Rejected Omega Mocked by Her Pack, Unaware She’s the Fated Mate of the Alpha King!

Sometimes the wolves who howl the loudest about your worthlessness are the ones who fear what you might become if you ever discovered your true power. The morning mist clung to the shadow mere packgrounds like a burial shroud, and Orth wondered if today would finally be the day they killed her.

 Not with claws or fangs that would be too merciful for an Omega who couldn’t even shift properly. No, they preferred the slow death of a thousand humiliations. each small cruelty designed to remind her that she was nothing more than a mistake the moon goddess had cursed them with. She pressed herself against the cold stone wall of the pack house kitchen, counting her breaths, counting her breaths as she waited for the breakfast crowd to thin. 3 years had passed since her 18th birthday.

 3 years since the night that should have brought her wolf, but instead brought only scorching pain and failure. While others her age ran freely through the forest, their wolves magnificent and proud. Orth remained trapped between forms, neither fully human nor completely wolf, still hiding in shadows. Little mouse, the voice made her stomach clench.

 Lysander, the pack’s newest enforcer, blocked the doorway with his broad frame. At 25, he’d already earned a reputation for his cruelty toward the weak. His particular fascination with tormenting her had become something of a sport among the younger wolves. “I’m working,” Orthly, gesturing to the stack of dishes she’d been assigned.

 Early morning kitchen duty was one of the few tasks where she could avoid most of the pack. Or so she’d thought. Lzander stepped closer, his boots tracking mud across the floor she’d just cleaned. “Working,” he repeated. mockery dripping from the word. Is that what we’re calling it when the pack’s broken omega plays at being useful? Behind him, two more wolves appeared. Cassia and Thorne.

 Twins who delighted in following Lysander’s lead. Cassia’s perfectly manicured nails clicked against the doorframe as she smiled. The expression never reaching her ice blue eyes. Did you hear? Cassia purred, addressing Lysander, but keeping her gaze fixed on Arth. Father says the Alpha King’s convoy will pass through our territory next week. Every unmated wolf of age will be presented.

 She paused, her smile widening. Well, every proper wolf. The words hit their intended mark. Arthur’s hands stillilled on the dish she was washing. soap suds sliding down her wrists. Zephro’s nightshade. They called him the youngest wolf to ever unite the Northern Territories.

 So powerful that even alphas bowed in his presence. Rumors said he could shift into a wolf larger than any seen in generations. That his howl could shake mountains. That he’d never lost a challenge. Imagine,” Thorne added, his voice thick with false sympathy, having to explain to the Alpha King why our pack harbors a defective omega.

 Fathers already arranging to have her confined to the cellar during the visit. Can’t have royalty thinking we’re weak. Orth’s grandmother, Morwennial, had once told her that the strongest steel was forged in the hottest flames. But Orth didn’t feel strong. She felt brittle, like glass that had been heated and cooled too many times, ready to shatter at the slightest pressure.

 Nothing to say, Mouse. Lysander moved closer, still close enough that she could smell the breakfast meat on his breath. Or are you dreaming of meeting the alpha king? Perhaps you think he’ll take pity on the pack’s broken toy. Please, Arth whispered, hating how small her voice sounded. I have work 

to finish. work. Lzander grabbed the plate from her hands, holding it up to examine it with exaggerated scrutiny. You missed a spot. He opened his fingers, letting the plate fall. It shattered against the stone floor, ceramic shards scattering across the kitchen. The sound echoed through the morning quiet like an accusation. Clumsy Omega, Cassia tutued.

 Now you’ll have to explain to the head cook why you’re breaking the pack’s property again. They left her there, kneeling among the broken pieces, their laughter echoing down the corridor. Orth’s hands trembled as she gathered the shards, a piece slicing her palm. She watched the blood well up, bright red against her pale skin. Even her blood was wrong.

 Too bright, too thin, lacking the darker richness of a proper wolf’s child. The voice startled her. Morwenial stood in the doorway, her ancient eyes taking in the scene with a knowing that made Orth want to weep.

 Her grandmother moved with surprising grace for someone who claimed to be over 90, though she’d never been specific about her age. Let me see,” Morwennial said, taking Orth’s bleeding hand in her weathered ones. She produced a cloth from her pocket. She always seemed to have exactly what was needed, and wrapped the wound with practiced efficiency. “It wasn’t my fault,” Orth began, but her grandmother silenced her with a look. “Fault is a luxury we cannot afford,” Morweniel said quietly.

The Alpha King comes not next week, but tonight. Orth’s heart stopped tonight. But Thorne said, “The twins know nothing. Your father received word this morning. The king travels in secret, seeking something that was lost long ago. Her grandmother’s eyes grew distant, as if seeing something beyond the kitchen walls. Sometimes what appears to be a curse is actually a gift waiting to be unwrapped. A gift.

 Arth couldn’t keep the bitterness from her voice. I’m 21 years old, grandmother. I can’t shift properly. I can’t link with the pack. I can’t even defend myself from bullies. What kind of gift is that? Morwinial cupped Orth’s face in her hands. And for a moment, Orth could have sworn she saw something flash in her grandmother’s eyes.

 A glimmer of gold that shouldn’t exist in a wolf too old to shift. the kind that requires the right moment to reveal itself. Morwinial said, “Your mother understood this before she passed.” Arth’s throat tightened. Her mother, Mayora, had died when Orth was 15, just 3 years before her failed first shift.

 The pack whispered that she’d died of shame, knowing somehow that her daughter would be defective. But Morwinil had always insisted there was more to the story. Now, her grandmother continued, releasing her face. Your father has ordered all unmated wolves to prepare for presentation. Yes, even you. But why? They’re going to hide me anyway. Your father is many things, but he is not stupid.

 Hiding an Omega from the Alpha King would be seen as deception. Better to present you briefly and hope the king pays you no attention. Morwennial pulled something from her pocket, a small vial filled with silvery liquid. Drink this tonight before the presentation. What is it? Something to calm your nerves.

 The last thing we need is for you to have one of your episodes in front of royalty. The episodes. That’s what they called it when Arath’s body tried to shift but couldn’t complete the transformation. The agony of bones breaking and reforming wrong, of being trapped between forms, neither human nor wolf. It had happened publicly only once at a pack gathering. And the horror on everyone’s faces still haunted her dreams.

 Orth took the vial, the glass cool against her palm. Grandmother. Did you know my mother’s wolf? What was she like? Morwennial’s expression softened. Your mother’s wolf was unique. Silver as moonlight. With eyes like stars. She could run for days without tiring. And her howl. She trailed off lost in memory. Her howl could make the strongest alpha weep with its beauty.

 Then why couldn’t she pass that strength to me? Who says she didn’t? Morwinial turned to leave, then paused. Wear the blue dress tonight. The one your mother left you. That old thing. It’s practically falling apart. Wear it. Her grandmother’s tone brooked no argument. And Arth, remember that destiny doesn’t make mistakes. It only creates mysteries waiting to be solved.

 Alone again in the kitchen, Arthur cleaning the broken plate, her mind spinning. The Alpha King here tonight, every unmated wolf would be presented, lined up like cattle for his inspection. The thought made her stomach turn. She’d heard stories of his power, his ruthlessness in battle, his lack of patience for weakness, and she was weakness personified.

 As the day wore on, the pack house transformed into a frenzy of preparation. Orth watched from the shadows as unmated females prim and pined, their excitement palpable. Even wolves from neighboring packs began arriving, having received the same mysterious summons. I heard he’s never taken a mate. One visiting wolf gossiped as Orth swept nearby.

 5 years as Alpha King and he’s refused every match. Maybe he’s waiting for his faded mate. Another suggested dreily. Faded mates are fairy tales. A third scoffed. He’s probably just too picky. When you can have anyone, why settle? Orth moved away, their chatter making her head ache. Faded mates. Another thing she’d never have along with a proper wolf, a loving family, or basic respect.

 She was beginning to think Morwinial was wrong about Destiny making mysteries. Sometimes Destiny just made mistakes, and she was living proof. That evening, as she prepared for the presentation, Orurith thought of her younger sister, Aurora, safely mated to a beta in a distant pack. Her father had been so proud when Aurora shifted perfectly at 18.

 Her wolf, strong and beautiful, everything Arth wasn’t. “At least Aurora isn’t here to see my humiliation,” she muttered to her reflection, adjusting the blue dress one final time. “The blue dress felt like wearing moonlight against her skin, its fabric somehow cool and warm at once.” Orth stood before the cracked mirror in her tiny room, barely larger than a closet, tucked beneath the main stairs of the pack house.

