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." noveldrama

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.

The witch began to chant again, louder 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, like something old was being peeled away and something new was settling in.

Suddenly, the chanting stopped.

I felt the pot lift off my face.

And then she let out a strange laughter.

"It’s done," the witch said proudly. "It was a success."

My heart pounded in my chest.

I reached up, hesitating as I touched my face. It felt... the same.

But I knew it wasn’t.

My breathing quickened.

Alpha 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 mirror to me.

With trembling fingers, I reached out and took the mirror from Alpha Damien’s hand.

My chest rose and fell in rapid, uneven breaths as I slowly 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 monster? What if... this was all a mistake?

I slowly lifted the mirror.

And froze.

The face staring back at me wasn’t mine. It was the face of an Indian lady.

She was beautiful—undeniably so—but she wasn’t me.

Her skin was smooth, slightly darker 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, perfectly shaped. And her eyes... they were a shade of deep brown, almost black, framed by thick lashes I didn’t recognize.

But the most shocking thing?

She looked older.

Not by much—but enough.

I no longer looked like an eighteen-year-old girl.

This face... it belonged to someone in her early twenties. An Indian woman, she looked so Indian that merely looking at her face you need not ask of her tribe.

Now I didn’t look innocent anymore.

I looked... like someone who had seen the world and learned how to survive it.

And in some ways... maybe I had.

Still, the sight of her—of me—left me breathless.

"I..." I began, but the words caught in my throat.

Alpha Damien studied me carefully, his gaze unreadable. "She did well," he said. "You look completely different. No one will recognize you now."

My hands trembled as I slowly lowered the mirror to my lap.

"You will have to dye your hair to its natural color... take off the blonde... remember it was only your face that was changed... nothing else," the witch instructed while I remained silent. Everything still felt like a dream to me.

Alpha Damien turned to her. "Thank you."

She gave a quiet, raspy laugh. "Hope you’ve kept your promise."

Alpha Damien turned to the witch and gave her my clothes. "Yes. The lands are now yours," he said. "As promised, do the last work and hand it over to my men."

The witch gave a small, satisfied smile. "Good," she said with a raspy voice. "I’ll do it quickly and hand it over to your men."

I sat still, holding the mirror in my lap, unable to tear my eyes away from the reflection that no longer felt like mine.

Was this really who I was now?

This wasn’t just a disguise—it was a whole new identity.

Alpha Damien turned back to me. "Let’s go."

I blinked and looked up at him.

That was it?

Just like that?

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

This new face will be me for the next year, I would have to live with it.

We walked in silence back to the car.

The night air was cooler now, and I pulled the jacket tighter around my body as I climbed into the back seat. Alpha Damien slid in beside me, closing the door without a word.

The engine started, and the car began to move, humming softly beneath us.

I kept the mirror in my lap, still unable to look away from the stranger staring back at me.

This face...

It was mine now. At least for a year.

But it didn’t feel like mine.

It felt borrowed—stolen.

I turned slowly to Alpha Damien. "Whose face is this?" I asked quietly.

He didn’t answer right away.

His gaze stayed locked on the window, like he hadn’t heard me—or was pretending not to.

I waited a beat. "Do you... know her? The woman this face belonged to?"

Still, no reply.

That made my stomach tighten.

"Is it just some random face?" I pressed, watching him closely. "Or was she... someone?"

This time, he shifted slightly—just enough for me to notice.

But he didn’t meet my eyes.

"It’s nothing to worry about," he said simply, his voice calm and even. "The witch did what she was paid to do. That face is yours now, Olivia. No one will recognize you. That’s all that matters."

Nothing to worry about?

That wasn’t an answer.

But I didn’t push further.

Maybe I didn’t want to know.

I leaned back against the seat, the mirror still in my lap, my new reflection staring up at me in the dim light.

An Indian woman.

That’s what I looked like now.

Whoever this woman was... I had a feeling she wasn’t just "random."