Page 125 of Run Little Omega

"The heart-trees were said to be portals," Cadeyrn murmurs, wonder temporarily replacing concern in his voice. "I thought it was merely court legend."

"Much that was forgotten remains true," The Hound replies cryptically.

I approach the opening, feeling the babies grow suddenly still within me, as though holding their collective breath. The space inside pulses with soft blue-green light, inviting yet ancient.

"What's inside?" I ask, hesitating at the threshold.

"A sanctuary," The Hound says. "One of the original Wild Hunt ritual sites, from before it became a breeding program."

My hand finds Cadeyrn's without conscious thought, our fingers intertwining. The gesture surprises us both. Since discovering the truth about the cullings, I've maintained physical distance except when absolutely necessary. But standing before this ancient portal, facing unified court forces hunting us like prey, old wounds seem less important than present danger.

"Together?" he asks, his voice carefully neutral despite the hope I feel flickering through our bond.

"Together," I agree. "But this changes nothing between us."

The lie tastes strange on my tongue. Everything has been changing between us since the blood ritual—subtle shifts in the damaged fabric of our connection. Not healing, exactly, but perhaps evolving into something new. Something neither of us could have anticipated.

We step through the opening together, the heart-tree sealing itself behind us. The space within defies comprehension—simultaneously enclosed yet vast, contained yet limitless. Blue-green light bathes everything in ethereal glow, and the air tastes of wild magic—untamed, unpredictable, alive.

"The courts won't be able to track us here," The Hound explains, his form seeming to blur slightly at the edges in this strange space. "The sanctuary exists slightly outside normal time. It was created during the first Wild Hunt as a place of transformation."

"Transformation?" I echo, feeling the babies begin to move again, their movements gentle but persistent.

"The original purpose of the Hunt," Cadeyrn says softly. "It was still about breeding and claiming—still about dominance and submission—but in a way that transformed both alpha and omega. The courts corrupted it, turned omegas into mere vessels rather than equal participants in the ritual."

The concept reframes everything I experienced during the Hunt. The brutal pursuit, the violent claiming, the expectation of total omega submission—all of it twisted from something that once honored both participants, that changed both equally through the primal dance of dominance and yielding.

It resonates with what has been happening between us since that first claiming in the forest. Something older than court protocol, something that has been changing us both in ways neither expected.

A low rumble vibrates through the sanctuary, and the blue-green light pulses once, brightly.

"What was that?" I ask, instinctively placing a protective hand over my belly.

"The courts," Cadeyrn says grimly. "They've surrounded the heart-tree."

The Hound moves to what appears to be a wall of living wood, placing his palm against its surface. The wood ripples beneath his touch, becoming temporarily transparent. Through this strange window, I glimpse the forest outside—dozens of court alphas and guards surrounding the blackthorn tree, their weapons and magic focused on its trunk.

At their center stands Elder Iris Bloom, her youthful appearance belying centuries of existence. Her hands weave complex patterns in the air, spring magic shimmering around her fingers as she attempts to force the heart-tree to reopen.

"Can they break through?" I ask, fear finally finding purchase.

"Not easily," The Hound replies. "But given enough time and combined court magic..."

He doesn't need to finish. We all understand the implications.

"Then we don't give them time," Cadeyrn says, his gaze sweeping the sanctuary. "This place must have other exits."

The Hound nods. "Seven paths for the seven original Wild Hunts. Each leads to a different sacred site."

"Which is safest?" I ask, automatically thinking of the four lives I carry.

"None are safe," The Hound answers honestly. "All seven sites will be watched now that the courts know we've accessed the old ways. But some are less accessible than others."

He indicates a narrow archway formed by intertwined branches at the far side of the sanctuary. "That one leads to the mountains. Difficult terrain, even for court alphas."

"Then that's our path," Cadeyrn decides, cillae brightening across his skin as he prepares for whatever awaits us.

I notice something strange as we cross the sanctuary—my reflection in a pool of still water. The silver streaks in my copper hair have spread further, and my eyes now contain distinct flecks of ice-blue amid their natural amber. The transformation that began with Cadeyrn's claiming continues, accelerated by the Wild Magic surrounding us.

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