Page 80 of Run Little Omega

"You could have sent this message," I point out, studying The Hound's unusual features. "Why risk coming yourself?"

He watches me with those strange eyes—sometimes fae, sometimes animal, entirely unique. "Because I respect courage, little blacksmith. And because I know paths through this forest that even the courts have forgotten."

That captures my full attention. "What kind of paths?"

"Routes that traditional tracking magic cannot penetrate." He reaches inside his leather vest and withdraws a small leather pouch, worn smooth by years of handling. "Though I see you already have means to find the havens."

His gaze falls to the compass at my hip—the one Sera gave me, its needle constantly trembling as it detects the ancient sanctuaries hidden throughout the forest. I touch it instinctively, remembering her warning about fewer havens remaining active than the stories claimed.

"This is something different," The Hound continues, offering the pouch. "Something you may need when the time comes."

I accept it cautiously, loosening the drawstring to peek inside. A small pendant rests within—carved bone wrapped in intricate patterns of woven hair and silver thread, symbols etched into its surface that resemble the cillae spreading across my skin.

"A birthing charm," he explains, his voice softening. "My mother used it to survive delivering me in the forest, away from court physicians and their controlling care."

"Why help us?" Cadeyrn asks, suspicion evident in his voice.

The Hound's gaze turns distant, something like pain flickering across his features. "Let's say I have personal reasons to question court authority." His attention returns to me. "And I recognize echoes of my own unusual origins in what's happening here."

I study the pendant more carefully, running my finger over the symbols etched into its surface. "What exactly do you think is happening?" I ask, though after days of witnessing the Wild Magic's effects firsthand, I have my suspicions.

"The same thing Cadeyrn has already told you," The Hound replies with a knowing smile. "Wild Magic. The original power that existed before court structures divided and weakened it."

The term no longer surprises me. Since our first claiming beneath the ancient blackthorn, Cadeyrn has shared fragments of forgotten history—how the Hunt was once a sacred ritual that transformed both alpha and omega, how court politics corrupted its purpose into mere breeding, how the magic we're experiencing connects to something deliberately suppressed.

"The courts have spent generations controlling what should flow freely," the Hound continues. "They've forgotten that their seasonal divisions are artificial constructs, not natural law."

Cadeyrn leans forward, his interest clearly piqued despite his wariness. "You speak of matters most fae nobles would consider heretical."

"Half-breeds have that luxury," the Hound replies with a sharp smile. "We exist outside the rigid hierarchies that bind pure bloodlines."

I turn the compass over in my hands, studying its unusual construction. The casing appears to be bone rather than metal, inscribed with symbols I don't recognize but which resemble the patterns that sometimes appear in my dreams since the claiming.

"One more thing before I go." The Hound rises fluidly to his feet. "Elder Iris Bloom has called representatives from all courts to discuss what you two represent."

The name sends a chill through me. I remember the Spring Court emissary from the Gathering Circle—her flower-petal skin and deceptively gentle demeanor masking a master manipulator.

"What we represent?" I echo.

"A revival they cannot control." His eyes reflect the morning light like an animal's in darkness. "What grows between you—this bond, these patterns, this magic—it awakens something the courts deliberately buried centuries ago."

The claiming bond pulses between Cadeyrn and me, as if acknowledging the truth in his words. I feel the Winter Prince's reaction—not fear exactly, but a wary recognition that extends beyond his usual arrogance.

"They will unite against this," the Hound warns. "All four courts, setting aside ancient rivalries to eliminate what threatens their very foundation."

"Let them try," Cadeyrn says, frost forming around his clenched fist despite the warmth of the morning. "They'll find I'm not easily eliminated."

The Hound regards him steadily. "Your confidence is admirable, Your Highness. But even you cannot fight every alpha in the forest simultaneously."

I grip the birthing charm tighter, its intricate patterns pressing into my palm. "Then we avoid them. Use these secret paths you mentioned." I look to Cadeyrn, surprising myself with the sudden certainty in my voice. "We need to reach the central haven."

The Winter Prince studies me, something complex passing through our bond—concern, calculation, and beneath it all, a fierce protectiveness he'd probably deny if I named it.

"Your compass already points southwest," I continue, glancing down at Sera's gift hanging from my belt. "Away from the hunting parties, away from court territories. Somewhere they won't expect us to go."

"Smart," the Hound approves. "The pathways I've marked on that compass deliberately skirt territories claimed by court alphas. They're older routes, following lines of power that existed before the seasonal divisions."

He turns to leave, then pauses, looking back over his shoulder. "One last piece of advice: trust what's growing between you." His gaze drops meaningfully to the cillae on our skin. "The courts fear it for good reason."

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