 The dress had been stored in a wooden box beneath her bed for years, wrapped in tissue paper that smelled of lavender and something else. Something wild and ancient that made her wolf stir restlessly beneath her skin. Her wolf, what a joke! The pathetic, malformed thing that lived inside her was barely worthy of the name. While other wolves were magnificent creatures of power and grace, hers was wrong.

 The few times she’d managed even a partial shift, what emerged was skeletal, patchy, a grotesque mockery of what a wolf should be. Arth her father’s voice boomed through the floor above. The presentation begins in an hour. Do not embarrass us more than you already have by being late. Elrichen Shadowir had once been proud of his daughter.

 Or so Morwinial claimed before the failed shift, before the shame. He’d called her his little moon dancer would carry her on his shoulders through the packgrounds. Now he could barely look at her without his jaw clenching. As if her very existence was a personal insult, she swallowed the contents of her grandmother’s vial in one quick motion. The liquid tasted of mint and something metallic, coating her throat with an odd tingling sensation.

 Almost immediately, she felt her wolf settle, the constant anxious pacing in her mind quieting to a gentle hum. The pack gathering hall had been transformed for the alpha king’s arrival. Banners of midnight blue and silver the nightshade pack colors hung alongside shadow mirrors brown and gold. The air thrummed with nervous energy as unmated wolves from neighboring packs had also been summoned, creating a sea of bodies, all hoping to catch the king’s attention, but hoping for what exactly.

 Orth wondered as she slipped in through the side entrance, keeping to the shadows as always. Did they think the Alpha King would simply point at one of them and declare them worthy? From what she’d heard, Zephro’s nightshade had refused every match suggested by the Council of Alphas for the past 5 years. Some said he was waiting for his faded mate.

 Others whispered he was incapable of love, his heart frozen by the same power that made him invincible in battle. form ranks. Beta Garrett’s voice cut through the chatter. He was a mountain of a wolf, scarred from countless battles. His left eye milky white from a challenge gone wrong. Alphas and betas in the front, deltas and gamas in the middle, omegas in the back.

 Arth took her place at the very back, the only omega present. The pack had few omegas. Most families who produced them sent them to other packs as part of alliance agreements. Only Orth remained, too defective to even be traded away. Beside her, a girl from the Ironwood pack glanced over with barely concealed disgust.

 They let you attend? I heard Shadow Mir had a broken Omega, but I thought surely they’d have the sense to silence. Betar roared. The Alpha King approaches. The massive oak doors swung open, and the temperature in the room seemed to drop 10°. Power rolled in like a physical force, pressing against Orthod’s skin, making her wolf whimper and try to curl smaller around her.

 Wolves began dropping to their knees, unable to withstand the sheer dominance radiating from the doorway. But Arth remained standing, not out of defiance or strength, but because her body had locked completely, every muscle frozen as something deep within her recognized something. Her wolf, usually so quiet and weak, suddenly surged forward with a violence that stole her breath.

 Mine,” it whispered. Or maybe screamed. She couldn’t tell through the roaring in her ears. “Mine, mine, mine.” Zapiro’s nightshade entered the hall, and the world shifted. He was everything the stories claimed, and nothing like she’d imagined. Taller than any wolf she’d seen. He moved with a predator’s grace that made every other person in the room look clumsy by comparison.

 His hair was black as a moonless night, his skin kissed by sun despite the Northern Territo’s eternal clouds. But it was his eyes that stopped her heart silver like liquid mercury, ancient despite his youth, holding secrets and power that shouldn’t exist in the mortal realm. Those eyes swept across the gathered wolves with dismissive efficiency, cataloging and dismissing, searching for something. They stopped on her.

The world narrowed to that singular moment of connection. Orth felt as if someone had reached into her chest and grabbed her heart, squeezing until she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, could only stand there as the Alpha King’s expression shifted from boredom to something she couldn’t name. He took a step toward her, then another, “Your majesty, Alpha Hendrich.

” Her father’s father bowed low. “Welcome to Shadowmir. We are honored by your presence. May I present our unmated wolves for your consideration? Who is that? Zephos’s voice was deeper than thunder, soft as silk, and it slithered down Orth’s spine like a caress. He hadn’t looked away from her, hadn’t even acknowledged the alpha’s greeting.

 Who, your majesty? Henrik followed his gaze, and his face pald. Oh, that is no one of consequence. an omega with a malformed wolf. We’ve arranged our strongest females in the front. Her name, it wasn’t a request. Areth. Her father spoke up, stepping forward with barely concealed panic. My daughter, your majesty, but I assure you, she is not suitable for Arth.

The ways a Firo said her name made her knees weak. He moved through the crowd like water. Wolves parting before him without conscious thought. Each step brought him closer, and with each step, her wolf grew more frantic. Run! Her rational mind screamed. “Run before he sees what you really are.” But she couldn’t move, couldn’t even lower her gaze, as protocol demanded.

 She could only watch as death incarnate approached her with eyes that burned silver fire. He stopped mere inches away, so close she could feel the heat radiating from his body, smell the scent of pine and winter storms that clung to him. This close, she could see the fine scars that decorated his neck, his hands, evidence of battles won, challenges conquered.

 “Your wolf,” he said quietly, meant only for her ears. “Show me.” The blood drained from her face. I I can’t can’t or won’t. Your majesty, her father interrupted, desperation clear in his voice. She’s defective. Her wolf is malformed. It would be an insult to ask you to witness such. Zephos moved so fast, Orth. One moment, her father was speaking. The next he was on his knees.

 The Alpha King’s hand around his throat. Did I ask for your opinion? Zepharos’s voice had gone deadly soft around them. The shadow wolves growled, instinct demanding they protect their alpha’s son, but none dared move against the king. “Please,” Arth whispered, finding her voice at last. “Please don’t hurt him.

” Zephos turned those Mercury eyes back to her, something flickering in their depths. Slowly he released Alriken who gasped and stumbled backward. “You beg for a man who calls you defective?” the king asked, tilting his head with predatory interest. “He’s my father.” “Biology doesn’t make family,” Zephro said. And there was something in his tone that suggested personal experience.

 He lifted his hand and Arth flinched, expecting a blow. Instead, his fingers ghosted across her cheek. Barely a whisper of touch that sent electricity racing through her veins. Your majesty. Betagar stepped forward carefully. The evening feast has been prepared. Perhaps you would like to. No feast. Zapiros hadn’t looked away from Ath.

 I require a private audience with the Omega. Gasps echoed through the hall. Such a request was practically a declaration of intent, a sign of serious interest. But an alpha king interested in a broken Omega, it was unthinkable. Your Majesty, Alpha Hendrich tried again. Surely one of our stronger wolves would better suit.

Question me again, Zephos said conversationally. And I’ll raise this entire territory to ash and bone. He finally looked away from Orth, addressing the Alpha with eyes gone dark as storm clouds. The Omega, a private room now. The the blue moon chamber, Hendrick stammered. It’s our finest.

 Show me, Zephiro, commanded Orth, ignoring the Alpha entirely on legs that felt like water. Orth led the Alpha King through halls she’d cleaned a thousand times. past portraits of former alphas who would roll in their graves, knowing a broken omega was guiding royalty through their ancestral home. Behind them, she could hear the frantic whispers, the disbelief, the fury from wolves who’d prim and prepared, only to be overlooked for the pack’s shame.

 The blue moon chamber was reserved for visiting alphas, its walls lined with silver and moonstone that caught the light like captured stars. Orth had only been inside once her mother was alive and had snuck her in to show her the beautiful murals depicting ancient wolf legends. Now she stood in that same room with the most dangerous wolf in the Northern Territories, and her grandmother’s potion was the only thing keeping her from shifting into her grotesque form from sheer terror.

 Zephos closed the door behind them with deliberate slowness, the soft click of the latch somehow more ominous than if he’d slammed it. Orth pressed herself against the far wall, her heart hammering so hard she was certain he could hear it. The room spacious by pack standards, felt impossibly small with his presence filling it.

 You’re afraid of me, he observed, not moving from the door. “Everyone is afraid of you.” The words escaped before she could stop them, and she immediately bit her tongue, tasting blood. To her shock, his lips curved into something that might have been amusement. True, but your fear is different. He tilted his head, studying her like a particularly fascinating puzzle.

 You’re not afraid. I’ll kill you. You’re afraid I’ll see you. I don’t know what you mean. Liar. He moved then, not toward her, but to the window, gazing out at the rising moon. Uh, do you know why I’m really here, little Omega? The endearment should have sounded mocking, but there was something almost gentle in his tone that made her wolf purr actually purr. Something it had never done before.

