Page 155 of Run Little Omega

"How did you find us?" Cadeyrn asks, his tone warm even as his posture remains subtly alert. I recognize the tension in his shoulders—he's scanning for threats, assessing these survivors with the instincts of a ruler who has survived seven centuries of court intrigue.

Flora answers, her hands making explanatory gestures I remember from our conversations in the forest. "The Wild Magic leaves traces. The forest itself guided us, reshaping paths to lead here rather than deeper into Summer territories."

"The trees whispered your name," Mira adds, her words tumbling out with childlike wonder that somehow survived everything she's endured. "They called you 'the vessel of balance' and showed us the way. It was like the forest itself wanted us to find you."

A chill traces my spine that has nothing to do with the Winter Court's perpetual cold. The forest guided them—the same ancient woodland that responded to our claiming, that bent branches to protect us during the Hunt, that seemed to breathe with awareness each time Wild Magic surged between Cadeyrn and me.

"You're different," Nessa observes, her gaze fixed on my transformation. "More like them now."

"Becoming something new," I correct, holding her gaze steadily. "Something neither human nor fae, but what both were meant to be before the division."

Silence falls over the reception hall, court nobles shifting uncomfortably at this explicit acknowledgment of my transformation. The three omegas exchange glances, some unspoken communication passing between them.

"Can we talk somewhere less... observed?" Flora asks, her violet eyes darting toward the watching nobles whose curiosity barely masks their unease.

Cadeyrn nods, a slight gesture that sends court staff into immediate motion. Within moments, the reception hall clears except for us, Lysandra, and two guards at the far entrance—too distant to overhear but present enough to respond if needed.

"Tell me everything," I say once we're alone. "How did you actually escape? The courts don't just let claimed omegas walk away. Especially those carrying new heirs."

The three share a glance, and Flora takes the lead. "The Wild Magic started spreading after the solstice. Something changed in the air, in the earth itself. Omegas throughout all four territories began developing cillae where none should exist. Abilities awakening that court breeding programs have suppressed for generations."

She extends her arm, pushing back her sleeve to reveal faint cillae spiraling beneath her skin. Not as vivid as mine, but unmistakably similar—and impossible according to court doctrine. The patterns hold elements of Spring magic—spiraling vines and unfurling leaves intermixed with Winter's geometric precision.

"I was being held in the Spring Court's breeding facility," she continues. "They had plans for my next cycle—specific alphas selected for 'genetic optimization.'" The clinical term falls from her lips with practiced ease, the vocabulary of her captors. "Then one morning, I woke up with these." She traces the floral patterns with a fingertip. "By nightfall, three other omegas in my section had developed similar markings."

"The courts panicked," Mira interjects, leaning forward with sudden animation. "Started locking down anyone showing patterns, running these awful tests with containment crystals that felt like being flayed alive, like they were trying to peel the magic out from under our skin."

Her voice carries the raw edge of personal experience, and I find myself reaching for her hand without thinking. The moment our skin connects, her elemental patterns brighten noticeably, spreading further up her arm in delicate spirals that echo my own but with distinctly spring-like qualities—gentle curves like unfurling leaves rather than winter's geometric precision.

"Holy shit," she gasps, staring at her arm. "That's never happened before."

The patterns continue to spread, growing more vivid where our skin touches. I feel something flowing between us—not power being drained or given, but somehow resonating, amplifying each other like striking similar notes on different instruments.

"The Wild Magic recognizes itself," Lysandra observes from where she stands near the door. "It awakens more fully in proximity to evolved vessels."

"That's why we found each other," Flora explains, excitement pushing through her usual careful reserve. "Somehow, we could sense others like us—omegas with emerging patterns. We started passing messages through the servant networks, sharing information about the changes, techniques for hiding the manifestations from court physicians."

"And escaping," I finish, understanding dawning like a blacksmith's hammer striking hot iron. "Finding each other and making a run for it."

The image of Lira flashes briefly in my mind—the musician omega I'd rescued from the Raveling Brothers with her bone flute that disrupted their synchronicity. I wonder if she made it to another sanctuary, if she's part of this emerging omega resistance.

"Seven of us made it out initially," Nessa adds, her voice neutral despite the implications of her words. "Following the forest's guidance and each other's emerging magic. Four were recaptured at the borders. The courts have tracking alphas trained specifically for reclaiming escaped omegas."

Something in her tone makes me study her more closely. There's an undertone to her voice that doesn't quite match her words—a note of... what? Regret? Hesitation? Calculation? Her gaze meets mine briefly before sliding away, her hands fidgeting with the hem of her sleeve like someone trying not to reveal a tell.

"Why here?" Cadeyrn asks, cillae shifting thoughtfully across his skin. "Why seek sanctuary with the Winter Court rather than hiding in the human villages?"

"Because of her," Mira says immediately, gesturing toward me. "The forest showed us glimpses—cillae glowing through ice walls, a throne transformed by wild colors, a woman with copper-and-silver hair carrying four lives filled with ancient magic."

The description sends a shiver through me like ice water down my spine. The forest showed them visions? The same ancient woodland that guided Cadeyrn and me through the Hunt, that created safe passages when court alphas pursued us, somehow projecting images to guide these escaped omegas?

"What exactly did you see?" I ask, hands unconsciously moving to protect my belly, the little ones shifting as if sensing my unease.

"Flashes, mostly," Mira explains, her brow furrowing with concentration. "Like dreams but while we were awake. A throne room transforming, ice melting into living color. You standing before a Winter Court noble, your hair part copper, part silver, cillae covering your skin."

"And four lights within you," Flora adds, her violet eyes dropping to my pregnant belly. "Four distinct magical signatures unlike anything the courts have seen before."

"Like the four elements," Nessa elaborates unexpectedly. "Fire, earth, air, water—all balanced within a single vessel."

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