Page 119 of Run Little Omega

The fifth guard rushes me from behind. I don't bother turning. Magic spirals from my body in deadly tendrils, piercing him through multiple organs simultaneously. He drops without a sound.

The sixth makes the wisest choice—he runs. I let him go. Let him carry the message back to the courts. Let them know exactly what awaits any who threaten what's mine.

Cassius gathers power between his palms, the air around him crystallizing. "The rut has driven you mad," he says, falling back on the diagnosis he's been predicting for centuries. "That omega's bewitched you. Let me help you, my prince."

"I see more clearly now than I have in seven centuries," I reply, circling him slowly. "I see what the courts really are. What I helped them become."

"You don't understand what's at stake," Cassius insists, a note of panic breaking through his clinical tone. "The babes she carries—they hold magic from all four courts mixed together. We haven't seen such a thing since?—"

"Since before the courts split the Wild Magic," I finish for him. "Since the original Hunt, when magic flowed freely between worlds."

The shock on his face confirms what I've suspected since I first scented Briar in the Gathering Circle—there is more to her lineage than a simple village omega. Some dormant bloodline from the first days, awakened by our claiming bond.

"Then you know why we can't let this happen," Cassius lowers his hands slightly. "You know why she must die. The courts keep the balance. Wild Magic brings only chaos."

"That's exactly why you fear it," I reply, still circling. "Because the courts are built on lies. On keeping power through blood sacrifice and breeding schemes."

"Necessary evils," he counters. "For the good of all."

"Is that what we told ourselves?" I ask, genuinely curious now. "When we approved the cullings? When we dumped dying omegas in that pit where their blood would poison human villages for generations? When we used Hunt omegas as toys for our experiments?"

Cassius's expression hardens. "Your name is on every order, my prince. Don't act so righteous now that you've finally rutted like a common beast."

The accusation doesn't sting as he intends. "You're right," I acknowledge, stopping my circling. "I signed it all. I am as guilty as any. More guilty, perhaps, for looking away while others did the bloody work."

For a moment, something like hope flickers in Cassius's eyes. He thinks he's reaching me, finding the rational prince beneath the rut-driven alpha.

"Then you understand why the pregnant omega must die," he presses, lowering his hands further. "For everyone's sake."

"I understand perfectly," I say, my voice soft with deadly promise. "I understand that you will never touch her. That none of the courts will ever touch her, or the children she carries."

His hands come up again, desperation fueling a blast of Winter Court magic meant to subdue rather than kill. I catch it in my palm, the once-familiar power feeling strangely limited now, like a single note in a symphony I've only just begun to hear.

"The courts will hunt you to the ends of both realms," Cassius warns, backing away as I absorb his magic without effect. "No matter how strong you've grown, you can't fight all four courts together."

"Perhaps not," I concede, advancing on him. "But I'll tear apart anyone who threatens what's mine. Starting with you."

"Please," he abandons formality, real fear replacing clinical detachment. "I've served you for centuries. I only want what's best for the Winter Court. For you."

For an instant, I see him clearly—not just the court physician enforcing brutal policies, but a creature bound by the same rigid system that constrained me for so long. In another life, had I not met Briar, I might have continued approving his reports without question, believing in the necessity of our calculated cruelty.

But I have seen the Vale of Culling. I have felt Briar's grief for her mother, for Willow, for all those sacrificed to maintain our illusion of control. And now I carry the knowledge of four small heartbeats that represent everything the courts fear—unpredictable, uncontrollable new life that defies all their careful breeding programs.

"You care for the system," I correct him. "Not for me. And certainly not for her."

His hands shape one final spell—a distress signal that will bring more court forces. I don't allow him to complete it.

The killing is quick, efficient. Clinical, even. Perhaps the last act of the Winter Prince I once was. Cold magic spreads from my fingers through his heart, stopping it instantly. He crumples without another word, his immaculate appearance marred at last by the disorder of death.

I stand alone in the clearing surrounded by the bodies of my former subjects. The Winter Court crown feels suddenly heavy on my brow—a symbol of authority I've irrevocably rejected. With deliberate movements, I remove it and place it on Cassius's chest. Let the courts find it there, a clear message that the Winter Prince they knew is gone.

From his medical supplies, I take what will help Briar—herbs to ease pregnancy symptoms, enchanted bandages that speed healing, tinctures that replenish magical reserves. The deer I was tracking is long gone, but I quickly find and kill a wild boar instead, the meat richer and more nourishing for Briar's needs.

As I gather my supplies, I spot the guard who fled, watching from the treeline. Our eyes meet across the distance, and I make no move to pursue. Instead, I nod once—acknowledgment of the message he will carry back to the courts.

The Winter Prince is dead. What remains is something new, something the courts have no protocol to contain. A creature of Wild Magic bound by neither court tradition nor the biological imperatives they feared.

By the time I return to the underground chamber, I've composed myself. The blood has been cleaned from my hands, the meat prepared for cooking. Nothing in my appearance betrays the six lives I've just ended or the centuries of allegiance I've severed.

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