 The official story is territory inspection, Orth replied carefully. But grandmother says you’re looking for something lost. He turned sharply, silver eyes narrowing. Your grandmother, Morwenial, isn’t it? Still alive after all these years. You know her? I know of her. He was studying her again.

 That intense gaze that seemed to peel back layers of skin and bone to examine her very soul. She was friends with my grandmother before the Great Division. Tell me, does she still brew those interesting potions? Arth’s hand flew to her stomach where the vials contents sat. I don’t. You of moonmint and silver sage, he interrupted.

 A suppression draft, if I had to guess, strong enough to keep even the most violent wolf subdued. He moved closer, and Orth’s back hit the wall. The question is, why would you need such a thing? Unless, his nostrils flared, and something shifted in his expression. Unless your wolf isn’t malformed at all. It’s just fighting something. You’re wrong. The words came out as barely a whisper. My wolf is broken.

 Everyone knows. Everyone knows what they’ve been told. He was close enough now that she could see flexcks of gold in his silver eyes, like stars in a night sky. But I’ve learned never to trust what everyone knows. May I? Before she could ask what he meant, his hand was at her throat.

 Not threatening his touch was feather light, fingers tracing the pulse point where her neck met her shoulder, the traditional marking spot, the place where a mate would fire. Ice, lightning. The sensations crashed through her simultaneously, and her wolf surged against the potions barriers with unprecedented violence.

 Arth gasped, her spine arching as every nerve ending came alive at once. Zapiros jerked back as if burned, his eyes wide with something that looked impossibly like shock. Impossible, he breathed. What? Arith’s voice cracked. What did you do? Nothing. I did nothing. He was backing away now, running a hand through his hair in an oddly human gesture of agitation. This can’t you can’t be.

A knock at the door interrupted whatever revelation he was having. Your majesty. Bet Garrett’s voice carried through the wood. The alpha request your presence for the formal dinner. Tell the alpha he can. Zephos caught himself visibly struggling for composure. When he spoke again, his voice had returned to its earlier cold authority. I’ll attend shortly.

Shall I escort the Omega back to the Omega stays, silence from the other side of the door, then retreating footsteps. Zephro stood in the center of the room, his back to her, tension radiating from every line of his body. When he finally spoke, his voice was different, younger, somehow more vulnerable.

 “Do you believe in fate, Arth? I believe in curses,” she replied honestly. “I believe the universe has its own plans.” “Regardless of our wishes,” he laughed. “But it was a sound devoid of joy. Yes, it does.” He turned back to her and the vulnerability was gone, replaced by that predatory intensity.

 Your wolf, when did it first manifest? My 18th birthday, but it went wrong. I couldn’t complete the shift. The healers said my wolf was too weak, malformed. I’ve never successfully shifted. And the pain? Excruciating. She wrapped her arms around herself, like being torn apart from the inside. He moved toward her again, but this time his approach was different.

 Careful, almost hesitant. What if I told you that wasn’t weakness? What if I told you your wolf wasn’t malformed, but suppressed? That’s impossible. Who would? She stopped, her mind racing. No, my parents would never. Perhaps not intentionally. He was close again, but this time she didn’t feel threatened. If anything, her wolf was practically trying to crawl out of her skin to get closer to him.

 Tell me about your mother. She died when I was 15. 3 years before my first shift. How illness? She got weaker and weaker until Orth trailed off, remembering those final days. How her mother had gripped her hand, whispering words in the old tongue that Arth couldn’t understand. How she’d made Morwinial promise something. Their voices too low for anyone else to hear.

Not illness, Zepharos said quietly. Sacrifice. Before Arthmand explanation, he was at the door. You’ll attend the dinner tonight. I’m not allowed at formal dinners. Omegas eat in the kitchen. You’ll sit beside me. That’s the place of honor. You’re chosen. The words died as understanding dawned. No, no, you can’t possibly.

 I can do whatever I wish. I’m the alpha king. But there was something hollow in his bravado. Wear something other than that dress. It’s distracting. He left before she could respond. The door closing with finality behind him. Arth sank to the floor, her legs no longer able to support her.

 Her wolf was going insane, throwing itself against the barriers of the potion with increasing desperation. And underneath the chaos, a single word kept repeating in her mind. In a voice that wasn’t quite her own, “Mate! Mate! Mate! No, it was impossible.” Faded mates were rare, growing rarer with each generation, and an alpha king faded to a broken omega.

 The universe couldn’t be that unpredictable, could it? A servant appeared moments later with a selection of gowns where they’d found them on such short notice. Arth couldn’t imagine. She chose the simplest, a deep green that reminded her of forest shadows. trying to ignore how perfectly it fit. The dining hall erupted in whispers when she entered on Zapiros’s arm. Every eye tracked their movement to the high table, where she was seated in the place meant for the Alpha King’s chosen.

 Her father’s face had gone purple with rage and embarrassment. Cassia looked ready to shift and attack right there. “Smile,” Zephos murmured, his breath warm against her ear. Let them wonder. They’re not wondering, Orth whispered back. They’re plotting my murder. Let them try. The casual confidence in his voice should have been reassuring.

Instead, it reminded her that she was playing a game she didn’t understand with stakes she couldn’t fathom. The dining hall had never seen an omega at the high table, and the weight of a hundred stairs pressed against Orth skin, like physical touch. She sat rigid in the chair.

 Zepharos had practically forced her into the borrowed green dress, feeling like armor and target both. The gown fit too perfectly, as if it had been made for her, though that was impossible. She was drowning in a situation that probably cost more lives than her family spent on food in a year. Political maneuvering she didn’t understand. Ancient protocols she was surely breaking. And a connection she couldn’t accept.

Zephro sat beside her. His presence a looming storm cloud that made everyone at the table nervous. He hadn’t spoken since the meal began. But his proximity was doing things to her wolf that the suppression potion was struggling to contain. Every time he moved, every time he breathed, her entire body reacted as if pulled by invisible strings.

 So Cassia’s voice cut through the tension like a blade dipped in honey. How fascinating that your majesty has taken such an interest in our omega. She sat across from them, having somehow maneuvered herself into a position of prominence. Arth has always been special to our pack.

 The lie was so blatant that Arth nearly choked on her water. “Special?” Zapiros repeated, his tone giving nothing away. “Tell me more about how special she is.” Cassia’s smile flickered with uncertainty. “Well, she’s unique. the only omega in our pack who can’t shift properly. It’s really quite remarkable medically speaking. I see.

And you’ve been kind to her, I assume, as packmates should be. Of course. Cassia’s voice had gone slightly higher. We’re all family here. Family. Zafyros lifted his wine glass, examining the dark liquid as if it held secrets. Like this morning when you and your brother watched Lysander break a plate and blame her for it.

 The blood drained from Cassia’s face around the table. Conversations died. Or last week, Zapiro continued conversationally. When you poured wolf’s bane extract in her wash water, hoping to see if it would burn her skin. How could you possibly? Cassia caught herself, but it was too late. know that? Zapiros’s eyes flashed dangerously.

My scouts arrived days before me, watching, reporting. Did you think visiting royalty wouldn’t investigate a pack before arriving? His gaze swept the table. I know about every slight, every cruelty, every pathetic display of dominance you’ve inflicted on someone you deemed weaker than yourselves.

 Alpha Hendrix stood, his face purple with rage and embarrassment. Your Majesty, surely these are internal pack matters. Sit down. The command was delivered so quietly that for a moment Arthur thought the Alpha might not have heard it. Then Hrich dropped into his chair, as if his strings had been cut. The force of an Alpha King’s command impossible to resist. Areth.

 Zephro turned to her and his voice gentled in a way that made her stomach flip. Would you like to tell me your side of this morning’s incident? I She looked around the table at faces twisted with fury, fear, and disbelief. These were people she’d have to live with after he left. It was nothing. A misunderstanding. A misunderstanding.

 He leaned back in his chair, and somehow that casual posture was more threatening than if he’d shifted into his wolf form. “I wonder if it would still be a misunderstanding if I ordered Lzander to kneel before you and beg forgiveness.” “Please don’t,” Arth whispered, horrified at the thought. “The retribution would be swift and terrible once left.” “As you wish.

” He stood abruptly, extending his hand to her. “Walk with me.” It wasn’t a request. Arth placed her trembling hand in his, gasping at the spark that jumped between their skin. His fingers closed around hers. Warm and calloused from years of combat, and her wolf practically sang with joy.

