The Omega Mated To The Four

Chapter 50
The Omega: Mated To The Four
Chapter Fifty
I stepped into my room, the door clicking shut softly behind me. The space was larger than I had expected, with high ceilings and
wide windows that allowed the glow of the evening light to filter in. The room was furnished with a large bed draped in silver and
midnight-blue sheets, a polished oak desk, a small sitting area with two cushioned chairs, and a wardrobe tucked into one
corner.
It was strange to think of this as mine, even temporarily. The lavish setting was far removed from the simple comforts of my
cabin. For a moment, I stood in the center of the room, unsure where to begin.
My bag sat at my feet, and I knelt to open it, pulling out the few belongings I had brought along. I handled each item with care,
placing them on the desk or hanging them in the wardrobe. When I reached the bottom of the bag, my fingers brushed against a
soft fabric that made me pause.
It was one of Mariah's sweaters, folded neatly. The faint scent of her lingered on it-lavender and pine. My chest tightened as I
held it close, the memories of her friend rushing back like an unforgiving tide.
"I brought you with me," I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper. "I'll find the keystone, Mariah. I'll make this right."
Fighting the sting of tears, I placed the sweater on my bed, smoothing it out with trembling hands. I arranged a few keepsakes I
had brought: A scarf, a locket Mariah had kept by her bedside, and a journal I had found while searching her room. Including
other things like a small photo of me and Mariah from years ago, a beaded bracelet Mariah had given me on my 10th birthday,

and a small
vial of scented oil Mariah used to love.
Needing a distraction, I moved to the window. I pulled back the heavy velvet curtains and looked down at the courtyard below.
What I saw surprised me.
The witches below weren't flying on broomsticks or wearing pointed hats, as I might have expected from old tales. Instead, they

moved with a blend of modernity and magic that felt otherworldly. Some were gliding across the stone pathways on hoverboards,
others riding sleek scooters that seemed to shimmer with an enchanted glow. A few were even walking alongside strange,
glowing
animals that looked like hybrids of wolves and deer.
I found myself mesmerized by the energy of it all. The courtyard was alive with activity-witches of all ages hurrying from one
place to another, their robes trailing behind them. Small bursts of magic occasionally flickered in the air, like fireflies. "Not what I
expected," I muttered, leaning my forehead against the cool glass.
Despite the fascinating sight, a deep unease still lingered in my chest. My mind replayed the nightmarish image of Mariah from
my dream-the torn chest, the laughter that wasn't hers, the shadow walf that swallowed her whole.
I closed my eyes and exhaled shakily. "It wasn't your fault," I whispered to myself, gripping the windowsill. "It wasn't your fault."
I stayed there for a while, letting the hum of activity below ground me. Eventually, the weight of the day began to settle in my
limbs, and I decided a hot shower might help.
The bathroom attached to my room was just as grand as the rest of the castle. Marble floors, a claw-foot tub, and a spacious
shower with intricate silver fixtures greeted me. I turned on the water, adjusting the temperature until it was just right, and
stepped in.
The warm water cascaded over me, soothing my tense muscles. For a moment, I let myself relax, closing my eyes and letting

the steam envelop me.
But as soon as my eyes closed, the image came back. Mariah's broken body. The blood. The mocking laughter that had twisted
her voice into something unrecognizable.
My eyes flew open, and I gasped, gripping the tiled wall for support. My heart raced, and the lump in my throat returned.
"It wasn't your fault,” I said again, louder this time as if saying it would make it true.
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Chapter Fifty
But doubt crept in anyway. Could I have done more? Should I have been stronger, faster, better?

I clenched my fists and forced myself to focus on the present. The water was real. The steam was real. I was alive, and I had a
chance to make things right.
"I'll make it right," I whispered fiercely, my voice echoing in the empty bathroom.
After my shower, I dried off and dressed in comfortable clothes-a loose sweater and leggings. I towel-dried my hair, letting it fall
in soft waves over my shoulders, and sat on the edge of the bed.
The room felt both too big and too empty. The silence pressed in on me, and I found myself lying back on the bed, staring at the
ornate ceiling. The patterns carved into the stone above her seemed endless, like a labyrinth of stars.
"This is it," I said to myself. "The start of... everything."
The reality of my situation settled heavily over me. I wasn't just Stormi, the orphaned omega who had been overlooked my entire
life. I was Stormi, the silver wolf, the one chosen to find the keystone and save my people.
But was I ready?
I sighed and turned onto my side, my gaze falling on the sweater I had laid out on the bed that was next to me. Mariah's scent
still lingered faintly, and it brought a strange mix of comfort and sorrow.
"I wish you were here," I said softly.
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