Fated To Not Just One But Three novel Chapter 222

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.

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.

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