 They left the dining hall in absolute silence, but Orth could feel the explosive aftermath building behind them. The moment they were out of earshot, voices erupted in furious discussion. You’ve made everything worse, she said. Once they were in the gardens, the moon casting everything in silver light. They already hated me. Now they’ll they’ll do nothing.

 His grip on her hand tightened because you’re leaving with me. Arth stopped so abruptly that he had to catch her to keep her from falling. What? You’re coming to the Nightshade Pack. He turned to face her fully, and in the moonlight, his eyes seemed to glow. tonight. I can’t just leave. This is my pack, my family.

 The family that calls you defective. The pack that tortures you daily. Um, his free hand came up to cup her cheek, and the gentle touch contrasted sharply with the fury in his voice. They don’t deserve you. The question slipped out before she could stop it. Something shifted in his expression, vulnerability flashing across his features before disappearing behind his usual mask.

 No, but I’m selfish enough to take you anyway. Why? She pulled away from his touch, needing distance to think clearly. Why do you care what happens to a broken Omega? You’re not broken. The words came out as a growl, his wolf clearly close to the surface. And you know why? I don’t. Don’t lie to me.

 He moved closer, backing her against an ancient oak tree. You feel it, too. This pull. Your wolf recognizes mine. Even through that damned suppression potion. That’s impossible. I’m nobody. I’m You’re my mate. The words hung in the air between them, heavy with implication. Arths wolf howled in triumph. fighting against its chemical cage with renewed vigor. “No,” she whispered.

 “The universe wouldn’t pair you with someone who can’t even shift. The universe paired us perfectly.” His hands braced against the tree on either side of her head, caging her in. “Your wolf isn’t weak, Arth.” “It’s powerful. So powerful that someone saw fit to suppress it before you were even born. That’s insane.

 Is it? Tell me, what do you know about your mother’s bloodline? She was from the Eastern Territories. She met my father during a pack gathering. She was the last of the moon blessed line. Zepharos’s words fell like stones into still water, sending ripples through everything Ourith thought she knew. A bloodline so powerful that the ancient packs feared them.

 Wolves who could command the moon itself, who could shift into forms beyond normal wolves. That’s a fairy tale. Like the fairy tale of the alpha king who can’t find his mate. He leaned closer, his breath warm against her ear. He like the fairy tale of an omega whose wolf is supposedly malformed, but whose very presence makes my wolf want to submit? Your wolf doesn’t submit to anyone.

 It does to yours. The admission seemed to cost him something, his jaw clenching. From the moment I walked into that hall, my wolf has been clawing at me, demanding, “I claim you, protect you, worship you.” The words sent heat flooding through her body, and the suppression potion finally catastrophically failed.

 The transformation hit her like a lightning strike. One moment, Orth stood pressed against the tree. The next, she was on her knees, screaming as her bones began to break and reshape. But this time, something was different. Instead of the usual agony of incomplete shifting, her body seemed to know exactly what it wanted to become.

 Don’t fight it. Zepharos’s voice came from very far away, or maybe very close. She couldn’t tell through the sound of her own heartbeat roaring in her ears. Let your wolf free. I can’t. The words dissolved into a howl as her spine elongated, fur erupting across her skin like silver fire. No, not fur.

 Something else. Something that caught the moonlight and reflected it back tenfold. Her vision sharpened. Colors she’d never seen before. Flooding her perception. The world expanded. sense, sounds, sensations that her human form could never process. She was aware of every insect in the garden, every blade of grass, every star in the sky, and most of all, she was aware of him.

 Zaphiros had shifted, too. And his wolf was magnificent, massive, and black as midnight, with eyes that burned silver fire. But instead of the dominance she expected, he was submitting. The Alpha King, terror of the Northern Territories, was on his belly before her, neck exposed in ultimate surrender. Beautiful, his voice echoed in her mind, through a connection that shouldn’t exist yet, not without marking.

 My beautiful impossible mate. Orth looked down at herself and gasped. Or tried to. What came out was a sound like windchimes. Her wolf form wasn’t like any wolf she’d ever seen. She was larger than she should be. Her fur, not quite fur, but something crystalline that seemed to hold moonlight within each strand.

 When she moved, she left faint silver paw prints that glowed before fading. What am I? She projected the thought without meaning to. The mental communication coming as naturally as breathing. Moon blessed. Zepharos responded, rising slowly to his feet. The last of your kind. Your mother bound your wolf to save your life. If the other packs had known what you were, images flooded her mind.

 Not her own memories, but his. Secret meetings between pack alphas. discussions about the danger of allowing the moon blessed line to continue. Her mother, young and terrified, performing a binding ritual that would suppress her daughter’s true nature until until my mate found me. Orthinished, understanding flooding through her.

 The binding could only be broken by a true mate’s touch. “Your mother was clever.” Zepharos patted closer, his massive form still somehow smaller than hers. She knew the other packs would never suspect a broken Omega. She hid you in plain sight. A rage unlike anything Arth had ever felt surged through her. Years of torment, of believing herself worthless, of accepting abuse.

 Because she thought she deserved it all based on a lie designed to keep her alive. She threw her head back and howled. The sound that emerged wasn’t like any wolf howl in existence. It was music and moonlight, sorrow and rage, power and pain all woven together. Windows shattered in the pack house.

 Wolves throughout the territory dropped to their bellies, submitting to a power they didn’t understand. The moon itself seemed to pulse in response, growing brighter until the garden was bathed in light bright as midday. Oreth. Zafyros’s mental voice was gentle but urgent. You need to calm down. Your power, it’s been suppressed for so long. If you release it all at once, they hurt me.

 The thought was a snarl for years. They hurt me. Made me believe I was nothing. I know. He pressed against her side, his warmth grounding her. And they’ll answer for it. But not tonight. Tonight we leave. Tonight you come home with me. Home. The word resonated through her in a way that Shadow never had.

 As her rage cooled and her wolf form began to shift back, Orth realized that perhaps she’d already found her home. It just wasn’t a place. It was a person. The transformation back to human form left Orth vulnerable and exposed in the moonlit garden. Zephro shifted immediately, shrugging off his jacket to wrap around her before anyone could see.

 The gesture was protective, possessive, and achingly gentle all at once. “We need to leave,” he said urgently, his eyes scanning the pack house where lights were beginning to flicker on. “Your howl! Every wolf in the territory felt it. Theyll come to investigate. “Let them come,” Arth said. surprising herself with the steel in her voice.

 Let them see what they’ve been tormenting all these years. Not yet. His hand found hers, their fingers interlacing naturally. You’re powerful but untrained. And there are protocols to follow. If I take you without formal acknowledgement from your alpha, then follow your protocols. A familiar voice interrupted. Morwennial emerged from the shadows.

 carrying a traveling bag that looked already packed. But do it quickly. The other packs will have felt that power surge. They’ll know a moon bless has awakened. Grandmother Arith pulled the jacket tighter around herself. You’re coming with us. Someone needs to teach you our family’s true history. The elderly woman replied, her ancient eyes twinkling with something like pride.

Besides, I made a promise to your mother. My work here is done. You found your mate and awakened your wolf. Now the real journey begins. I traveled ahead with Betallay’s convoy earlier to prepare, but came back when I felt your awakening. Before Orith could respond, wolves began pouring into the garden.

Alpha Hendrich led them, his wolf form bristling with aggression until he saw Zephos standing protectively over Arth. The alpha shifted back, his face cycling through shock, fear, and calculation. “What sorcery is this?” Hendrickk demanded, though his voice lacked its usual authority.

 “Not sorcery,” Zepharos replied coldly. “Heritage, the Omega you’ve been abusing is moon blessed, the last of the ancient line, and my mate.” The pronouncement sent shock waves through the gathered wolves. Orth saw her father among them, his face pale as parchment.

 Lzander had shifted back too, but he kept his distance, something like fear flickering in his eyes. Impossible, Henrik breathed. The moon blessed line ended generations ago. Hidden, not ended. Morwinial corrected, moving to stand beside her granddaughter. Mayora bound her daughter’s wolf to protect her from packs like yours.

 Packs that would have killed a moon blessed pup rather than risk the prophecies coming true. What prophecies? Someone called out. Morwennial’s voice took on an otherworldly quality as she recited, “When the silver moon rises in the house of night, the old ways shall crumble and the new shall take flight.

 The blessed one shall judge with eyes that see true, and those found wanting shall pay what their due. Fairy tales, Hrix scoffed. But his voice shook. The fairy tale just shattered your windows with her howl. Zephos pointed out. I’m taking her to Nightshade Pack. Any who try to stop me will face the consequences. You can’t just take a pack member. Alriken started to protest.

