To ruin an Omega

Chapter 155: Familiar Magic

CIAN

The healer reappeared next to us the second Fia fainted.

“Great heavens,” she said as she looked at the wound and put a hand on her head. That seemed to calm her down a bit before she said; “Come with me.”

She didn’t wait for an answer. She just turned and walked toward the nearest room with the expectation we’d follow.

I adjusted my grip on Fia. Her head lolled against my shoulder. I cupped the back of her skull to keep it steady. To keep her safe even in unconsciousness. The bandage at her throat had turned even darker with fresh blood. The white cotton was saturated and useless now.

The healer pushed open a door of the estate. It looked like a guest room given how simple the sight beyond was. It was clean. There was a bed with crisp white sheets. A desk and a mirror. other than that, there was nothing else.

I carried Fia inside and laid her down as gently as I could. Her body was so light. Too light. The mattress barely depressed under her weight.

The healer moved to her side immediately. Her fingers pressed against Fia’s wrist. Then her neck, careful to avoid the wound. She leaned close to check her breathing.

“She fainted from stress.” The healer’s voice was matter-of-fact. Clinical in the way they always were. “The blood loss didn’t help. Neither did the exertion. She needs rest. No stress. No excitement or shock. Nothing that will raise her heart rate or blood pressure.”

She straightened and began gathering supplies from her bag. I saw a gauze. Some Antiseptic. Thread for stitches probably.

“I’ll finish treating her wounds now.” She glanced at me. “She should be fine with proper care and rest. But she cannot keep stressing herself for the time being. Her body can’t take it.”

I nodded. My throat felt tight. Words wouldn’t come anyway.

The door opened.

Madeline stepped inside. Her blonde hair caught the lamplight. Her blue eyes swept the room and landed on Fia’s still form.

“Seems like I’m late to the ruckus.” Her smile was soft. Sympathetic even. “I heard what happened. Is she okay?”

“Yes.” The word came out rough. I cleared my throat. “Yes. She is.”

I pulled a chair close to the bed and sat. My hand found Fia’s automatically. Her skin was cold. Too cold. I wrapped both my hands around hers and rubbed gently, trying to warm her. Trying to bring some life back into her fingers.

Her stepmother had killed her mother.

The words echoed in my skull. I’d caught fragments of their conversation before Fia screamed. Before she tried to attack. I’d thought I must have misheard. Must have misunderstood. It would be insane for someone like Isobel to confess something so monstrous so casually.

But it had to be true. Fia had said the same words before she collapsed.

It was true and Fia had carried the weight of her mother’s death all these years thinking it was natural. Thinking it was the disease. The rot. Something inevitable and cruel but not deliberate.

Not murder.

I couldn’t imagine what she’d felt in that moment. The revelation hitting her like a physical blow. The grief compounding with rage and helplessness because what could she do? Her mother was still dead. Still gone. Knowing the truth changed nothing except everything.

I had to do something about this.

“I can help.”

Madeline’s voice cut through my thoughts. I looked up.

“What?”

She moved closer. Her steps were quiet on the wooden floor. “Her injuries. They won’t heal well on their own. She’s not a Sentinel. Not a Delta. Not a Luna by birth.” Her gaze moved to Fia’s throat. To the bloody bandage. “There will be plenty of events in her future. High society functions. Gatherings where appearances matter whether we like it or not. Scarring tells a story. People will ask questions. They’ll stare. What she survived… It is brave… But if we can avoid a scar, we should.”

The healer had paused in her work. She was looking at me now. Waiting for something. Permission maybe.

When I didn’t speak because how bothered I was by the state of Fia and what caused it, the healer proceeded to ask Madeline; “You are good with healing magics?”

Madeline nodded. “It is rare and hard but yes. I’m good at performing healing magic. Not many can do it properly. But it would be a significant advantage for Luna Fia. For her comfort and confidence.”

“Alpha Cian, the witch is not wrong.”

I looked at Fia’s face then. She looked peaceful. Even in unconsciousness. She looked younger like this. Vulnerable. The strong, defiant woman who’d headbutted her stepmother was hidden beneath exhaustion and pain.

I nodded, looking at Madeline. “Do it.”

Madeline smiled curtly. She closed the distance between us in three steps. Her hands moved to the bandage at Fia’s throat. She unwrapped it slowly. Carefully. The fabric peeled away from the wound with a wet, sucking sound.

The cut was nearly deep even if the healer has claimed it was not fatal. It looked vicious. The edges were ragged where the clothing had torn when Fia screamed. Fresh blood welled up and trickled down the side of her neck.

Madeline placed her hands on either side of the wound. Her fingers were steady. Confident. She began to whisper.

The words were soft. Almost inaudible. They didn’t sound like any language many knew. But I knew those old words. Familiar ancient words. They had a rhythm to them. A cadence that felt deliberate and practiced.

She has used it on me several times before even if I didn’t need it. It brought back memories. Lots of memories.

Then I smelled it.

Magic had a scent. Most people usually didn’t realize this. They thought it was invisible and incorporeal. But it’s not. Not really. Every magic user in the book carried their own distinct signature…that distinct smell made sure to clung to the air and coat the back of your throat.

This magic smelled familiar and not in the way I hoped it was supposed to. Not because of the memories I had with Madeline.

My entire body went rigid.

I knew this smell.

I’d smelled it before.

The memory hit me like a fist to the gut. Ophelia’s head exploding. Her skull fragmenting outward in a spray of bone and brain matter. Her body crumpling to the ground like a puppet with cut strings. And that smell. That unique, distinctive smell filling my nostrils and coating my tongue.

I hadn’t been able to place it then. It had been so long since I’d felt and smelled Madeline’s magic. Days. Weeks. Months. Years. But it had niggled at the back of my mind. A forgotten thing trying to surface.

Now it was here again.

Right in front of me.

I watched Fia’s throat. The torn flesh was moving. Knitting back together in a way that was too fast. Too smooth. The edges of the wound reached for each other like seeking fingers. They touched. Merged. The skin grew over them like water filling a depression. The blood stopped flowing. Then it receded. Absorbed back into her body or simply vanished.

In less than a minute, the wound was gone.

Not scarred or healed in the normal sense. It was just gone. Like it had never existed.

Madeline pulled her hands back. She was smiling. That same soft, sympathetic smile. Her blue eyes met mine. They were bright. Almost excited.

“There. Much better, don’t you think?”

I looked at Fia’s throat. At the smooth, unblemished skin. Then back at Madeline.

Her blonde hair. Her blue eyes. Her delicate hands that had just performed magic. That smell was still in the air.

The same scent from the magic that had killed Ophelia.

My mind raced. Connections were forming. Terrible connections that I didn’t want to acknowledge but couldn’t ignore.

Had Madeline had been there? At Ophelia Cottonwood’s shop?

No… No… No…

Was her presence here not a coincidence?

Would Madeline… Could Madeline be working for… NO!

“Cian?” Madeline tilted her head. Her smile faltered slightly. “Are you alright? You look pale.”

I realized I was staring. My hand had tightened around Fia’s. Hard enough that my knuckles had gone white.

“I’m fine.” The words came out flat. Emotionless. I forced myself to breathe normally. To relax my grip. To arrange my face into something neutral. “Thank you. For helping her.”

“Of course.” Madeline’s smile returned full force. “I’m happy to help anytime. You know that.”

Did I?