Page 146 of Run Little Omega

His eyes—those perfect Winter Court blue eyes—dissolve into liquid that runs down his cheeks like mercury tears. His immaculate white-blonde hair ignites, burning with unnatural blue flame. His chest cavity, already brutally violated by Cadeyrn's initial attack, begins to collapse inward as Wild Magic consumes him from within.

Frostbaine's mouth opens in a silent scream, his vocal cords already destroyed by the magical onslaught. His body convulses once, twice, then begins to disintegrate—not falling apart, but actively unmaking itself as the combined seasonal magics erase his very existence.

When Cadeyrn finally steps back, what remains isn't a body but a horrific tableau—a partially collapsed skeleton encased in frost that crumbles to ash where fire touched it, blooming with grotesque flowers that wither to dust in the same moment they form. The remains collapse to the floor with the sound of glass shattering, spreading outward in a pattern that resembles a shattered mirror more than a fallen body.

Cadeyrn turns to the assembled court, his hands still wreathed in swirling elemental magic, his eyes burning with power no single-court fae should possess.

"Let this stand as precedent," he announces, his voice resonating with multiple harmonic tones that send visible shockwaves through the air. "Any threat to my mate or the heirs of ancient magic will be met with complete erasure. There will be no remains to resurrect, no essence to reclaim, no second chances."

The Wild Magic surrounding his hands pulses once more before sinking beneath his skin, leaving behind cillae that now incorporate elements of all four seasonal courts—spring flowers blooming and dying along the blue-white lines, summer gold flickering at the edges, autumn decay creating beautiful fractal patterns within the frost.

No one moves. No one speaks. The only sound is the soft tinkling of Frostbaine's remains continuing to disintegrate, particles of frost and ash drifting through the air like macabre snow.

Then—a crack splits the silence, so loud it sounds like the world itself breaking apart. A massive fissure appears in the perfect ice wall behind the throne, racing from floor to ceiling in a jagged lightning pattern that pulses with blue-white light edged in summer gold and spring green. Another follows, then another, spreading outward like a constellation being drawn across the ancient structure.

The palace itself is responding to the Wild Magic flooding the chamber, to the violent display of combined seasonal powers just unleashed at its heart. Unlike the court nobles, the ancient building isn't resisting the change—it's embracing it, participating in it, accelerating it.

I sink back onto my throne, suddenly lightheaded as the protective rage recedes. The little ones seem to tumble inside me, their movements almost jubilant, as if celebrating the destruction of a threat to their existence. Through our bond, I feel Cadeyrn's continued vigilance, his attention sweeping the chamber for any sign of another challenger.

"This formal session is concluded," he announces, his tone vibrating with magical harmonics that make the new fissures in the walls pulse brighter. "Court business will resume tomorrow."

The nobles file out in shocked silence, giving what remains of Frostbaine a wide berth. None look directly at us as they exit—some from abject terror, others from carefully concealed approval. The factions that were ideological before have now become literal matters of life and death.

Only when the massive doors swing shut, leaving us alone with the shimmering remains of what was once Lord Frostbaine, does Cadeyrn turn to me.

"Are you alright?" he asks, cillae dimming slightly as he kneels before my throne, his transformed hands—still glowing with residual magic from all four courts—carefully kept away from my clothing.

"I should be asking you that," I reply, reaching out to trace the changed frost spirals along his jawline. The patterns now incorporate tiny flower buds that bloom and die in endless cycles, and flickers of autumn gold that create fractal patterns within the familiar frost. "You just... I don't even know what to call what you just did."

"Erasure," he says simply, the word carrying weight beyond its syllables. "I didn't just kill him—I unmade him. No part remains intact enough for resurrection magic to take hold."

"He threatened what's mine." His voice remains cold, but his eyes—those ice-blue depths now threaded with gold and green, subtly altered by the Wild Magic he unleashed—burn with emotions I'm still learning to read. "I would do it again. I will do worse to anyone who threatens you or our children."

Another crack appears in the wall behind us, larger and more violent than the ones before. The floor beneath us shifts, actual chunks of marble and ice rearranging themselves into new patterns that pulse with synchronized magic.

"This changes everything," I say, feeling the understatement in my bones. "There's no pretending you're just the Winter Prince anymore. Not after what you just did."

"I haven't been just the Winter Prince since I claimed you in the forest." Cadeyrn rises, moving to the window that overlooks the Winter Court grounds. "Perhaps I never was. Perhaps this is what I was always meant to become."

I join him, my gaze following his to where court nobles gather in small clusters, already processing what they witnessed, already choosing sides in whatever comes next. Beyond them, at the palace gates, I spot servants passing messages to civilian messengers—the news will spread beyond court circles within hours.

"The other courts will hear of this," I observe, resting my hand on my belly where our children grow. "They'll see it as proof of everything they fear. That you can wield all forms of seasonal magic. That you've become something no court protocol can contain."

"Good." Cadeyrn's hand covers mine, his transformed cillae synchronizing with mine where our skin connects. "Let them fear. It might prevent them from doing anything suicidal."

I snort, unable to help myself despite the gravity of our situation. "When has fear ever prevented stupidity?"

His mouth quirks in that almost-smile I've come to treasure. "Fair point." He turns to face me fully, his expression sobering. "I won't apologize for what I did to him. He would have become an existential threat to you and the children."

"I'm not asking for an apology," I say, meeting his gaze directly. Even as I say it, I realize it's true. The vicious display of magical destruction should horrify me, but all I feel is fierce satisfaction that a threat to my children has been eliminated so thoroughly. "I'm just wondering what comes next."

"War, certainly." He says it with such matter-of-fact calm that I almost laugh, except I know he's not joking. "The other courts were already gathering forces at our borders. This will confirm their worst fears about what's awakening in us, in our children."

Another series of cracks splinters across the ceiling, drawing our attention upward. The perfect ice dome has begun reshaping itself, crystalline patterns forming constellations that seem to tell a story I can't quite read.

"The palace is changing," I note, watching as frost spirals across the floor in patterns that echo those on my skin.

"It was built with Wild Magic," Cadeyrn explains, his gaze tracking the transformation with fascination rather than alarm. "Before the courts divided power into seasonal territories. The foundations remember what came before."

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