 I renounce my ties to Shadowmir, Orthrupted, her voice carrying clearly across the garden. I reject the pack that rejected me. I choose Nightshade. I choose my mate. The formal words of pack renunciation hung in the air. Once spoken, they couldn’t be taken back. Several wolves gasped at the gravity of her declaration. “You need Alpha permission,” Henrik began.

 Actually, she doesn’t, Morwinil said mildly. Moon blessed wolves supersede normal pack law. They answer to no alpha save their mate. She smiled, showing teeth. Ancient law older than your precious hierarchies. Zephro stepped forward, his presence making several wolves step back instinctively. Orth Moonlast has chosen.

I claim her as my mate, my equal, my queen. Any who challenged this claim will answer to me in formal combat. No one moved. No one dared. “Gather your things,” he told Arth softly. “We leave within the hour.” As she turned to go, Arth caught sight of Cassia in the crowd.

 The girl who’d tormented her for years looked terrified now, her earlier arrogance completely gone. Their eyes met, and Arth saw the moment Cassia understood that the power dynamic had shifted irrevocably. “Wait,” Arth called out, stopping at the garden’s edge. “Cassia, Lysander, Thorne, step forward.” The three wolves who’d been her primary tormentors approached reluctantly, unable to refuse what sounded like a command. “You made my life miserable,” Orth said simply. Three wolves.

 You broke dishes and blamed me. You poured wolf Spain in my wash water. You called me defective, worthless, broken. She paused, letting her words sink in. But you also made me strong. Your cruelty taught me to endure. Your hatred taught me that I was different. And now I know different doesn’t mean less than it means more than you could ever imagine.

She turned to her father. You were willing to sacrifice me to save Aurora. You called me defective to the Alpha King himself. But in doing so, you revealed my true worth to the one person who could free me. So, thank you, Father, for showing me that blood doesn’t make family. Choice does.

 Without waiting for responses, she walked back into the pack house, Morwinial beside her, leaving stunned silence in her wake. Her room, the cramped space under the stairs, looked even smaller now. Arth gathered her few possessions quickly. Her mother’s jewelry box, the blue dress, a handful of books she’d hidden beneath loose floorboards. Everything she owned fit into a single small bag.

 “Travel light, live free,” Morwiniel observed from the doorway. “Your mother used to say that.” “Tell me about her,” Orth requested. folding the blue dress carefully. The truth this time, May Vora was the strongest moon blessed born in three generations, her grandmother began. Her wolf was pure silver, could run on moon beams, could see truth through any lie.

 The council of alphas discovered her existence when she was 16. They voted for her death, but she survived. She ran. Met your father during her escape. He was young, weak, controllable, perfect cover. She bound her wolf, married him, had you, but the binding required constant energy to maintain. It drained her slowly over years. She died for me, Orth whispered.

 She lived for you first, Morwennial corrected. Every day she chose your life over hers. And when she saw you wouldn’t survive to adulthood in this pack without protection, she performed the ultimate binding, transferring her remaining power to suppress your wolf completely, making you appear truly broken. Until my mate touched me, the one loophole in the binding.

 True mates are goddess blessed. Their bond supersedes even blood magic. Morwennial smiled sadly. Your mother saw Zehiro in a vision before she died. She knew he would come for you. A knock interrupted them. Zephro stood in the doorway. Having changed into traveling clothes. Ready? Orth looked around the cramped space that had been her prison for so long. More than ready.

 The journey to Nightshade Pack took three days through mountain passes Orth had only heard about in stories. Zepharos’s convoy consisted of a dozen warriors in wolf form flanking their vehicles. Sleek black machines that hummed with quiet power. Orth sat beside him in the lead vehicle while Morwennial rested in the one behind already deep in conversation with Lerole Zapiros’s beta about ancient moon blessed traditions. You’re different.

 Orth observed on the second day studying Zapiros’s profile as he navigated a particularly treacherous turn. The terrifying alpha king who threatened to raise territories is gone. He’s not gone, Zepharos replied, his hands steady on the wheel. He’s just not needed right now. You don’t require the Alpha King. You need Zapiros.

 And they’re different. One is a weapon. The other is a man. He glanced at her, silver eyes soft. You’re the only one who’s ever cared about the difference. That’s not true. It is. His jaw tightened. Even my own pack sees the title first, the person second. It’s necessary for maintaining order, but he trailed off. Lonely, Arthin finished. Yes.

 The simple admission hung between them, but not anymore. They drove in comfortable silence for a while, the connection between them humming contentedly. Arth could feel his emotions now not clearly. Without marking, the bond remained incomplete, but enough to sense his relief, his protectiveness, and something deeper. She wasn’t ready to name.

 “Tell me about the prophecy,” she said eventually. “The real one, not the version everyone whispers about.” Zephos’s hands tightened on the wheel. “The full prophecy is longer than what Morwennial recited. It speaks of a silver moon rising when darkness threatens to consume all packs.

 The moon blessed will return not just to judge but to unite or destroy depending on the choices made. What darkness? No one knows for certain. The prophecy is a thousand years old. From the last moon blessed oracle, he paused. But there have been signs. Rogues organizing in unprecedented numbers. Ancient things stirring in the far territories.

 Whispers of something calling itself the void alpha. Void alpha. A legend. Supposedly a wolf who rejected the goddess herself, gaining power by consuming other wolves essences. Most think it’s just a story to frighten pups. But you don’t. Three packs in the eastern territories have gone silent in the last year. not conquered or absorbed, just gone.

 Every wolf vanished without a trace. His expression darkened. My scouts found only one thing at each location. Shadows burned into the ground in the shape of howling wolves. A chill ran down Orth’s spine. And you think I’m supposed to fight this thing? I think you’re supposed to do what moon blessed have always done, bring balance. Whether through peace or war remains to be seen.

I don’t know how to bring balance. I barely know how to be a wolf. You’ll learn. He reached over, taking her hand. We’ll face whatever comes together. On the third day, they crested a ridge, and Orth saw the Nightshade pack territory for the first time. The sight stole her breath.

 Where Shadow Mirre had been modest wooden structures, nightshade was a city carved from the mountains themselves. Obsidian towers rose from living rock, connected by bridges that sparkled with embedded gems. Waterfalls cascaded between buildings, their mist creating permanent rainbows. The very air thrummed with ancient power. Welcome home, Zapiro said softly.

 Home, the word resonated in her bones. As they descended into the valley, wolves began appearing along the road, not threatening, but curious. They lowered their heads respectfully as the convoy passed. An Orth realized they were bowing to her. Not just Zapiros. They know, she asked. Word travels fast. A moon blessed mated to their alpha king. You’re already a legend.

 The main fortress gates were crafted from silver and obsidian, depicting the phases of the moon. They opened smoothly as the convoy approached, revealing a courtyard filled with wolves in both forms. Don’t be nervous, Zephos murmured, sensing her tension through their bond. Easy for you to say. You’re not the Omega about to face an entire pack of strangers. You’re not an Omega. You’re moon blessed.

 And they’re not strangers. They’re your pack now. Before she could respond, the vehicle stopped. Zephos emerged first, then turned to help her out. The moment her feet touched the ground, a hush fell over the courtyard. Then, as one, every wolf present, hundreds of them dropped to one knee.

 “Rise,” Zapiros commanded, his voice carrying easily across the space. Behold, Arthong Blessed, last of her line, and my chosen mate. A cheer erupted, so sudden and loud that Arth nearly jumped. These wolves weren’t looking at her with disgust or pity. They were looking at her with awe, respect, and genuine joy. My queen, Lerole approached, bowing formally.

 Your chambers have been prepared in the moon tower. Unless, she glanced at Zaphiros. You prefer to share the king’s chambers. Heat flooded Arth’s cheeks. The moon tower sounds perfect. For now, Zepharos added quietly, making her blush deepen as Lerole led her through the fortress. Orth marveled at the architecture. Moonstone was embedded in every wall, glowing softly with captured light.

 Tapestries depicted the history of wolves, including several that showed silver wolves she now recognized as moon blessed. Your pack has always honored the moon blessed, she observed. The nightshade pack was founded by a wolf who was saved by a moon blessed healer. Lerole explained, “We’ve never forgotten that debt.

 When the other packs voted to hunt them, Nightshade abstained. It caused a rift that exists to this day. Is that why Zafyros became Alpha King so young? Lerole’s expression grew careful. That’s his story to tell. But I will say this, he’s been searching for you for 5 years.

