. "You're with child," he says, his voice uncharacteristically unsteady.

"Of course I am," I snap, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. "You've knotted me repeatedly during my heat under a crimson moon. What did you expect?" But even as the words leave my mouth, I realize something is wrong. Different.

My hands move to my abdomen, finding a firm, rounded swell that wasn't there yesterday. The arcane patterns across my skin have shifted, concentrating in a protective spiral around my midsection.

"It's happening too fast," I whisper, fear creeping into my voice despite my efforts to remain detached. "This isn't normal."

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