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.

this time, her voice echoing in my ears. I could feel something moving... not just around me—but inside me. Like my face was shifting,

Suddenly, the chanting stopped.

the pot lift off

she let

witch said proudly.

heart pounded in my

as I touched my

knew

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

reached out and took

lifted it toward my face. A thousand thoughts raced through my head—What if I didn’t recognize myself? What if I looked like a

lifted

And froze.

at me wasn’t mine. It was the face of an

so—but she

arched at the corners, like she carried a secret. Her nose was delicate, perfectly shaped. And her eyes... they

most shocking

She looked older.

Not by much—but enough.

looked like an

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

didn’t look

the

in some ways... maybe

the sight of her—of

but the words

gaze unreadable. "She did well," he said. "You look completely different. No

slowly lowered the mirror to

only your face that was changed... nothing else," the witch instructed

Damien turned to her.

a quiet, raspy laugh. "Hope you’ve kept

now yours," he said. "As promised,

raspy voice. "I’ll

unable to tear my

this really who I was

wasn’t just a disguise—it was a whole

back to

and looked

That was it?

Just like that?

a little shaky, and followed him toward the door. One last glance at the mirror in my hand made my heart twist

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