 Every territory he conquered, every pack he visited, he was looking for signs of moon blessed survival. They reached the moon tower, its spiral staircase lined with windows that caught the afternoon light. At the top, double doors opened into chambers that took Orth’s breath away. The space was circular with a glass ceiling that would show the night sky.

 Bookshelves lined the walls, filled with volumes she’d only dreamed of reading. A writing desk sat by a window overlooking the entire territory. The bed was massive, draped in silver and midnight blue. This is too much. Arth breathed. This is exactly enough. Moreiel’s voice came from behind them. The elderly woman entered looking pleased. The moon blessed were always scholars and seers.

 You’ll need these resources for your training. Training? Did you think awakening your wolf was the end? Her grandmother’s eyes glinted with amusement. child. It was barely the beginning. You can shift now. Yes. But can you walk on moon beams, see through shadows? Speak to the goddess herself. Those are myths. So was your existence until 3 days ago.

 Morwin moved to the bookshelves, pulling out a silverbound volume. Your education begins tomorrow. Tonight. Rest. Let your wolf settle into its new home. After they left, Orth stood at the window, watching the sun set over her new pack. Wolves moved through the streets below with purpose and dignity. No one cowered.

 No one was forced to hide. A knock at the door interrupted her thoughts. “Come in,” Zepharos entered, and her wolf immediately perked up, tail wagging mentally. “Settling in? It’s overwhelming,” she admitted. This morning I was nobody. Tonight I’m supposed to be a queen. You were never nobody. He joined her at the window.

 You were hidden treasure waiting to be found. Pretty words. Truth. He turned to face her fully. I know this is fast. I know you didn’t choose this. I chose you. She interrupted. In the garden when I could have stayed silent. I chose you. Something flared in his eyes. Heat and hunger and hope all mixed together. Arth. Another knock interrupted whatever he was going to say. Lerole entered, her expression urgent.

 Forgive the interruption, but we have a situation. The Council of Alphas has sent an emergency summons. They’re demanding Orth appear before them within the week. They have no authority. Zapiros began. They’re invoking the ancient accords, Liille continued grimly. Any wolf of questionable heritage must be verified by the council.

 If she doesn’t appear, they’ll declare her rogue. Let them try, Zapiro snarled. If they declare her rogue, any wolf can legally hunt her, Morwennial said, appearing in the doorway. It’s what they did to my sisters, to my Vora’s cousins. legal sanctioning of murder. “Then we go,” Orth said quietly. Both Zaphiros and Lerole turned to stare at her.

 “We go and we show them exactly what they’ve awakened. They want to verify my heritage. Let them look into the eyes of the last moon blessed and see their own judgment reflected back.” Zepharos’s lips curved into a proud smile. “My fierce mate! They won’t know what hit them.” The week of preparation passed in a blur of intensive training.

 Each dawn, Orth worked with Lerole on physical combat, learning to use her unusual wolf form’s advantages. Her crystalline fur could reflect light to blind opponents. And her claws could score marks in stone that normal wolves couldn’t scratch. “Your form is deceptive,” Lero explained during one session.

 It appears delicate, almost fragile, but you’re stronger than any wolf I’ve trained. Use their misconceptions against them. Afternoons were spent with Morwennial in the archives, studying moon blessed history and abilities. Arth learned that her kind could indeed walk on moon beams, literally running on light itself. They could see through deceptions, phase through solid objects when the moon was full, and in rare cases, channel the voices of their ancestors.

 The council fears you because you represent justice they can’t corrupt, Morwinial explained during one lesson. A normal wolf can be bribed, threatened, or killed. But moonless wolves see truth absolutely. No alpha wants their sins exposed. Evenings belonged to Zepharos. He would arrive after his duties, and they would walk the fortress walls, talking about everything and nothing.

Their connection grew stronger each day, their emotions bleeding into each other more clearly. “Does it bother you?” Orth asked one evening. “That your wolf submits to mine?” “No,” he answered without hesitation. “It feels like coming home after a long war. My wolf has been fighting for dominance since I was 13. With you, it finally rests.

You were 13 when you became alpha. His expression darkened. My father went mad. Started killing pack members he imagined were traitors. I challenged him to save what was left of our pack. You killed your own father? He wasn’t my father anymore by then. The madness had taken him completely. He stared out at the mountains.

 The council used it against me for years, the patricidal prince, they called me. Too dangerous to trust, too powerful to challenge. Is that why you conquered the other territories? I united them. He corrected. Six separate packs, all fighting over resources while their people starved. Now they share. Now they thrive. The council must hate that.

 They hate anything that threatens their power structure. He turned to her, which is why they’ll try to destroy you. You represent change they can’t control. The night before they were to leave for the council gathering, Arth couldn’t sleep. She stood on her balcony, staring at the full moon when she heard it a whisper on the wind that shouldn’t exist.

 Sister, she spun around, but the room was empty. The voice came again. Clearer this time. Sister of moon and shadow. We see you. Who are you? She whispered to the night. We are the forgotten, the hidden, the moon blessed who survived. We wake because you wake. We rise because you rise.

 There are others scattered, hidden, but calling to each other through the moonlight. The prophecy begins and we answer. The connection faded, leaving Orth shaking. She wasn’t the last. There were others. A soft knock interrupted her thoughts. “Come in.” Zephos entered, and she could feel his concern through their bond. You’re troubled.

 I heard voices, other moon blessed, speaking through the moonlight. His eyes widened. That’s impossible. The council swears, “You’re the last the council lies.” Morwinial stood in the doorway fully dressed despite the late hour. I’ve been waiting for this night. The full moon after a moon blessed awakening sends out a call. Any with the bloodline will hear it.

 How many? Zepharos asked. Unknown. But if even a handful survived, Morwinial smiled. The council’s worst nightmare is about to come true. The journey to the neutral territory where the council convened took 2 days. Zephros brought a small army, 50 of his best warriors, despite the supposed neutrality of the gathering.

 Insurance, he explained when Orth questioned it. The council grounds were ancient, a natural amphitheater carved into white stone. Seven thrones sat in a semicircle, each occupied by an alpha who controlled vast territories. Alpha Marcus from the eastern pacts still looked haunted from something. His hands trembled slightly when he saw Orth.

 The others watched her with mixtures of curiosity and hostility. Orth of Shadow, the eldest alpha began. Orth moon blessed of Nightshade. Zephos corrected sharply. Address my mate properly. She has not been verified. Then verify her. Arth interrupted, stepping forward. She let her wolf rise to the surface, not shifting, but allowing her eyes to blaze silver.

 Look at me and tell me I’m not moon blessed. Several alphas shifted uncomfortably. One, a female alpha named Sana leaned forward with interest. Show us your wolf,” Marcus demanded, having found his courage. “Prove this isn’t some trick.” Orthod, and it wasn’t kind. “As you wish.” She shifted smoothly, her crystalline form catching the afternoon light and throwing rainbow patterns across the white stone.

 Several guards stepped back. One whimpered. But it was what happened next that sent shock waves through the gathering. Three other wolves emerged from the crowd. Young wolves who’d been hidden among the various packed delegations. They shifted too, their forms just as impossible as orths. One was pure silver. Another seemed made of starlight.

 The third looked like captured aurora borealis. Sisters, they said in unison through mental projection, everyone could hear. We stand with the silver moon. Impossible, Marcus breathed. We were hidden, the silver wolf who appeared to be the eldest, explained. Raised by loyal families who remembered the old ways. When Arth awakened, our own bindings broke.

 “How many more?” Sana asked, and Arth noted she seemed more excited than afraid. “Enough,” Arth replied, shifting back. The others followed suit, revealing three young women who looked nothing alike except for the power radiating from them. “This changes nothing,” Marcus declared, though his voice shook. “The ancient Accords state.

” “The ancient Accords also state that moon blessed wolves hold equal rank to any alpha,” Morwiniel interrupted, having appeared from seemingly nowhere. Four moon blessed wolves could form their own council if they chose. That law was struck illegally without proper vote. 300 years ago, Morwinial produced a scroll that looked ancient. I’ve been keeping records, every illegal amendment, every violated treaty, every breach of ancient law.

 Would you like me to read them aloud? The council exchanged uneasy glances. What do you want? Sana asked, directing the question at Arth. Justice, Arth replied simply. The hierarchies that condemn wolves for their designation rather than their character. The laws that allow the strong to abuse the weak. The system that would have seen me dead for being born different.

 She looked at each alpha in turn. It all needs to change. You’re talking about revolution. Marcus accused. I’m talking about evolution. She gestured to the other moon blessed. We are proof that the old ways were wrong. How many powerful wolves have been suppressed, killed, or broken because they didn’t fit your narrow definitions.

