To ruin an Omega

Chapter 343: The Future 2

FIA

The Grand Luna’s words lingered between us, thin and suffocating, like something that did not want to dissolve.

“Considering they’ve already told you that much,” I said. My voice sounded steadier than I felt, which almost made it worse. “There’s nothing left to hide.”

I crossed the room before I could second guess myself. My legs felt light and heavy at the same time. She still held the bottle, her fingers curved around the neck of it, and when I reached for it she did not resist. I did not have to tug or insist. She simply let it go, like she had already decided I would need it more than she did. The glass was colder than I expected. It bit into my palm even though my hands were warm.

“I know the next order of business would be to convince me not to do it,” I said, lifting my eyes to hers. Holding her gaze felt like holding a blade. “But I would be lying to you if I told you there was a chance you could change my mind.”

She did not answer immediately. Instead, she turned her head slightly and looked toward the counter where Maren and Thorne stood as though someone had pressed pause on them. They had not moved since the conversation shifted, their silence loud in the room.

“Would you excuse us?” Morrigan asked.

They bowed. Maren’s movement was tight, strained, as if she wanted to argue but knew better. Thorne’s bow was smoother, practiced, the kind you give when you have learned that loyalty sometimes means swallowing your thoughts. Neither of them met my eyes. The door shut behind them with a quiet click that echoed far too loudly in the stillness that followed.

When Morrigan faced me again, something had changed. The sharpness I had braced myself for was gone. There was no steel in her expression now. There was something softer, something almost weary, as if she had already begun mourning something she did not yet understand.

“I would like to think that I know you well,” she said. “I believe you wouldn’t just descend to violence without cause.”

That landed deeper than any accusation could have. My throat tightened around a response I had not prepared. I swallowed and felt the burn of it. The bottle seemed heavier all of a sudden, like it had absorbed the weight of everything I was about to say.

“I should apologize first,” I said.

Her brows drew together slightly. “About what?”

“Cian knows about Valentine.”

The air shifted. I saw it in her face before she spoke. The color drained from her skin so quickly it frightened me. Her throat moved when she swallowed.

“Oh,” she said, softer now. “You told him.”

I nodded. There was no point pretending otherwise. “It was either that or…” The rest caught somewhere between my ribs and my mouth. I tried again. “It was either that or the other thing. And I couldn’t tell him the other thing.”

She stepped toward me slowly, each movement deliberate, as if approaching a wounded animal that might bolt. “What other thing?” Her voice was not harsh. It was careful. “Talk to me. I want to know why you believe this is the option you have.”

I had not meant to cry. I had promised myself I would not. But the tears came anyway, sudden and humiliating, blurring the edges of the room. I blinked hard, hoping to force them back, but they burned stubbornly at the corners of my eyes and slipped down before I could stop them.

“Something horrible is going to happen,” I said. My voice cracked in the middle, betraying me. “I cannot just wait and pray and hope that it doesn’t happen.”

Her shoulders stiffened. “What happens?”

I drew in a breath that felt too thin to fill my lungs. “I see him die.” The words tore out of me, rough and unsteady. “I see Cian die by the hands of that monster.”

For a second she did not react at all. Then the blood drained from her face entirely. She looked almost blue beneath the candlelight.

“What does that mean?” she asked.

“It was a vision.” I tightened my grip on the bottle until my knuckles ached. I needed the pressure. Needed something solid, something real. “And with everything that’s been happening lately, with all of it spiraling the way it has, it would be insane to think that wasn’t a message from the goddess.”

I waited for anger. For reprimand. I had hidden this from her. From all of them. I had carried it alone, convinced that speaking it aloud would make it more real, more inevitable. She had every right to be furious with me for that.

But she did not raise her voice.

Instead, she reached forward and gently pried the bottle from my hand.

Her fingers brushed mine in the process. They were warmer than the glass had been.

“You saw this how?” she asked quietly.

“The pool,” I said. The memory came back with painful clarity. The way the air had felt thick in the vision. The smell of iron. “I had a vision when I touched him by the pool.”

The word hung there, heavy and obscene.

She studied my face like she was searching for cracks in the story. Not because she doubted me, I realized, but because she wanted to understand how deep this went.

“And you believe killing Aldric first is the only way to prevent it,” she said.

“Yes.” The answer came without hesitation. It had been the only solid thing in my mind now. “If he dies, he cannot be the one who takes Cian from me. From us.”

The silence that followed was different from the one before. It was no longer tense. It was thick with thought.

“You think the goddess would show you a fixed end?” she asked after a moment.

“I don’t know,” I admitted. That was the truth I had been avoiding. “But I know what I saw. I know how real it felt. And I am not willing to gamble with his life on the chance that it was only a warning instead of a prophecy.”