Fated To Not Just One, But Three

Chapter 222: New Face

Olivia’s POV

I nervously stepped into the room. Alpha Damien followed close behind and quietly shut the door behind us. The room was dimly lit, the walls lined with shelves full of jars, herbs, strange stones, and things I couldn’t name. The smell was sharp—earthy and strange, like dried plants mixed with smoke and something older.

Seated on the floor in the center of the room was the witch. She was old, with long silver hair tied back loosely. Her eyes were strange—too dark, too deep—and they watched me like they could see every part of me, even the parts I didn’t want anyone to see.

"Sit," she said, her voice low and rough like sandpaper. She didn’t raise her head, just motioned to the small cushion in front of her.

I hesitated, glancing once at Alpha Damien, but he gave me a small nod.

Slowly, I stepped forward and sat down in front of her.

She began chanting in a language I didn’t understand. Her voice was firm, loud, and the air in the room seemed to shift with each word she spoke. I could feel it—like the air was pulsing around me.

Then she stopped.

Her eyes opened and looked directly into mine.

"You must give consent," she said. "Without it, nothing I do will work. Your body must accept the spell willingly."

I stared at her, frozen. My mouth felt dry. Every part of me wanted to run, to scream, to tell her no.

But I couldn’t.

I nodded slowly. "I give my consent for a change of appearance only for a year," I whispered.

The witch didn’t say anything else. She just stood and pointed to the small bed in the corner of the room.

"Lie down," she said.

I swallowed hard and took a shaky step back.

The bed was small, plain, with faded covers and a pillow that looked ancient.

"Will it hurt?" I asked, turning to her.

"No," she said softly. "It’s only for a year. You’ll wake up with a new face, but the old one will still be there... waiting to return."

That didn’t comfort me much.

But I did as she said, walking slowly to the bed and lying down. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, trying to calm my racing heart.

I heard her footsteps come closer.

Then, she placed something warm and thick over my face.

It was a clay pot. I could feel the heavy rim of it resting against my forehead and chin.

And then—darkness.

Total, complete darkness.

something moving... not just around me—but inside

Suddenly, the chanting stopped.

the pot lift off my

let out

said

pounded in my

reached up, hesitating as I touched my face.

I knew it

My breathing quickened.

Damien walked over to me with a relieved look on his face, and in his hand was a mirror. When he reached the bed, he stretched out the

trembling fingers, I reached out and took the mirror

thoughts raced through my head—What if I didn’t recognize myself? What if I looked like a

lifted the

And froze.

face staring back at me wasn’t mine. It was the face

beautiful—undeniably so—but she wasn’t

than mine, glowing with an even tone. Her lips were full and slightly arched at the corners, like she carried a secret. Her nose was delicate,

most shocking

She looked older.

Not by much—but enough.

longer looked like

early twenties. An Indian woman, she looked so Indian that merely looking at her face

I didn’t look

like someone who had seen the world and learned how

ways...

the sight of her—of me—left me

the words caught in

gaze unreadable. "She did well," he

hands trembled as I slowly

have to dye your hair to its natural color... take off the blonde... remember it was only your face that was

to her.

raspy laugh. "Hope you’ve kept

are now yours," he said. "As promised, do the last work and

a raspy voice. "I’ll

tear my eyes away from the reflection that

this really who

wasn’t just a disguise—it was

turned back to

looked

That was it?

Just like that?

and followed him toward the door. One last glance at the

me for the next