The system has worked for a thousand years for you. Arth interrupted. It’s worked for you. But what about the omegas dying in servitude? The betas denied advancement because of their designation. The humans living in fear at our borders. Humans are not our concern. Everything is our concern. Her voice carried power now, making several alphas flinch.

 We are part of this world, not separate from it. The void alpha grows stronger while you squabble over territory. Ancient evils wake while you cling to outdated traditions. Change is coming whether you accept it or not. Is that a threat? Marcus stood his wolf close to the surface. It’s a prophecy. One of the young moon blessed said the one who looked like starlight. I’ve seen it.

 Darkness approaches that will consume everything if the packs don’t unite. The old ways will mean our extinction. Prophecies can be wrong. When have moon blessed prophecies ever been wrong? Morwinial asked mildly. Silence fell over the amphitheater. Finally, Sana stood. I propose a compromise. The moon blessed are acknowledged as legitimate.

In return, they work within the system to create change, not outside it. Define within the system, Zapiro said suspiciously. A new council, seven alphas, four moon blessed, and representation from each designation. She looked at Orth. Change but controlled. Evolution, not revolution. Orth considered this, then nodded slowly. Well try it your way.

 But if the council resists necessary changes, if wolves continue to suffer under outdated hierarchies, she let her power surface slightly. the air shimmering around her. Then we’ll forge our own path. The council’s compromise sparked three hours of heated debate. Some alphas raged against any change. Others saw opportunity.

 Through it all, Arth stood calm at the center, her fellow moon blessed flanking her like an honor guard. You ask us to share power with omegas? Marcus spat the word like poison. I ask you to share power with wolves, corrected. Or would you prefer I demonstrate why the ancient packs feared us? Is that a threat? It’s an offer of partnership instead of replacement.

 She let her power surface slightly, the air around her shimmering. We could simply leave, form our own territory. How many wolves would follow four moon blessed over seven squabbling alphas? The uncomfortable shifting that followed suggested many alphas had considered the same question. I call for a vote, Sana announced. All in favor of the new council structure.

 Four hands rose immediately, Sanna and three younger alphas who’d remained silent until now. Marcus and two others kept their hands firmly down. Deadlocked, Marcus said triumphantly. without a majority. I invoke the right of challenge, Orthod announced, and gasps echoed through the amphitheater. You can’t, Marcus protested. You’re not an alpha. I’m moon blessed.

 According to the laws you claim to follow. I hold equal rank. She stepped forward. I challenge you, Marcus, for your seat on the council. Unless you’re afraid to face an Omega. The insult landed perfectly. Marcus’ face purpled with rage. I accept. He snarled. Orth. No. Zephos moved to intervene, but she stopped him with a look.

 Trust me, she said through their bond. I need to do this. The amphitheater cleared quickly, forming a circle for the challenge. Marcus shifted immediately, his wolf, large and scarred from countless battles. Orth remained in human form, walking the circle’s edge calmly. Shift, Omega.

 Marcus growled through the mental link. Why? You’re not worth the effort. He lunged at her with a roar. At the last second, Orthstepped, her movement impossibly fast. Marcus crashed into the stone where she’d been standing, leaving cracks in the ancient surface. Too slow, she observed. He attacked again, and this time she didn’t dodge.

 Instead, her form became translucent, and he passed right through her, stumbling in confusion. How? Someone gasped. Moon blessed can phase when the moon is strong, Morwennial explained to the watching crowd, among other things. Marcus spun around, snapping at where Orth materialized, but she was already moving. She danced around him, never attacking, just avoiding with grace.

That made him look clumsy and foolish. “Fight me,” he roared. “I am fighting. I’m just not fighting like you.” She paused, tilting her head. “Tell me, Marcus. Do you remember a young Omega named Sara from 10 years ago?” Marcus froze. What? She was from a small pack you absorbed. Pretty girl, gentle soul.

 You forced yourself on her, then had her killed when she threatened to tell. Lies. But his mental voice wavered. I can see it in your mind. Every crime, every cruelty. Her eyes blazed silver. Should I share them all? Should everyone see what I see? Marcus backed away. true fear entering his eyes for the first time or Arth continued conversationally. You could yield, resign from the council, go into exile. You can’t.

 I can do worse. She finally shifted, her crystalline form towering over his suddenly small looking wolf. I could show everyone here the truth of who you really are. Every dirty secret, every hidden shame. The moon blessed gift isn’t just power, Marcus. It’s revelation.

 She placed one paw on his head gently, but he screamed as if burned. Images flooded from her touch into the minds of everyone present. Marcus’ crimes laid bare for all to see. The Omega Sarah wasn’t his only victim. Years of abuse, corruption, and murder played out in stark detail. Yield, she commanded, and her voice carried the weight of every moon blessed who’d ever lived.

 I yield, Marcus shifted back, scrambling away from her. I yield, I resign. I go, she said simply, “And never return. He fled, leaving his alpha status and dignity behind.” Orth shifted back, turning to face the remaining council. “Anyone else want to challenge the new structure?” Silence. Then it’s decided. Sana looked impressed despite herself.

 The new council is formed. May the goddess help us all. As the gathering dispersed, the three young moon blessed approached Orth. The silver one said, I’m Laser. This is Nyx. She gestured to the starlight wolf. And Celestia, the one who looked like northern lights, not Aurora? Orth asked, remembering her younger sister who was safely mated far away. No, though I understand the confusion with names.

Celestia smiled. Riley. We’ve been watching you for weeks. Your awakening was like a beacon to us. There are more. Nyx added. We’ve confirmed eight others still hidden, possibly more. They’re waiting to see if it’s safe to reveal themselves. It’s safe now, Zapiro said, joining them.

 The nightshade pack offers sanctuary to all moon blessed. Generous, Lara observed. But can even the alpha king protect us all when the real threat comes? What real threat? Orth asked. Nyx’s eyes went distant, taking on the glazed look of prophecy. The void alpha wakes. It has felt the moon blessed return and hungers for our light.

 It comes with an army of hollowed wolves. Souls consumed and bodies enslaved. When Zepharos demanded soon, weeks, maybe days, Nyx shuddered as the vision released her. I saw darkness eating light. Packs falling like dominoes and at the center something that used to be a wolf but became something else.

 Then we prepare, Orith said firmly. We unite the packs, train together, stand together. The packs have never truly united, Sana said, having overheard. Too much bad blood, too many old grudges. Then it’s time for new blood. Arth looked at each face around her. The moon blessed will serve as bridges between packs.

 We belong to none and all simultaneously. You’re proposing we abandon pack structure entirely? An alpha asked. I’m proposing we evolve or die. She met each gaze steadily. The choice is yours. Over the following days, words spread like wildfire. The moon blessed had returned. The council had reformed. Change was coming.

 Some packs resisted, clinging to old ways. Others embraced the change, especially those with large omega populations who saw hope for the first time. And through it all, reports came in of shadows moving in the far territories, of scouts who never returned, of a darkness spreading like infection.

 It’s moving faster than expected, Zephro said one evening, reviewing reports in his study. Arth sat beside him, having learned to read the coded messages. It’s drawn to us, she realized the moon blessed. We’re like beacons to it. Then we use that, draw it to ground of our choosing, the ancient battleground, Morwen suggested from the doorway where the first moon blessed made their stand. The lay lines are strongest there. That’s in the heart of the territories. Zephos pointed out.

 If we fail, then we fail defending our people, not hiding from threat. Arth stood. Decision made. Send word to all packs. Those who stand with us. Meet at the ancient battleground in 3 days. Those who don’t. She paused. May the goddess protect them because we won’t be able to.

 The ancient battleground was a massive circular valley, its ground still scarred from battles fought centuries ago. As the appointed day arrived, Orth stood at its center, watching packs arrive. More came than she dared hope. Not just the reformed council, but smaller packs, rogue wolves seeking purpose. Even some humans who’d learned to fight alongside wolves.

 They come for you, Zephro said, standing beside her. The Omega who became moon blessed. You give them hope. I give them a chance, she corrected. What they do with it is their choice. By sunset, thousands had gathered. 12 moon blessed stood together the four from the council, plus eight others who’d emerged from hiding.

 Their combined presence made the air itself sing with power. It comes,” Nyx announced. Her prophet’s eyes seeing beyond the physical. “The void Alpha brings an army of 10,000 hollowed ones.” “We have 3,000,” someone said fearfully. “We have 12 moon blessed,” Arth countered. “And the moon is full tonight.

