Page 156 of Run Little Omega

The precision of her description chills me. Not even Lysandra has identified the distinct elemental nature of each quadruplet. How could these escaped omegas know what I've only begun to suspect myself?

"And the other courts?" I ask, pushing past my unease. "What do they know about these awakenings?"

"Everything," Flora answers grimly. "They're coordinating for the first time in centuries. Sharing information about affected omegas, pooling resources to develop new containment spells, sending joint hunting parties after escapees."

"The Autumn Court has developed specialized crystals that can detect emerging cillae even when they're not visible," Mira adds, hugging herself as if remembering pain. "The Summer Court has breeding facilities dedicated to studying omegas who show the earliest signs of awakening."

"And the Winter Court was supposed to be leading the research," Nessa says, eyes flicking to Cadeyrn. "Until Prince Cadeyrn broke with tradition and claimed you in the forest."

My gaze snaps to her at this detail—specific knowledge of our first claiming, something no ordinary escaped omega should possess. Cadeyrn tenses beside me, his cillae shifting into more defensive configurations.

I recall Lord Ember Farren confronting Cadeyrn on the ridge, accusing him of violating the Hunt's fundamental purpose through his exclusive claiming. The courts have been watching us, studying us, fearing what we represent since the beginning.

"Our group was nearly captured twice," Mira continues, oblivious to the sudden tension, placing her hand on her pregnant belly in an unconsciously protective gesture. "We only got away because the forest itself intervened—paths appearing where none existed before, branches entangling our pursuers."

"What do you want from us?" I ask, cutting to the heart of the matter. "Beyond immediate sanctuary."

"Help," Mira answers immediately, her hazel eyes meeting mine with surprising directness. "I keep setting things on fire when I'm scared. Flora's patterns actually make things grow sometimes. We don't know how to control any of this."

As if to demonstrate, she holds out her palm. A small flame flickers to life, dancing above her skin without burning her. "It just... happens. Especially when I'm frightened."

"Guidance," Flora elaborates more carefully. "Your transformation is the most advanced, the most complete. If there's a way to channel these abilities rather than being overwhelmed by them?—"

"And you?" I turn to Nessa, whose watchful silence concerns me more than the others' requests.

Her blue eyes hold mine for a long moment before she answers. "My alpha was... kinder than most. Said the other courts were wrong about Wild Magic, that it wasn't evil, just different." She glances at her hands, which show the faintest trace of emerging Summer Court patterns—golden whorls like heat signatures. "I want to believe him. I need to know what's happening to us—to me."

Something in her careful phrasing rings false, like metal with a hidden crack that will shatter under pressure. But her fear—that seems genuine enough. Not every omega would welcome these changes, especially after generations of court conditioning that taught us power isn't meant for our kind.

I exchange a look with Cadeyrn, a silent question passing between us. His cillae shift in response, a subtle language we've developed that speaks of caution mixed with possibility. Three more omegas showing signs of Wild Magic awakening could be valuable allies—or potentially dangerous liabilities.

"You can stay," I tell all three, making the decision despite the risks. Maybe it's reckless, maybe it's dangerous, but these women are me in another life—omegas trapped in a system designed to use them until they break. "All of you. For as long as you need."

Flora's violet eyes widen with undisguised relief. Mira launches herself at me in an impulsive hug that I return without thinking, feeling her cillae brighten further at the contact. Nessa simply nods once, sharp and assessing, her gaze still calculating behind her mask of gratitude.

"I'll see that quarters are prepared," Lysandra offers, already moving toward the door.

"Near the omega servants' wing," I specify, thinking of the cillae I've glimpsed on palace staff during court gatherings. "Where others like them are awakening."

As Lysandra departs to make arrangements, I step closer to the three omegas, close enough to speak without fear of the distant guards overhearing.

"The magic you're experiencing isn't accidental," I tell them, keeping my voice low. "It's returning to what it should have been all along, before the courts divided and controlled it. Before omegas were reduced to vessels rather than equal participants in the Wild Hunt."

"The original purpose," Flora murmurs, recognition lighting her violet eyes. "Not a breeding program but a balanced ritual that transformed both alpha and omega."

"Yes," I confirm, a surge of unexpected emotion rising within me. Here are three women who might actually understand what's happening—who are experiencing their own versions of the transformation that has reshaped me from village blacksmith to something ancient and new. "The Wild Magic remembers what the courts have spent centuries making us forget—that true power comes from balance, not dominance; from connection, not control."

Mira's hand finds mine again, her patterns brightening with each passing moment. "So it's not dangerous? We're not becoming monsters?"

The naked fear in her young voice breaks something in me. How thoroughly the courts have poisoned even their victims against their own potential.

"The only monsters are the ones who made you believe that power in an omega's hands is unnatural," I tell her, squeezing her fingers gently. "What's happening to you—to all of us—is our birthright reclaiming itself."

As I speak, I notice Nessa watching our exchange with an intensity that seems deeper than mere interest. Her gaze keeps shifting to Cadeyrn, assessing, calculating, as if measuring something only she can see.

"You should rest," I tell them, suddenly aware of how truly exhausted they appear beneath the excitement of discovery. "You're safe here. Tomorrow we can start figuring out how to control these new abilities."

As they follow a returned Lysandra toward their assigned quarters, I catch Nessa looking back over her shoulder, her expression unreadable in the shifting light of the reception hall. Something about her gaze leaves me uneasy, a sensation like a knife hovering at my back.

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