” As if summoned by her words, darkness crept over the horizon. Not the natural darkness of night, but something that devoured light, that made the very air feel thick and wrong. At its head walked something that might once have been a wolf, but was now a writhing mass of shadow and hunger. The void alpha.

 You shine so bright, its voice slithered into every mind present. So much light to consume, so much power to claim. You claim nothing, Arth responded, stepping forward. You are corruption given form, and tonight you end. The battle erupted with terrifying violence. Hollowed wolves, empty shells animated by shadow crashed into the defensive lines.

 Normal attacks barely slowed them. For everyone destroyed, two seemed to take its place. The moon blessed. Orth shouted, “Form the constellation.” The 12 moon blessed shifted as one, their various forms creating a circle. They began to howl, not separately, but in harmony, their voices weaving together into something greater. The moon responded, its light focusing through them like a lens.

Silver fire erupted from their circle, washing over the battlefield. Where it touched hollowed wolves, they dissolved into ash. Where it touched allied wolves, it filled them with strength and courage. The void alpha roared its fury, charging directly at Oth.

 Zephos intercepted it, his massive black wolf form grappling with the creature. You cannot protect her forever. The void alpha hissed. I will consume her light and become unstoppable. You’ll have to go through me. Zephro snarled back. But the creature was too strong. Its unnatural form giving it advantages no normal wolf could match. It threw Zephos aside. Lunging for Arth. She didn’t dodge.

 Instead, she met it headon. Her crystalline form blazing with moonlight. When they collided, the impact sent shock waves across the battlefield. Your light. The void Alpha cruned, trying to drain her power. So pure, so bright and poisonous to you,” Arth replied. She wasn’t fighting it. She was letting it try to consume her light.

 But moon blessed light wasn’t normal power. It was truth, justice, and judgment given form. And the void alpha was built entirely on lies, corruption, and stolen power. It screamed as her light burned through it from the inside out. The shadows that formed its body began to unravel, releasing the souls of wolves it had consumed over centuries. Impossible, it gasped.

 I am moon blessed, Arth said simply. We are the light that banishes darkness. We are the truth that destroys lies. And you, you are nothing. With a final howl from all 12 moon blessed, silver fire erupted across the battlefield. The void alpha dissolved into nothing. Its army of hollowed wolves collapsing into dust.

The darkness that had threatened to consume everything was burned away by moonlight. As the light faded, Orth collapsed, her body exhausted from channeling so much power. Zephos caught her, cradling her crystalline form gently. You did it, he said through their bond. You saved us all. We did it, she corrected weakly.

 All of us together. One year later, the council chamber had been rebuilt from the ground up. Its circular design ensuring no seat held prominence over another. Representatives from every designation sat as equals alpha, beta, delta, gamma, and omega. With the moon blessed, serving as mediators when disputes arose.

 Orth stood at the chamber center, her silver crown catching the light. It had been crafted from metal, salvaged from the ancient battleground, a reminder of what they’d survived together. beside her. Zaphiros watched with the same protective intensity he’d shown since their first meeting, though now tempered with absolute confidence in her abilities.

 The territorial disputes between East Mount and Riverdale, Sannah announced, reading from the agenda. Both packs claim rights to the Silver Creek hunting grounds. Let them share it, suggested Marcus’ replacement. a young alpha named Vera who’d emerged from the Omega ranks after the old hierarchies fell. Alternate seasons or hunt together? Resources are meant to be shared, not hoarded.

 A year ago, such a suggestion would have caused uproar. Now, both disputing packs nodded thoughtfully. “The integration programs are showing success,” Lysara reported. She’d taken charge of education reform, ensuring all wolves, regardless of designation, received equal training. This year’s graduates include seven omegas who’ve mastered advanced combat, and three alphas who’ve chosen to become healers.

 The old alpha council would roll in their graves, someone joked, and laughter rippled through the chamber. Let them, Arth said mildly. Their time is passed. Through the tall windows, she could see the memorial garden, a grove of silver trees, one for each wolf lost in the battle against the void alpha. That fight had been brutal, claiming wolves from every pack.

 But in the end, united they’d stood victorious. “Any other business?” Orth asked, drawing herself back to the present. A personal matter, Zafro stood, and the chamber quieted. If the council permits, curiosity rippled through the room. The Alpha King rarely spoke during sessions unless absolutely necessary. Proceed, Sana said, eyes twinkling with suspicion.

 Zephos turned to Orth to her shock, dropped to one knee. The entire chamber gasped. Orth Moon Blessed, he began formally. You are my mate, my equal, my heart. But you’ve never officially been declared queen because you said you wanted to earn the title, not inherit it through our bond. He pulled out a small box. You’ve more than earned it.

 You united the packs, defeated an ancient evil, and reformed our entire society. Will you accept the title now? Will you be my queen officially as you’ve always been in my heart? Inside the box wasn’t a ring they’d exchanged those months ago in a private ceremony. Instead, it was a key. What’s this? She asked, taking it carefully.

 The key to the ancient library, the one the first Moon Bless built that’s been sealed for 300 years. The council voted unanimously. It belongs to you. Tears pricricked her eyes. The ancient library contained the complete history of the moon blessed. All their knowledge, all their secrets. It was a treasure beyond measure.

 “Yes,” she whispered, then louder. “Yes!” The chamber erupted in celebration. Wolves howled in joy, a sound that carried across the territory and was picked up by others, spreading like wildfire until thousands of voices rose in harmony. Later, as the sun set, Orth stood in her tower, now their tower, as Zapios had moved in months ago, three wolf pups played at their feet, orphans from the great battle who they had adopted.

 None were moon blessed, but all were loved equally. Mama, the smallest, an omega named Hope, tugged at her dress. Tell us the story again about the broken Omega who became queen. That’s not how it goes, her brother argued. He was a beta, serious and studious. She was never broken. She was just hidden. You’re both right, Orth said, settling into her chair as the pups climbed into her lap.

 Sometimes what looks broken is actually being reformed into something stronger, like metal in a forge, the third pup added. She was an alpha, but had never once used her designation to dominate her siblings. “Exactly,” Arth began the story, the same one she’d told dozens of times, but never tired of repeating. Once upon a time, there was an Omega who everyone thought was worthless.

As she spoke, more Moon Bless arrived for the evening. Gathering a new tradition where they shared discoveries from the ancient library, Lasara had found texts about healing techniques, Nyx had discovered star charts that predicted future awakenings. Celestia had located songs that could calm feral wolves.

 17 more responded to the call this week, Morwinial reported, “Having become the unofficial moon blessed ambassador. Hidden bloodlines awakening now that it’s safe. Soon there will be too many for other packs to ever threaten again.” Zephros observed. Numbers were never the point. Arth reminded him. understanding is each moon blessed who awakens is another bridge between what was and what could be outside the full moon rose and Arith felt the familiar tingle of its call.

Later tonight she would run with her pack all of them regardless of designation they would hunt together sing together be together as equals. “You did it!” Zapiros murmured, his arms wrapping around her from behind. You changed everything. We did it. She corrected. All of us together.

 In the distance, a young Omega’s howl rose confident, proud, unashamed. Others joined, creating a symphony of voices that would have been impossible a year ago. The prophecy had been fulfilled, but not in the way anyone expected. The old ways had crumbled, not through conquest or domination, but through understanding, justice, and the radical idea that every wolf had worth.

 What now? Someone asked during the gathering. Orth smiled, looking around the room at faces that had become family. Now we keep building, keep growing, keep proving that strength comes in many forms. And if another threat rises, young Vera asked, “Then we face it as we’ve learned to together.” As the night deepened, Ath stood on her balcony, watching her transformed world.

 Somewhere out there, a young wolf was discovering they were moon blessed. Somewhere an omega was standing up to an alpha for the first time. Somewhere the old ways were dying and new ones were being born. The omega who was mocked has become the salvation. She thought remembering Morwennial’s words from that first night. The rejected one has become the cornerstone.

The last has become first. But most importantly, the lone wolf had found her pack. Not just nightshade, not just the moon blessed, but every wolf who’d chosen change over tradition. Hope over fear, unity over division. The silver moon had risen indeed, and it would never set again. In the end, the greatest power wasn’t strength or magic or even prophecy.

 It was the simple truth that every wolf, alpha to omega, had worth. The moon blessed had returned not to rule, but to remind, not to dominate, but to liberate. And in doing so, they’d saved not just themselves, but the very soul of wolf kind. The rejected Omega had become queen, but more than that, she’d become hope itself. and hope once awakened could never be suppressed again.

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